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imzadi-caskett-huddy · 9 months ago

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Let's Make Love

So I’ve got a Castle playlist on my phone, and it has songs I’ve accumulated over the years that just make me think of Castle and Beckett in some way. This fic is kind of based around one of those songs–”Let’s Make Love” was released in 1999 by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw, who are an excellent couple in their own right (and oh my God, if you ever get the chance to see them on tour together, the chemistry between them onstage is ELECTRIC).

When I heard this song on my playlist recently, I was immediately flooded with the images of the infamous scene from “Always” (Including that deleted scene), and I just couldn’t get it out of my head. So I just had to write it out. I’ll include some of the words in parts of the fic, but I highly recommend looking it up on Youtube or something and listening to get the real power and emotion of the song. You won’t regret it…I promise!

I don’t own Castle…and I don’t own the song “Let’s Make Love” either…

This starts with the end scene in “Always” and will continue through the night. As such, this is very much an M rated fic. There’s lots of sex; I’m trying to keep it as romantic as possible, but still… I’m not sugarcoating it for you. Lots of sex. If you’re not comfortable reading a sex fic, you might want to skip this one.

xxxxx

Just a reminder warning…this fic contained within this chapter is 1000% rated M. Sexy times ahead. You have been warned.

Castle had just ended his call with Alexis when his phone rang again. Seeing Beckett’s face on the caller ID, he stared at it for a moment before rejecting the call. He used the remote to turn on the touchscreen monitor in his office and opened the file…Beckett’s file. He hesitated only a moment before moving the file to the trash with a heavy sigh. The knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. There was a loud clap of thunder as he opened it, revealing Beckett, who had obviously been caught outside in the storm; she was soaking wet. “Beckett, what do you want?” he frowned.

Baby, I’ve been drifting away

And dreaming all day

Of holding you, touching you

The only thing I wanna do

Is be with you

As close to you

As I can be

She didn’t hesitate with her answer, despite his unwelcoming tone or the look on his face. “You.” She pushed into his loft, grabbed his face, and kissed him thoroughly. She wasn’t sure if he was too shocked or too mad, but when he didn’t respond, she pulled away and rested her forehead against his. “I’m so sorry, Castle…” she murmured, her voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…” she breathed.

When she leaned in for another kiss, Castle had recovered enough to pull her away from him, staring at her face. It was tear-stained; she’d been crying for awhile…long before she got to him. “What happened?” he asked. He had to know. He needed to know why she was suddenly here after everything they’d said to each other...after he'd walked away.

“He got away, and I didn’t care. I almost died, and all I could think about was you. I just want you,” she answered him honestly. She went for another kiss, but he held back before her lips could touch his. She pulled back, completely unsure now. She had known he might reject her advances, but she hadn’t allowed herself to fully consider that possibility on her way over. Only now, it seemed as though he was rejecting them, rejecting her…she’d waited too long to tell him, and now she’d lost him.

Castle studied her for a long moment, his feelings at war inside him. He loved her…God, did he love her. But she’d hurt him, rejected him in a way earlier. And he knew her…knew her better than anyone; she might be here now saying all she wanted was him, but what if something else popped on her mother’s case? What if she had another opportunity to take a run at the guy who shot her? Would she still say all she wanted was him?

As lightning flashed outside, he made his decision. He wanted her, he loved her more than all of that…more than the hurt she’d inflicted, more than the uncertainty. He just wanted her. A loud crack of thunder sounded as he pushed Beckett back against the open door, slamming it closed with her back, as he kissed her soundly. The dams each of them had carefully constructed finally burst with that kiss; three and a half years of emotions flooded their systems, rushing to the surface.

Their mouths opened for each other, and though Beckett had begun as the aggressor, Castle quickly took charge. His mouth claimed hers with his tongue, his kiss firm and demanding…and she let him. She’d come to him that night wanting him, but he��d wanted her longer, waited a year for her…tonight she was going to give him what he wanted, show him what he waited for was worth it; tonight she was giving him herself…no more walls.

He couldn’t get enough of her…the taste of her kiss, the feel of her body pressed against his, the soft moans and pants for air as he kissed her. His mouth moved across her cheek to her neck, nipping and sucking, tasting her skin as her fingers ran through his hair and over his back, pulling him closer. And then his mouth was back on hers again, their tongues meeting in a fiery tango, stoking the fire that raged between them as they finally gave into what they’d both wanted for so long. He trailed his kisses along the other side of her neck and down her throat to her chest, pausing to unbutton her shirt and look at the scar from where she’d been shot a year ago.

As if reading his mind, she took his hand and placed it over the scar, allowing him to feel her heart beating underneath as she kissed him again. This kiss was slow, deep, passionate, allowing him to feel everything she felt for him, allowing him to feel her. She finally broke the kiss with a smile as she nuzzled his nose. Taking his hand in hers, she led him towards his bedroom.

Let’s make love

All night long

Until all our strength is gone

Hold on tight

Just let go

I wanna feel you in my soul

Until the sun comes up

Let’s make love

She led him into the bedroom, stopping beside his bed and finally dropping his hand silently. They didn’t talk; words weren’t necessary right now. Their eyes met, speaking enough for the both of them, as she gently caressed his face with her fingertips. She held his gaze as she slowly slid her shirt and bra strap over her right shoulder until his eyes moved to the bare skin. He couldn’t resist touching her, bringing his hand up to push her hair out of the way and slide his hand over her shoulder and down her back.

Her eyes closed for a moment as his fingers caressed her skin. When she opened them, she was overcome by the look in his eyes as he just stared at her bare skin. She wasn’t sure if she made the move backward to the bed, or if he gently walked her toward it, but a moment later, he slowly lowered her to the mattress. She raised up to kiss him as he pressed a knee to the mattress, moving over her. Her hands slowly moved up his biceps, gently pulling him down with her as she eased herself back to the mattress, her lips never leaving his.

He lowered himself to her, supporting his weight on his forearms as he deepened their kiss. He forced himself to go slow. He’d waited too long for this, she was too important to him for it to be over in 5 minutes because he couldn’t control himself like some teenage boy. He already knew this first time was going to be over faster than either of them wanted, but he wanted to make love to her, wanted to worship her, and he couldn’t do that if he didn’t practice some restraint.

Her fingers began working the buttons of his shirt, pulling it from where it was tucked into his pants and then pushing it over his shoulders. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he broke the kiss only to raise up enough to shrug out of the shirt and toss it to the side somewhere.

“Kate…” he started, only to be silenced by her fingertips on his lips.

“Don’t talk right now…just feel,” she whispered, meeting his eyes with a small smile, her lips covering his again. “Let me feel you…” she murmured against his lips between kisses, hooking one leg at his waist and pulling his hips down against hers.

Her words were hot, but combined with her actions they were even hotter. He groaned into her mouth, fisting the comforter on his bed to keep from coming undone right then. Once he had a little more control, he slid a hand between them, unbuttoning her shirt and peeling the wet fabric from her skin before dropping it to the floor. He wasted no time unbuttoning her jeans next, struggling more than he would admit with the wet denim as he peeled them down her legs and dropped them to the floor as well, after removing her boots and socks.

She pulled him back into a kiss as he moved back over her, her fingers sliding slowly over his chest and down to his pants. She easily unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his pants, pulling back from the kiss slightly with a playful look in her eyes as she slid the zipper down slowly, her hand purposefully brushing along the length of him as she tugged her lower lip between her teeth.

“Kate…” he groaned, having to drop his head to her shoulder for a moment to recompose himself. He wasn’t going to last if she kept doing things like that. He pressed a kiss to her collarbone before pushing himself up so he could get rid of his pants, shoes, and socks.

While he was getting rid of his pants, she shifted on the mattress so she could lie on his pillows. She watched him as he climbed back on the bed, her eyes dark with desire as she watched his muscles flex when he moved over her. She knew he was trying to take it slow, and she wanted to give him what he wanted…but she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to take him going as slow as he might want to this first time.

He gave her a smile, trailing soft kisses across her collarbone to her shoulder. His mouth nudged her bra strap as his fingers slid to her back and unhooked it. He slowly pulled it away, his eyes darkening as he took her in. He couldn’t help but lick his lips as his mouth moved to her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking.

A soft gasp escaped, and she tugged her lower lip between her teeth as her back arched, pushing her chest toward his mouth. “Castle…” she breathed, her fingers raking through his hair.

His hand slid down her side slowly as his mouth continued to work her breasts. His fingers brushed across the waistband of her panties, and he slipped his hand inside. A moan escaped her throat and she bucked her hips to his touch as his fingertips ghosted a touch between her legs and just over where she wanted him most.

“Castle…please…” she panted softly.

He pulled back slightly so he could look at her with a grin, watching her face as he gave her what she wanted, his finger slowly sliding between her legs from her core to her entrance and back. Her hips chased his touch, her eyes closing as she moaned his name lowly. He’d wanted to tease her, but the way she moaned his name had him giving her exactly what she wanted. His fingers stroked her slowly, slipping into her and using just the right amount of pressure as he built her up both from his strokes inside her and with his thumb over her core. It didn’t take long before she was flying over the edge, fingers tightening in his hair, his name falling from her lips with a few curses.

He pressed kisses along her throat, smirking against her skin, his fingers working her through her orgasm until she pushed his hand away. He shifted then, getting rid of his boxers while he waited for her, watching her breathing finally even out. When she was back with him, he gently hooked his fingers in her panties and slid them down her legs.

Their eyes met, and then he drew in a ragged breath as his eyes traveled over her body, taking her in completely for the first time. “You’re beautiful…” he murmured, completely in awe of her.

“Staring is still creepy…” she tugged her lip between her teeth a little shyly.

“Right…sorry…” he shook his head. He shifted on the mattress to reach for his nightstand. When she took his hand to stop him, he arched an eyebrow. “I’m just getting protection…”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to. I haven’t been with anyone since…” she trailed off softly, knowing he knew what she meant, but not wanting to say her previous boyfriend’s name in bed with him. “And I’m on birth control...for several months. I…wanted to be ready for you…for this...” she explained with an almost nervous smile.

“Me too…I mean, I haven’t been with anyone either since…you know…” he assured her. “I was waiting for you…ever since you asked me to…before then, really…” he added, wanting to make sure she understood that despite his attempted fling with the flight attendant, he hadn’t actually slept with her.

His words surprised her a little. She honestly thought he had been with the flight attendant; he certainly had spent enough time with her. She also hadn’t expected him to admit to waiting for her before she’d even asked him to; he hadn’t been with anyone since Gina…because of her, because he wanted her. She pulled him to her in a deep kiss as the realization hit.

“Kate…you’re sure about this?” he asked softly when they had both pulled away from the kiss.

She nodded. “Yes. I trust you…no more walls…nothing between us…”

He kissed her slowly, lacing the fingers of their joined hands as he shifted over her. He stretched their joined hands above her head, his free hand gently stroking her cheek as he pulled back enough from the kiss to meet her eyes. His thigh nudged hers apart as he settled between her legs, finally sliding into her slowly.

She gasped softly, squeezing his hand as he stretched her. It had been a little over a year, and he was not small.

“Okay?” he asked her softly, remaining still so she could adjust to him.

She nodded, caressing his cheek with her free hand. “Perfect…” she smiled, kissing him slowly. A moment later she hooked her leg over his thigh, pulling him deeper into her with a soft moan against his mouth.

He took that as his cue that she was ready and began a slow, tender pace. It took most of his concentration to keep his control, but he managed for a few moments at first, his lips meeting hers in long, breathless kisses as they moved easily together…like a well-choreographed dance they had been doing for years and not something they were doing for the first time.

It wasn’t long, though, before his movements started getting sloppier, and he dropped his kisses to her neck. His hand was still joined with hers, and his free hand gripped her hip. Their moans mixed, gradually increasing in volume as his thrusts started coming faster, harder, her body arching against his to meet him, thrust for thrust. Her free hand raked her nails down his back hard enough to leave marks, but not enough to actually break skin. Her ankles locked behind his ass and tugged him deeper into her, holding him there for a moment as she squeezed her muscles around him before letting him move again.

“Kate…” he grunted his warning breathlessly in her ear, his fingers gripping her hip hard as he fought to not lose it right there, her little trick nearly ending him too soon.

“Rick…” she practically purred his name in his ear, tugging him deeper again, her arm wrapping around him to pull him as close as she could get him. “Let go with me…” she breathed, her teeth grazing against his skin near his ear.

The way she felt in his arms, the sound of her breathless moans, the way she said his name as she pulled him in undid him. His thrusts came hard and fast, his hips grinding against her with every thrust as his control snapped. She hit her high first, seconds before he exploded inside of her with a few last thrusts as he dropped breathlessly on top of her.

Do you know what you do to me

Everything inside of me

Is wanting you

And needing you

I’m so in love with you

Look in my eyes

Let’s get lost tonight

In each other

He recovered first, trailing soft kisses along her jaw as he just watched her. He was so in love with her. He’d known that for awhile, but now…he knew she was it. The way they were together…the way she felt in his arms…the way it felt making love…he couldn’t imagine himself with another woman, ever. There was no coming back from her, no getting over her if this didn’t work. She was it.

She finally opened her eyes and met his, so intense and full of emotion as he studied her. She gently caressed his cheek, moving in for a kiss that started soft but quickly turned passionate as he rolled them so she was on top of him now. Instinctively she rolled her hips, groaning lowly as she pushed up slightly against his chest, arching an impressed eyebrow when she realized he was still hard inside her. Apparently he wasn’t quite done yet.

His hands slowly slid along her thighs as she straddled him, rocking his hips up into her. Shifting so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hotly. “Kate…” he murmured against her neck, his hands sliding along her back.

“Hmm?” she breathed in his ear, gently tugging his ear lobe between her teeth, starting a slow, steady rhythm, rocking her hips against his.

He groaned, covering her lips with his again, his arms tightening around her. He pulled back to look in her eyes. His fingertips gently caressed her skin, and he couldn’t help but kiss her again. “I love you…” slipped out before he could stop it.

His words didn’t send her running. Instead she took his face in her hands and deepened the kiss. He still loved her. She hadn’t messed this up. She broke the kiss only when she had to breathe, resting her forehead against his. “Castle…” she breathed. “I’m so sorry…for everything…” she murmured, pressing another soft kiss to his lips before meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long…I’m sorry I made you think I don’t…” she tried to explain. “I do…” she kissed him again. Somehow she realized she wasn’t making sense…and he deserved to hear the words. “I love you…” she told him. “I love you, Castle…I’m so sorry I made you think I didn’t…”

He cut off her words with a passionate kiss, gripping her tightly as he laid her back so that he was on top of her again, thrusting deeply inside her. His hands slid over her skin, touching everywhere. He couldn’t get enough of her, pulling her close, going as deeply inside of her as he physically could. He had never needed a woman the way he needed her now.

Her arms wrapped around him, keeping him close against her. Her hands worked the muscles in his back and shoulders, lightly kneading and then sliding over his skin, nails digging in slightly, his name coming out in soft moans and whimpers as he moved, touching places inside of her she’d never been touched…places she didn’t know existed…and not just physically, but emotionally.

This time when they hit their high, he fell first, but he kept going until she fell a few thrusts later. It was intense, moreso than the first time, for both of them. They laid breathless and spent, wrapped so tightly entwined with each other that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

xxxxx

Sometime later, she woke up with a slight shiver, despite having a warm body draped over her back. Her nose was cold, and her feet were cold…and she couldn’t remember how they got underneath the covers that were half off her. Her hair was still slightly damp from the rain, and her ribs and arms ached from her battle with Maddox on the roof. Then she smiled slightly as she felt the ache of some other muscles…the delicious ache that was a result of lovemaking.

She shifted slightly so that she could see him; he was sleeping peacefully. But she was cold after being out in the rain for so long, their earlier activities only warming her up temporarily. She bit her lip and finally slid out of his bed, careful not to wake him up. She figured she could use his shower to warm up and then slide back into bed without ever having to disturb him. She found her shirt and jeans and stretched them out over a chair so they would dry enough for her to be able to wear them home later…tomorrow…before making her way to his bathroom.

When she flipped on the light, she was startled by the figure in the far side of the bathroom staring at her and jumped slightly. She quickly calmed down when she realized it wasn’t a real person, just a figure from Star Wars, which made her roll her eyes at the absurdity of Castle having a life size Boba Fett in his bathroom. She then spotted his shower. It was big…luxurious; it was definitely large enough for two people to use comfortably. She contemplated waking him to join her, but quickly decided against it, deciding to let him sleep. It wasn’t like she was sneaking out…she just wanted to get warm and maybe process…everything.

As she stood underneath the water and closed her eyes, she let the heat relax her muscles…her arms and her shoulders where she had to hang on to the roof for her life, literally…her neck from the tension of the case and the aftermath…her ribs from the beating she’d taken at the hands of Maddox. She was so caught up in her thoughts as she let the heat both relax and warm her, that she didn’t hear the shower door open or Castle step inside.

“You okay?” he asked.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, her eyes popping open quickly. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she grumbled. “And while we’re on the subject of that…your friend out there almost gave me a heart attack. Boba Fett? Really, Castle?”

He chuckled softly. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were getting up to come in here, or I would have warned you.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” she shook her head with a soft laugh. He wouldn’t have thought about it.

“You’re right. No, I wouldn’t have,” he smiled. “So, uh…why exactly are you up…showering…at 1AM?” he asked, trying his best not to sound nervous about what it might mean.

“Trying to get warm,” she answered him. “I was cold from the rain when I got here…and I got cold again.”

“I could have warmed you up…” he countered.

She gave him a small smile before wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his chest. “You did at first. But then we fell asleep…and you stole the covers…” she looked up at him pointedly. “I got cold again, and you were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you. I was just going to warm up and come back to bed,” she told him honestly.

His arms tightened around her slightly, and he gently kissed her forehead. “Well I would have happily woken up to join you in here.”

“I’m sure,” she smiled against his chest. She pulled back from him slightly, stepping back further under the water again.

His hands shifted to her hips and he followed her, about to kiss her when he saw slight bruising already appearing on her ribs. He stopped with a frown. “Kate?” he asked, his fingers gently tracing the discoloration. It was the first time he was really looking at her under actual lighting and not the soft, low lights of his bedroom combined with the moonlight and city lights coming through the window. His frown deepened as he saw a few more signs of the battle. “Tell me what happened.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, resting her head against the wall of the shower. She had anticipated he would eventually ask; she just hadn’t expected it would be because he saw bruising on her skin. “We fought…Maddox was stronger than me…a pro,” she explained softly, finally opening her eyes to meet his. “I didn’t really stand a chance in a physical altercation, even with my abilities as a fighter. I ended up hanging off the roof.”

He swallowed hard at her words. He knew her physical abilities; he'd watched her manhandle suspects twice her size easily. The fact that Maddox had no trouble at all in dealing with her sent ice through his veins. She said before that she’d almost died. He hadn’t realized hearing the details would affect him as much as it was; of course he also hadn’t imagined it was hanging from a roof, either.

“As I was hanging there, I didn’t think about my mom’s case…or my shooting…or even Maddox getting away. All I could think about was you…what I would miss. How I wouldn’t have a chance to make up with you after our fight. How the last words we spoke to each other were in anger. How I wouldn’t have a chance to finally be with you. How I wouldn’t have a chance to see what we could be together,” she continued quietly. “And then I was so sure I heard your voice. I was positive that even though you’d walked away, you came to save me…like you always do. Only it was Ryan. And I realized that I had lost you."

“Kate…” he started.

“I resigned,” she interrupted. “I’m done. I want you, I want us…I walked away from the case, from the NYPD, from everything…and came here. I just want you,” she gave a slight shrug, echoing the words she’d told him earlier.

He gently took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, pulling her against him tightly. “I’m sorry…” he murmured against her lips. “I’m so sorry, Kate…I should have been there…”

Her hands moved to his face and she kissed him thoroughly, cutting off his words. “We both made our share of mistakes…we both hurt each other…let’s just…move forward,” she suggested softly, resting her forehead against his. This was their chance. She thought she’d missed it, but here she was…with him. She wanted this, she wanted him, and she wasn’t wasting the second chance she’d gotten. Everything else she’d figure out later.

She really was the most extraordinary, remarkable woman he’d ever met. He kissed her slowly, passionately, his arms moving back around her as he pulled her body as close against him as he could get her. Her arms wrapped around him as she returned his kiss, every bit as passionately, her leg hooking at his hip. He took the cue and lifted her, allowing the wall of the shower to help support her weight as she slid down on him slowly with a low moan, her legs wrapping around his waist. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, his arm remaining around her waist and his other hand bracing himself against the shower wall as they made love again.

Let’s make love

All night long

Until all our strength is gone

Hold on tight

Just let go

I wanna feel you in my soul

Until the sun comes up

Let’s make love

xxxxx

It was still dark when Kate woke up, and she reached over to fumble for her phone to check the time. 4:34. She sighed and looked over at Castle, sleeping soundly on his back. It reminded her of when they woke up in that basement on a dirty mattress handcuffed together…only this time without any cuffs and with full knowledge of how they’d gotten where they were.

She smiled and turned her body into his side, resting her head on his shoulder as her fingers lightly traced patterns on his bare chest. After a few minutes, she bit her lip, letting her hand slowly work downward under the sheets until it reached his length. Her fingertips lightly teased him, running along his length before wrapping her slender fingers around him and stroking slowly.

“Mmm…Kate…” he murmured in a husky voice as his brain woke up slowly; the lower half of him that she was tending to at the moment was definitely already awake. Fully.

She grinned at his reaction, leaning over and kissing his jaw. “Glad you’re up,” she husked in his ear, letting her words take on a double meaning.

He chuckled, his hips moving slightly with her hand. “How could I not be up when you wake me up like that?” he asked.

She tugged her lower lip between her teeth as she watched him. “How long are we alone?” she asked, wondering when she needed to leave to avoid any awkward conversations with his family. At least she was assuming they were alone. She hadn’t really thought to ask him last night. She only remembered that Alexis was out at a graduation party; she honestly had no idea about his mother.

“Mmm…probably until after noon sometime…” he murmured. “Mother….Hamptons…” he told her, finding it very hard to talk with her stroking him that way.

She released him and moved to straddle him, her hands resting on either side of his head as she leaned down to kiss him fully. “I want you…” she murmured, her mouth trailing kisses along his jaw.

He smirked, his hands running along her sides to her breasts, taking advantage of her current position on top of him. “I gathered that much from how you woke me up,” he lifted his head to kiss her shoulder and then her chest.

Her mouth moved down his chest slowly, nipping playfully at his skin as she worked her way down. She took her time licking and kissing and sucking at his skin until she finally reached his hip. She bit and sucked on the skin just above his hipbone and then soothed it with her tongue and a gentle kiss once she was satisfied he’d have a visible mark later. She then turned her attention to his length, licking her lips before slowly running her tongue along him from tip to base.

When his hips bucked involuntarily, she shot him an amused look before holding them down as she took her time to drive him crazy with her mouth. One hand curled in her hair, but he never forced her head or guided her, and his other fisted in the bed sheets until she’d finally finished him off with a satisfied smirk.

As soon as he could think straight, he flipped her to her back, kissing her hotly. “My turn…” he murmured. Finally he was going to get to taste her…something he’d only dreamed about for so long, and despite having two previous rounds of sex, something he hadn’t had a chance to do yet. Now he was going to remedy that.

He took his time, kissing and touching every inch of her skin, completely worshipping her the way he’d wanted for so long. He took extra time at her breasts, and then at the tattoo she had near her hip where it could just be hidden by clothes and seen only by lovers, tracing it with his tongue before finally settling between her thighs.

By the time he’d thoroughly worked her up and over the edge…twice…with just his mouth and thumb, he was ready to go again. He trailed his kissed slowly back up her body, giving her time to recover. When he felt her thigh at his hip, he slid into her in one smooth thrust, gasping in surprise when she used that moment to flip him on his back so she was on top.

She cut off any response he might have with a hot kiss, her hips starting a steady rhythm against his. She used her hands on his chest for both balance and leverage as she rode him, building them both up. As they hit their finial climax of the night and her head fell back in complete ecstasy, the sun’s rays had started to change the New York skyline from dark to light orange and pink. She slid off him to his side, cuddling against him with her leg hooked over his hip and her head on his shoulder, both still breathless as they drifted to sleep despite the fact that the sun was coming up.

Let's make love

All night long

Until all our strength is gone

Hold on tight

Just let go

I wanna feel you in my soul

Until the sun comes up

(until the sun comes up)

Let's make love

xxxxx

So...3 rounds of sex and 7 orgasms. That was the longest sex fic I have ever written. I didn’t plan on it being this long, but it definitely took on a life of it’s own. I hope you all enjoy it. I look forward to your comments. And no worries, I know I owe you all a chapter for It Started With a Kiss. Promise that is coming up next…I just had to get this fic out of my head first so I could concentrate on it!

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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year ago

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Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 4: Flight

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer From a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating/warning: T - brief depiction of sexual assault Word count: 8.5k

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Author's Notes: Now we're getting into the swing of it! Fair bit of AOFAG snippets in this one because there were exchanges I really liked. Heads up if you have read my other fic Fever. Dream. that a portion of this chapter is recycled. I was actually pulling from this fic to write that one before I knew this one would be shared. 💙

[Revisiting Benedict and Sophie two years later during the party at Cavender House as written in Part Two/Chapter 6 of AOFAG.

It’s the spring of 1817 and the ton are in London. Depressed and listless, Benedict went to the party in the countryside for a change of scenery only to be disappointed by obnoxious drunks. He is leaving and feeling ill. Cavender House is located in Kent and Benedict plans to spend the night at Aubrey Hall. He does not own a bachelor cottage.

Sophie sold the Cowper’s jewels only to find they were made of glass (courtesy of one Jack Featherington). She scraped by with scullery work and selling her hair. Over two years she worked her way back into housemaid roles and has ended up in the employ of the Cavenders. The aging parents are kind but Phillip Cavender has been regularly harassing her.]

Two Years Later

With his parents away, Phillip Cavender had invited the most vile assortment of noblemen to fill his family home with drink and smoke, shouts and chaos. Sophie knew she should have left the grounds immediately, but Mrs. Cavender had treated her well, and she didn’t think it was polite to leave without giving notice to the lady of the house. With no locks on the doors of the servants’ quarters, she had angled a chair in front of hers and sat upon her bed, praying that Phillip would find distraction with one of the many hired ladies in attendance.

Her prayers were not answered. Phillip had come banging into her room, easily shoving the chair aside. He began pawing at her, pinning her to the mattress.

“Look what I have here,” he cackled. “Little Miss Sophie, my favorite housemaid.”

Sophie’s mouth went dry, and she wasn’t sure whether her heart started to beat double time or stopped altogether. “Let me go, Mr. Cavender,” she said in her sternest voice while she struggled. She knew that he liked her helpless and pleading, and she refused to cater to his wishes.

“I don’t think so,” he said, his lips stretching into a slippery smile. “I want you to join the party.” Restraining her with one arm, his free hand snaked up her torso, groping and beginning to reach down the neckline of her dress. She could smell the whiskey on him. Whiskey and the reek of dark intent. His voice was husky as he slurred, “You know you’re born to serve.”

When his rough fingers dragged across the skin of her chest, some primal corner of her mind snapped to attention and took control of her body, making everything both crystal clear and numbingly distant at the same time. She knew definitively that she was going to get out of this situation. No matter what it took. No matter what behavior she had to exhibit and to whom. Her knee moved before she commanded it to, driving swiftly up between Cavender’s legs.

She saw his eyes widen with pain for a split second before he doubled over, wheezing. When he tried to lunge for her again, her arm flew on its own, planting her fist into the side of his jaw. Cavender hit the floor with a thud, groaning as he began to roll across the boards. After the initial shock of her own actions, Sophie flew into a panic, stepping over the crumpled man to throw her few belongings into a bag. This was her chance. Without another look back, she hitched her skirts in one hand, clutched her bag in the other, and ran out into the night.

Her flight to the road was a blur. Her mind was blank to everything except one imperative: run. It felt as if she reached it instantaneously, but she knew it was a fair distance from the house. When her eyes began to refocus and the roar began to fade from her ears, she slowed to a walk, gasping. The night air was cool and soothing. The lights and noise of Cavender House were barely perceptible through the trees. The waxing moon illuminated the road in front of her and she set off for the village.

As she regained her composure, a sense of dread crept over her. She had attacked a gentleman. For her, a penniless maid, it was an offense worthy of a life in prison, if not transportation to the other side of the world. She certainly could not work in another household of the ton, lest word spread to find her. She hoped maybe he had drunk enough that he would not remember what had happened. But she could not rest on that hope. Perhaps he would be too embarrassed to tell anyone. Then she may be able to work quietly in a home a long distance away. But she would never be sure that Cavender would not visit that household someday and find her. No, as long as she stayed among the gentry, she would always be at risk. There was nothing for it, she would need to change her occupation. She could find work in a city somewhere doing…something.

As she began to contemplate the many dangerous and demeaning ways poor women might make money in a city, Sophie heard the fall of hooves approaching behind her. Her stomach sank. It could be Cavender, or someone he sent after her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a single rider on a white horse moving at no great speed. The Cavenders did not own any white horses but nevertheless, she began to dart off toward the trees. She knew the rider had already seen her and how futile a chase would be, but it was her only fleeting chance at freedom.

“Hello there?” The rider called out, his voice gentle, somehow familiar.

She paused. He certainly did not seem to be chasing her and it was not unusual that other people may be out on the road at this hour. Something within was telling her not to run. Where did she know that voice from? But she was not about to have a roadside chat with a stranger in the middle of the night. She needed to get to the village. She continued to walk along the side of the road, eyes forward, her steps purposeful but not frantic.

The rider caught up with her in quick order and slowed his horse to match her pace. “Good evening, Miss.”

He sounded polite enough but it didn’t stop Sophie from feeling a stab of annoyance. She was going to have to converse with this person, delaying her arrival to safety. Tired and unable to hide the grimace from her face, she turned to look up at him. For a moment she could only see his silhouette - a tall shadow with unruly hair and a high collar. Then her eyes adjusted and his features emerged in the moonlight. Dear god, it was Benedict Bridgerton.

She froze, every sound and every feeling melting away until all she could see was him. She didn’t even breathe as she stared. She had been fleeing for her life, running from torment, facing a hopeless future, and then suddenly Benedict Bridgerton appeared on a white horse like a knight in a fairy story. She wondered if she had fallen in the road and dashed her head on a rock because why else would she be seeing him unless she was hallucinating or in heaven?

“Are you alright?” he asked, stopping his horse beside her. Sophie’s breath hitched. Those were the last words he had said before she ran out of the masquerade so many years ago. She had heard them echoing over and over in her dreams. Of course she recognized his voice. Sophie nodded, looking him squarely in the eye, waiting for him to recognize her.

“It’s a bit unusual for a woman to be walking the road alone so late at night. Do you work at Cavender House?” He held the reins in his hand, looking her up and down.

She continued to wait silently, jutting her chin so that he might see her better. Surely he would be able to tell. Maybe it was too dark for him to see her properly.

“Miss?” His face was growing increasingly concerned.

She wasn’t sure if she knew how to form words but found herself replying, “Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Benedict frowned. This night was not turning out at all how he had anticipated. Cavender’s party was not exactly the bacchanalia he had been promised. Benedict had always found him to be a weaselly sort of fellow but he had grown so bored with the stuffy events of the London season that he would have accepted any invitation that got him out of the city. Rather than finding distraction in the amusements on offer, he had been repulsed by the callow attendees, their slovenly overindulgences and blatant disregard for the women hired to entertain. He had seen his own share of raucous parties to be sure, but there was still such a thing as taste in how one enjoyed themselves and what he had discovered was that Cavender and his friends were lacking in it.

It wasn’t only the company that had spurred him to leave early. Feeling an ache settling into his bones, he was forced to accept that he had not fully recovered from a recent chest cold. The stink and noise filling Cavender House were aggravating his poorly condition. He had managed to extricate himself, tired and wanting nothing more than to throw himself into a bath at his ancestral home. It was a long road to Aubrey Hall but he thought he had the strength to manage it.

Except now there was a strange young woman in the road and he was not one to ignore a soul in distress. The nearest village was at least two miles away and she was alone, carrying nothing but a small bag which, he guessed, was everything she owned if she had just left the employment of the house. From what he could see of her in the moonlight she was lovely, with a short crop of hair and large, luminous eyes. He had the oddest sensation that they may have met before, though he didn’t know how that was possible. Perhaps she had worked in a household he had visited.

Dismounting, he stood before her, trying his best to seem trustworthy. “Something drove you out of the house in a hurry.”

Sophie continued to stare, unwilling to believe that he didn’t recognize her even now that they were so close.

Benedict was running out of ideas to get her to speak so instinctively, he reverted to humor. “I’ve just come from there myself. Between you and I, it was turning my stomach to be around that bunch of louts. Plenty of drink, plenty of frivolity, but certainly no sense of taste.”

“No,” Sophie rasped, beginning to understand how he came to be there. It had indeed been a tasteless party, led by a tasteless host. She was reassured that Benedict wasn’t of the same ilk as Cavender, given his poor opinion of it. For the past two years the memory of him had been the only thing giving her the motivation to press on through the toil of each day, the dream of him and the fantasy life they may have shared together if she had been born legitimate. If it had turned out that he was no better than Cavender, she would have nothing left in her miserable little life. Not even the memory of the masquerade to treasure. But here he was, miraculously comforting her by the roadside, an avenue to safety.

She opened up to him, surprised at her own words. “I was treated roughly so decided to leave.” Not the whole truth, but enough to explain why she was walking through the night.

Benedict’s brow furrowed with concern and he nodded. “May I ask your name?”

Her name. The name he had begged her for at the masquerade. Now she would tell him for the first time. “Sophie Beckett,” she croaked.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Beckett. Are you headed to the village?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “To the Wayside Inn.”

“Would you permit me to take you there?” He chose his words carefully. He didn’t know what this woman had endured at Cavender’s but if it was enough to send her hiking out into the road at night, it must have been awful. Being approached by another man was likely the last thing she wanted, but if she trusted him, he’d rather it be him escorting her than god knows who else. If she declined, he would leave her be.

“Yes,” she agreed so readily it surprised him.

“Excellent,” he smiled. “I will drop you there and continue on.” Surely he could manage a detour on the way to Aubrey Hall. He would rest easier knowing she was safe. He held out his hand. She did not take it. She just continued to stare at him curiously, her head cocked to the side. “Are you certain you’re all right?” he asked.

And that’s when Sophie realized. When they first met her face had been covered by a mask. Her hair had been longer and powdered to a lighter shade, lovely tresses that she had since sold to a wigmaker. She had grown scrawny in the intervening years of hard servitude. It was two entire years ago and they had only spoken for an hour or so, outside in the dark of the Bridgerton House garden. She understood now. He didn’t recognize her. How could he? She was not the same woman he had met on that magical night.

She finally took his hand, her thoughts racing. Should she reveal herself? Would he believe her? As she followed him silently, he led her to the horse and patted the beast gently. “This is Danae. Not as comfortable as a carriage I’m afraid, but certainly faster than walking.” He grinned, his lopsided smile crinkling his eyes, and she felt her legs falter.

As her mind whirred, Sophie moved automatically, lifting herself onto Danae and perching sideways behind the saddle. Benedict looked up at her, the cheeky grin still playing on his lips. “Where are my manners? I’m Mr. Benedict Bridgerton by the way.”

She almost said “I know,” but caught herself. Her voice cracked as she feigned ignorance. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

He glanced down at her legs. “If it would be easier, you can sit astride. No need to stand on ceremony with me.”

Benedict was on his most gentlemanly behavior. It was only right that he escort this quiet, poor young woman away from the fiend Cavender’s house and to a place of safety. It was also ridiculous to force her to ride sidesaddle. Firstly, she was not even properly in a saddle, and second, it was a most awkward feat that he had never understood how women managed. He genuinely wanted her to be secure and comfortable while they rode. But he also couldn’t help finding something alluring in the way she lifted her leg and swung it around to sit astride.

Sophie caught a flicker of something devilish in his eyes as she repositioned herself. It forced a smirk across her own face even as the debate raged within her on whether to tell him that they had met before.

Benedict mounted into the saddle and took the reins. He was an inch away from her now, his broad back and dark hair filling her vision. She could see the fine velvet texture of his coat, the glint of the moonlight off the waves of his hair, and she could smell his cologne - sandalwood, fresh parchment, a walk in a green forest. She closed her eyes, breathing him in, her every sense engulfed by the man in front of her. Was this a dream? Was it a nightmare?

“Hold on,” he said over his shoulder. Sophie’s eyes flew open. Oh god, she hadn’t even thought about this when she agreed to ride with him. She would have to hold onto him, to wrap her arms around him and press their bodies together. She didn’t know if she would be able to bear it, but there certainly wasn’t any way to avoid it now. With great trepidation, she settled her bag securely in her lap then lightly rested a hand on either side of his torso.

She could hear him chuckle under his breath. “Tighter than that or else you’ll fall off, Miss Beckett.” Gently, he pulled her hands across his chest. Her palms rested against the buttons of his coat and she trembled as she realized she could feel him breathing.

“There we are,” she could hear the smile in his voice. Then he signaled to Danae, tapped her with the stirrups and they set off in a gentle, steady trot.

They encountered no one else on the road and the night was silent save for the trills of evening insects. This was nothing like the masquerade where they had so much to say to one another. But Sophie reminded herself that this was different. She was a maid and he was a gentleman of the ton. They shouldn’t have anything in common now.

But still, she kept waiting for him to recognize her and tell her he’d been looking for her for two years. But that wasn’t going to happen, she soon realized. He couldn’t recognize the lady in the housemaid, and in all truth, why should he?

People saw what they expected to see. And Benedict Bridgerton surely didn’t expect to see a fine lady of the ton in the guise of a humble housemaid.

Not a day had gone by that she hadn’t thought of him, hadn’t remembered his lips on her skin, or the heady magic of that costumed night. He had become the centerpiece of her fantasies, dreams in which she was a different person, with different parents. In her dreams, she’d met him at a ball, maybe her own ball, hosted by her devoted mother and father. He courted her sweetly, with fragrant flowers and stolen kisses. And then, on a mellow spring day, while the birds were singing and a gentle breeze rustled the air, he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him, professing his everlasting love and adoration.

It was a fine daydream, surpassed only by the one in which they lived happily ever after, man and wife, always with a new adventure in store; traveling across the Continent, filling their home with art and music, and visiting with the large Bridgerton family, a family that she could then call her own.

But even with all her fantasies, she never imagined she’d actually see him again, much less be rescued by him from the roadside after escaping a licentious attacker.

Benedict broke her reverie with a rasping cough before asking, “Is that bag all that you have?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “This is everything.”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “You have quite a refined accent for a housemaid.”

He was not the first to make that observation, so Sophie gave him the answer she kept in store. “My mother was a housekeeper to a very generous family. They allowed me to share some of their daughter’s lessons.”

“Why do you not work there?” With an expert twist of his wrists, he guided Danae to the left side of the fork in the road. “I assume you do not speak of the Cavenders.”

“No,” she replied, trying to devise a proper answer. No one had ever bothered to probe deeper than her offered explanation. No one had ever been interested enough to care. “My mother passed on,” she finally replied, “and I did not deal well with the new housekeeper.”

He seemed to accept that and they rode on for a few minutes. The night was almost silent, save for the wind, the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves and an occasional hacking cough from Benedict.

“Are you unwell, Mr. Bridgerton?” Sophie asked.

“I’m fine,” he gasped, jerking slightly on the reins.

And then there was more silence. Sophie tried to keep her eyes scrupulously straight on the road ahead, but they unfailingly wandered back to Benedict, to his shoulders, his hair, the angle of his jaw. She had the most absurd fear that if their eyes met, he would finally recognize her. But that was mere fancy. He’d already looked her squarely in the eye, more than once even, and he still thought her nothing but a housemaid.

Benedict was trying to fight down the coughs that continued to rise from his chest but it was getting harder and harder to do so. What a strange night. He could feel the creep of his oncoming illness and was growing more weary with each passing minute. He desperately wanted to rest but he also felt singularly invested in seeing Miss Beckett safely delivered to the inn. While rare enough to have a stranger riding on Danae, her arms wrapped around him, he felt the oddest tingling sensation across his skin where she was touching him. The heat of her against his back nearly made him shudder. There was something about her he couldn’t place. He stole a glance over his shoulder. There was something familiar about the curve of her cheek as well…

“Have we met?” he blurted out.

“No,” she choked, her answer instinctual as a spike of fear shot through her. “I don’t believe so.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” he muttered, “but still you do seem rather familiar.”

“All housemaids look the same,” she said with a wry smile.

“I used to think so,” he mumbled.

Sophie admonished herself as soon as the words left her lips. Didn’t she want him to recognize her? Wasn’t she hoping he would come to his senses, leap off the horse, gather her in his arms and declare his love? Didn’t she want him to carry her off to the life of her dreams?

But that was precisely the problem. They were just dreams. In her dreams she knew Benedict Bridgerton. In her dreams he loved her. Loved her enough to marry her despite the circumstances of her birth and the chasm of a class divide that existed between them. These were dreams and nothing more. In reality she barely knew this man. He had flirted with her at a masquerade when he believed she was a debutante. Just because it had been special for her did not mean it was special for him. He was a man, after all, and had most likely had passionate encounters with dozens of other women. She knew, in his position, that he attended scores of balls. Why should one masquerade stand out in his memory? Perhaps it was so insignificant that he never again thought of the lady in silver. If she revealed herself to him now there was a fair chance he would feel honor bound to return her to Cavender House or perhaps to Araminta. Either way she would end up in prison for theft or attack. Quite the opposite of a dream come true.

It was best if he did not recognize her. She didn’t know if she could survive his rejection or retribution. She would be grateful for this second meeting that they had, though she railed against fate that it felt like a bittersweet joke being played upon her. She would enjoy the sight and feel and smell of him, the sound of his voice, for these brief moments, rounding off the dreams she had carried with her for years, then allow him to leave her at the inn and once again exit her life. It was heartbreakingly painful but she knew it was for the best.

As if the sky acknowledged her sorrow, she suddenly felt the plop of raindrops spattering her shoulders.

“It’s raining,” she observed, immediately scolding herself for sounding obtuse.

Benedict looked up. The moon was now obscured by clouds. “It didn’t look like rain when I left,” he murmured. A fat raindrop landed on his thigh. “But I do believe you’re correct.”

She glanced at the sky. “The wind has picked up quite a bit. I hope it doesn’t storm.”

“Of course it will,” he said wryly. “Because we are out in the open. If we were in a carriage there wouldn’t be a could in the sky.”

“How close are we to the village?”

“About half an hour away, I should think.” He frowned. “Provided we are not slowed by the rain.”

“Well, I do not mind a bit of rain,” she said gamely. Then her voice grew quieter, “I have not yet thanked you.”

Benedict turned his head sharply but again could only see the side of her face. By all that was holy, there was something damned familiar about her voice. But she was just a simple housemaid. A very attractive housemaid, to be sure, but a housemaid nonetheless. No one with whom he would ever have crossed paths.

“Any gentleman would have done the same,” he said at last. He wasn't sure which part of him was tied into tighter knots, his body, which was heating up as his throat began to ache, or his mind which was perplexed at why this woman was having such an odd effect on him.

Then the heavens opened up in earnest with a crack of thunder. Within minutes both of them were soaked through, pummeled by rain torrenting in sheets.

“I’ll get there as quickly as I can,” he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the wind.

“Don’t worry about me!” she assured him.

He nudged Danae into a faster pace, but the road was growing muddy, and the wind was whipping the rain every which way, reducing the already mediocre visibility.

Bloody hell. This was just what he needed. He knew he was already falling ill, and a ride in the freezing rain would not help matters. Of course, if he were ill, his mother couldn’t try to cajole him into attending every single party in town, all in the hopes that he would find some suitable young lady and settle down into a quiet and happy marriage.

To his credit, he always kept his eyes open, was always on the lookout for a prospective bride. He certainly wasn’t opposed to marriage on principle. His brother Anthony and his sister Daphne had made splendidly happy matches. But Anthony’s and Daphne’s marriages were splendidly happy because they’d been smart enough to wed the right people, and Benedict was quite certain he had not yet met the right person.

No, he thought, his mind wandering back a few years, that wasn’t entirely true. He'd once met someone…

The lady in silver.

When he’d held her in his arms and twirled her around in her very first waltz, he’d felt something different inside, a fluttering, tingling sensation. It should have scared the hell out of him.

But it hadn’t. It had left him breathless, excited…and determined to have her.

But then she’d disappeared. It was as if the world were actually flat, and she’d fallen right off the edge. And his long search had been fruitless. Interviewing family, friends and staff, no one knew anything about a young lady attending the masquerade in a silver dress. No one except his brother Colin who had also met her for a brief moment but confessed he had never seen her before or since. He had leaned hard on his younger brother, driven to near madness by every dead end he had encountered. Had Colin slipped something into his tea? Recruited a friend to seduce him as some kind of elaborate prank? When he saw the flicker of concern in Colin’s eyes he eased off, ashamed of how uncharacteristically bitter he was becoming.

He remained distraught. His only other clue, the lady’s silver glove, had also yielded no helpful information. He had clung to it, carrying it in his pocket for three days before Eloise asked why he had not brought it to the modiste to decipher its origins. In truth, he had thought of doing so but had not yet mustered the courage to face Genevieve, an old flame that had been so swiftly and unceremoniously snuffed out without explanation. With little more than a dismissive curtsy she had moved on, no longer escorting him in debaucherous adventures through the demi-monde. It was her prerogative of course and he harbored no ill will toward her, but still felt a pang of shame speaking to her again for the first time with another woman’s glove in his hand, begging his former lover to help him find the woman he wanted to marry.

In a few days more, the enduring mystery pushed him past his embarrassment and he found himself standing on the doorstep of the dress shop. Gen was surprised to see him and looked even more baffled as he produced the solitary silver glove, asking if she knew where it had been made and perhaps who had purchased it. Her expression was unreadable as she took it from him, examined it for a moment and then proclaimed she didn’t recognize it. She suspected it may have been purchased from any number of shops or street vendors but it was not her creation. After awkwardly extending his thanks, Benedict was back on the street marching to every clothier, atelier and corner shop he could find. None of them would claim ownership of the glove and each failed attempt widened the void of despair growing in his heart.

Over two years he never learned anything more about his lady in silver. For all intents and purposes, it was as if she hadn’t even existed.

He’d watched for her at every ball, party, and musicale he attended. Hell he attended twice as many functions as usual, just in the hopes that he’d catch a glimpse of her.

But he’d always come home disappointed.

He’d thought he would stop looking for her. He was a practical man, and he’d assumed that eventually he would simply give up. And in some ways, he had. After a few months he found himself back in the habit of turning down more invitations than he accepted. A few months after that, he realized that he was once again able to meet women and not automatically compare them to her.

But he couldn’t stop himself from watching for her. He might not feel the same urgency, but whenever he attended a ball or took a seat at a musicale, he found his eyes sweeping across the crowd, his ears straining for the lilt of her laughter.

She was out there somewhere. He’d long since resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t likely to find her, and he hadn’t searched actively for over a year, but…

He smiled wistfully, despite the rain on his face. He just couldn’t stop from looking. It had become, in a very strange way, a part of who he was. His name was Benedict Bridgerton, he had seven brothers and sisters, was rather skilled with both a sword and sketching charcoal, and he always kept his eyes open for the one woman who had touched his soul.

He kept hoping…and wishing…and watching. And even though he told himself it was probably time to marry, he just couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to do so.

Because what if he put his ring on some woman’s finger, and the next day he saw her?

It would be enough to break his heart.

No, it would be more than that. It would be enough to shatter his soul.

Benedict breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the distant lights of the village of Rosemeade. He determined that he too would need to shelter at the inn for the night before continuing on to Aubrey Hall the next day.

He felt a pang of concern as he realized Miss Beckett’s pale hands were shivering against his chest. But, he thought with a touch of admiration, she hadn’t let out even a peep of complaint. Benedict tried to think of another woman of his acquaintance who would have stood up to the elements with such fortitude, and came up empty-handed.

“We’re almost there,” he assured her, but his voice faltered and he was gripped by a wave of coughs, the deep, hacking kind that rumble down in one’s chest. His lungs felt as if they were on fire, and his throat like someone had taken a razor blade to it.

Sophie winced as he convulsed within her arms. “You don’t sound well.” she shouted over the wind.

“I’ve a cold coming on,” he called back to her.

“I don’t want you getting sick on my account.” She tried to sound somewhat teasing, but in truth, she was terribly concerned.

He tried to grin, but his face ached too much. “I would’ve been caught in the rain whether I’d taken you along or not. I was planning to go as far as Aubrey Hall, which is miles away.”

“Still - “ Whatever she’d intended to say was lost under another stream of deep, chesty coughs. Danae whinied as the reins went slack, but she held her course toward the village lights.

Benedict shook his head, trying to clear the rain from his eyes and hold himself together for the final few minutes. His coughing fits were coming closer and closer together, and each time they were deeper, more rumbly, as if they were coming from the very pit of his chest. His throat was torn raw, but he kept his eyes ahead and spurred Danae on. Sophie’s hands clung to him tightly, with concern or fear he wasn’t sure, but he was grateful because she was, in fact, helping him to stay upright.

He was wheezing by the time they reached the village high road and fortunately, the Wayside Inn was situated at the near edge of town. He turned Danae into the stables alongside the building, not bothering for anyone to wave them in. They had to get out of the rain. Once under the rooftop, a stableboy appeared and ran over to grip the horse’s harness.

“Evening, Miss. Evening, my lord. Nasty weather!”

Benedict didn’t have the breath to converse unnecessarily. He went to haul himself down from the saddle but discovered that his every bone ached, his skin was on fire, and his clothes were so heavy with rain that he failed to rise. Before he knew it, Sophie had jumped down and was talking with the boy. His ears were ringing and he missed what was said, but the boy hitched Danae to the nearest post and dashed into the building.

“Come inside,” Sophie looked up at him and extended her hands. He stared at her, seeing her in the lantern light for the first time. She was soaked through in her thin cloak, dripping strands of her short hair matted against her face, her skin white with cold. Her large eyes were concerned but also insistent. She wasn’t delicate, that much was clear, and she was now trying to escort him to the inn, when he knew it should be the other way round. Truly, was he that weak that he had to be helped down from his horse by a woman? He appreciated her concern but he would not be so humiliated. Another round of coughs bent him double over Danae’s neck and he fought to regain his breath. He still ignored her hands and half-fell out of the saddle but was caught from stumbling to the ground by a man in an apron who had just emerged.

“Woah! All right, my lord?” the man asked, steadying Benedict on his feet.

Before he could respond, Sophie spoke, “Mr. Bridgerton is quite ill and will need a room for the night, as will I. Please help him inside.”

Benedict was dumbfounded. Who was this maid to be issuing orders and tending to him like a child? He was very well in control…

“Very good,” said the man in the apron, placing an arm around Benedict’s back and urging him forward. Though he hated to admit it, Benedict did indeed need the support, as his legs were all but failing him, muscles sore from the ride and bones aching within. Sophie followed closely behind as they all entered the inn while the stableboy returned to tend to Danae.

The Wayside Inn was warm and charming, an undeniable refuge from the wailing storm outside. The man with Benedict did not stop at the front desk but continued straight down a candlelit hall and guided Benedict, stumbling, into a room. Sophie turned to the man at the desk. He was white-haired and rotund, with mutton chops and kind eyes.

“Don’t worry, Miss,” he spoke gently. “We’ll see that the gentleman is taken care of. I’m the innkeeper, Mr. Cooper,” he smiled.

“Thank you Mr. Cooper. I’m Miss Sophie Beckett.” Sophie was suddenly aware of how awful she must look, like a drowned rat with her clothes dripping pools onto the floor, but he did not seem to take notice.

Mr. Cooper bent and scribbled something in his ledger. “And the gentleman you are with, the boy said he’s a Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Yes,” Sophie nodded. She had sent the stable boy inside to fetch help and had shared his surname, hoping it would carry a weight deserving of urgency. “Mr. Benedict Bridgerton,” she confirmed. He scribbled again and she continued. “He was delivering me here before continuing on to Aubrey Hall. But he has fallen ill. We will need two rooms for the night, and can you send word to the Hall in the morning to send a carriage to collect him?”

Mr. Cooper nodded, “Aubrey Hall, yes, yes. I’ll send a boy there as soon as the rain stops. Cost for the two rooms…” He stopped writing and looked up as she began to dig into her small, soaked bag. “Cost will be charged to the Bridgerton estate. I’ll send the bill with the boy tomorrow.”

Sophie froze. The innkeeper likely assumed she was a maid employed by the Bridgertons and as such, Benedict would pay for her. That or he was extending her a courtesy and being incredibly diplomatic about it. She had the coin to afford a night in a modest room of the inn but could not afford two. It did make sense for Benedict’s expenses to be charged to his estate but she should pay her own way. She decided not to confuse the matter. She would settle up with Benedict, paying him in reimbursement.

She thanked Mr. Cooper as the man in the apron returned to the entryway. “Follow me, Miss,” he beckoned her down the same hall and into a large guest room.

This was far more than the modest tier of room she could afford. It was clearly one of the inn’s finest accommodations reserved for upper class guests with a four poster bed, upholstered armchairs and a fire roaring away in the tiled fireplace. Sophie stood in the doorway gaping but before she could protest, the man explained. “Mr. Bridgerton requested that you have the room next to his.” There was, she detected, a tone of curiosity and perhaps a bit of snideness to his voice. No doubt he wanted to know why a bedraggled housemaid had shown up with a distinguished member of the ton and was being granted such luxury. She too wanted to know why Benedict had requested this.

“You will also need some dry clothes,” the man continued. “I have sent one of the maids to find a spare night dress.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said weakly, overwhelmed.

The man half-smiled, half-grimaced, then closed the door. The warmth of the fire beckoned her and she went to stand before it, holding her hands as close to the flames as she dared. She peeled off her damp cloak and smoothed her hair to look halfway presentable. She sat before the fire, warming herself and staring about the beautiful room. There certainly was no way she could afford to reimburse Benedict now. But, she reminded herself, if it was his request to have her stay in this room, she supposed he planned to pay for it as well.

Without warning, she found herself inexplicably in tears. She cried for what could have been her fate that evening, and she cried for what had been her fate ever since her father died. She cried for the memory of when Benedict held her in his arms at the masquerade, and she cried because she had held him in her arms this very night.

She cried because he was so damned nice, and even though he was clearly ill, even though she was, in his eyes, nothing but a housemaid, he still wanted to care for her and protect her.

She cried because she hadn’t let herself cry in longer than she could remember, and she cried because she felt so alone.

And she cried because she’d been dreaming of him for so very long, and he hadn’t recognized her. It was probably best that he did not, but her heart still ached from it. Eventually her tears subsided and she eyed the bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion descending on her. God above, a feather mattress and down coverlet looked like heaven on earth. She hadn’t slept in such comfort in years. But first, she should look in on Benedict.

Stepping out into the hall, she approached the door she had seen him led into. She knocked and called out quietly, “Mr. Bridgerton?”

A muffled sort of groan replied, which would have sounded like an invitation if it had been intelligible. She let herself inside and closed the door. Benedict was sprawled in an armchair before the fireplace, feet resting on the small table in front of him which held a decanter and glass half-full of some spirit. His outer coat had been removed but he was still in all of his sopping clothes, waistcoat unbuttoned and cravat hanging loose. He was pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and his disheveled hair continued to send rivulets of rain down the sides of his face. He clearly had collapsed there upon arrival and not moved since.

“How are you, sir?” She asked.

His eyes rolled slowly to look at her. “Not too well,” he rasped.

The fire he sat beside was not as tall as the one in her own room, Sophie noticed. She moved across and knelt, turning the logs with the poker. “You need to get warm,” she said. She could feel his eyes on her and suddenly wondered if it was dangerous to remain in the same room as him. She didn’t think he was likely to make an untoward advance; he was far too much of a gentleman to foist himself upon a woman he barely knew. No, the danger lay squarely within herself. Frankly, she was terrified that if she spent too much time in his company she might fall head over heels in love.

And what would that get her? Nothing but a broken heart. Sophie huddled in front of the fireplace for several minutes, stoking the flame until she was confident that it would not flicker out. “There,” she announced once she was satisfied.

She turned to look up at him. For the first time that night she could see his face clearly in the bright light of the fire. She held her breath, seeing how simultaneously similar but still how different he looked from the vision in her dreams. When they first met he had been wearing a mask, the same as her, and she had only seen his full face for one fleeting moment after the gong had sounded and before she had run away. She had had to construct his face in her mind from that single moment and often found it easier to remember him in the mask. But here he was, in the flesh. His mouth was the same as her memory, his eyes the same piercing blue-grey, bloodshot as they may be at the moment. But to see all his features together, they were greater than the sum of their parts. He looked older now, slightly more world-weary, and like he smiled less often. His hair too was shorter, lending to him an air of increased responsibility, making him look less wild and boyish.

“Thank you for the room,” she said softly. “I could have paid for my own.”

“No,” he croaked, reaching for the glass on the table. “I needed to make sure you were somewhere warm. I didn’t get you from the side of the road just so you could die of influenza.”

He took a gulp of the brown spirit, swallowed, but then began to cough anew, the spasms wracking his body and forcing him to bend over at the waist.

“Begging your pardon, Mr. Bridgerton,” she could not help commenting, “but of the two of us, I should think you’re more in danger of contracting influenza.”

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, “I-”

“There’s nothing to feel sorry about,” she said. “You need to get into bed.”

He swallowed convulsively and nodded, rising unsteadily to his feet, and managing to plod over to the bed. He bent over as he was once again engulfed by coughs. Sophie hurried to his side and stumbled under his weight when he decided to lean against her instead of the bedpost.

“Over here,” she guided him to sit on the edge of the mattress.

He grinned, “You coming?”

She pulled back, “Now I think you’re feverish.”

He lifted his hand to touch his forehead, but he smacked his nose instead. “Ow,” he frowned, sticking out his lower lip. His hand crept up to his forehead. “Hmmm, maybe I am a bit hot.”

It was horribly familiar of her, but his health was at stake, so Sophie reached out and touched her hand to his brow. It was burning. In fact, she could feel the heat radiating off the whole of his body from where she stood. “You need to get out of those wet clothes,” she said. “Immediately.”

Benedict looked down, blinking as if the sight of his sodden clothing was a surprise. “Yes,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Yes, I believe I do.” His fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, but they were clammy and numb and kept slipping and sliding. Finally, he just shrugged at her and said helplessly, “I can’t do it.”

“Oh, dear.” she sighed. “Here,” First things first, she pulled his jacket down from his shoulders and he moved his arms to help her slip it off. It felt as if it weighed ten pounds, it was so wet. Next was his waistcoat, a lovely deep blue color with a gold brocade. Then her fingers went to work on his cravat, golden yellow silk held together with a jewel encrusted pin in the shape of a honeybee. She knelt before him, gently tugging the knots loose. He gave her a lopsided smile, his voice slurring, “Not very…” he coughed again, this one lower and deeper than before. “...gentlemanly of me.”

“Oh I think I can forgive you this time, considering the way you helped me this evening.” She smirked at him as she pulled the cravat loose, the wrapped layers slipping around his neck until it was freed. All that was left was his ruffled shirt. She made quick work of the buttons, gritting her teeth and doing her best to keep her gaze averted as each undone button revealed another two inches of his skin. “Almost done,” she muttered. “Just a moment now.”

He didn’t say anything in reply, so she looked up at his face. His eyes were closed and his entire body was swaying slightly.

“Mr. Bridgerton?” she asked softly.

Benedict’s eyes flew open. “What?”

“You’re drifting off,” she warned him. “You can’t fall asleep in wet clothing.”

He blinked confusedly.

“Have you something dry you can change into?” she asked.

He shrugged the shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Sophie felt her stomach lurch, kneeling before him as he sat there shirtless, and she instinctively stood and stepped back.

“No,” he mumbled, his hands falling to the buttons on his waistband.

“What are you doing?”

He looked over at her as if she’d asked the most inane question in the world. “Taking my trousers off.”

“Couldn’t you at least wait until I’d turned my back?”

He stared at her blankly.

She stared back.

He stared some more. Finally, he said, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to turn your back?”

“Oh!” she yelped, spinning around as if someone had lit a fire under her feet.

Benedict shook his head wearily as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots and stockings. God save him from prudish misses. He stripped off his trousers - not an easy task considering they were still more than a little damp and he quite literally had to peel them from his skin. Once he was undressed, he quirked a brow in the direction of Sophie’s back. She was standing rigidly, her hands fisted tightly at her sides.

With surprise, he realized the sight of her made him smile. Overwhelmed by descending exhaustion and the aching of his entire body, he grabbed the edge of the coverlet, dragged it over himself, sagged back against the pillows and groaned.

“Are you all right?” Sophie called.

He made an effort to say, “Fine,” but it came out more like, “Fmmph.”

He heard her moving about, and when he summoned up the energy to lift one eyelid halfway open, he saw that she’d moved back to the side of the bed. She looked concerned.

For some reason, that seemed rather sweet. It had been a long time since any woman who wasn’t related to him had been concerned for his welfare.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, trying to give her a reassuring smile. But his voice sounded like it was coming through a long narrow tunnel. “Go to bed,” he grunted.

“Are you certain?”

He nodded. It was getting too difficult to speak.

“Very well. If you need anything, just call out.”

He nodded again. Or at least he tried to. Then he slept.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903

#let me be your anchor #an offer from a gentleman #benedict bridgerton x sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #sophie beckett fanfiction #benophie #benophie fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #head canon

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esta-elavaris · 2 months ago

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✅😊🔥for the fic ask game please 🩷🩷

✅ list one or two favorite lines you’ve written and explain why they’re your favorite: I don't think I have many favourite lines! I have favourite fics, but I don't think my writing tends to be the sort where you have a line or two that just hits. That being said, I'm a big fan of James' angry-yet-shockingly-loving rants at Theodora. This bit in particular, after she tells Beckett her big secret, because it was just so much fun to write because there are so many layers he's not aware of --

"I promise you now that I will never understand it if you die," he snapped, but then stopped and immediately fell silent when he realised he'd used the word that the both of them had so carefully avoided so far "That is far beyond the scope of my ability to be understanding, that much I swear to you, Theodora. We've not yet been married even half a year, you will not make me a widower in the coming months. I will not allow it, and I would never forgive it, do you hear me?"

It was nigh on impossible to stop the tears that rose to her eyes - not just because she was powerless to fix his upset, but because all of the things that were upsetting him so much were the very things she was trying to prevent. She didn't want to become a widow in the coming months, she would never allow it and she would never forgive it. They were very much on the same page, and he was fighting against something that would prevent an outcome that neither of them wanted. Yet another thing she couldn't explain.

"I'll probably be fine," she protested, blinking back her tears - because she refused to be the woman who cried as a get-out-of-jail-free card in any goddamn situation.

"Probably is not even close to good enough!" He said fiercely "When I married you, it was so that we would have a life together. Not mere months. In fact, if anything I insist that I go first if it is to come to that. While there is breath in my body, you will not come to that manner of harm. I will not permit it until I am entirely unable to prevent it - and even then, I swear to God, Theodor, to God, that I would watch from beyond the grave and still do what I damn well could, and so I expect you to show even some small modicum of that regard for your own welfare."

😊 say something nice about your writing

I have a knack for dialogue, I think 💜 I owe it to my years of Gilmore girls rewatches.

🔥 what’s something that’s currently going really well?

Ooooo, the Aemond fic, I think? I was nervous about doing a timeskip but folk have been lovely about it, and in hindsight it's absolutely what was needed - and also inkeeping with the structure of the show itself. I'm also very excited to see what people make of the next chapter of the Hook fic, particularly how it ends!

Thank you! 💜

#asks #ask game

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bravevulnerability · 8 months ago

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not a TTPD prompt (although im excited to see what other ppl come up with!), but if it inspires you, could you write a fic where early s8 beckett is transported to the AU world from 7x06?

So I may have taken your prompt, a recent viewing of 13 Going on 30, and another anon's prompt for the song 'Peter' by Taylor Swift, and created a multi-chapter by accident.. Therefore, I may not fill this exactly (not anytime soon, anyway), but I hope an upcoming story may suffice for now.

#ask #anon #anonymous #sorry about that #but I love anything to do with 7x06 #so I will hopefully revisit this later :)

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suckeddry · 3 months ago

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Picking up strays is a good fic! Are there plans to write more of it? You write Beckett really well

The green eyed monster Part 3

Beckett x GN!Thinblood!Reader

CW: slight jealousy

Few months went by and you and Beckett hopped from one place to another. Never staying for more than a few nights for him to collect what he needed and then up in the air again to another city. By the time you landed in Paris, you and the Gangrel anthropologist became relatively close. As close two kindred can be, that is. It was a hectic night, the reservation in the hotel you were supposed to sleep in didn't come through, thanks to Beckett´s zero skills with modern technology. So you two just strolled through the streets of Paris, trying to figure out what to do. Suddenly a black car cut you off in the street. The car was expensive just by looking at it. You and Beckett exchanged confused looks as the car door opened and a tall, handsome stranger in a neatly fitted suit stepped out. The stranger immediately had all eyes on him. The man pulled out an ebony holder and from it a cigarette, lighting it up. As you looked at Beckett, seemingly confused about what was going on, you noticed the most annoyed expression on the Gangrel you had ever seen. The stranger looked at Beckett and his lips curled into a friendly smile. “My dear anthropologist, if I only knew you were here, I would order a pick up for you.” He said with an alluring accent as he pulled Beckett close into a hug, which the Gangrel didn't reciprocate. Then the stranger's eyes fell on you. “And who is this lovely individual?” He said picking up your hand and giving your knuckles a peck while holding eye contact. “A friend.” Beckett almost growled. The stranger gave him an amused look and then his attention went back to you. “You do have a good eye for friends, Beckett.” He gave you a flirty smile and you could swear Beckett´s nails just grew inch longer and sharper. “Pardon my manners, dear. My name is François Villon and I am the Prince of Paris.” He did a polite bow to you. “Great. Now that the two of you have introduced each other.” Beckett said without actually letting you introduce yourself to the Prince. “We are on the lookout for a place to rest our head during the day.” The gangrel said while simultaneously pulling your more to him by your hand. “And here I am, your savior.” The prince said while giving Beckett a wing. “But only after you promise that you and your lovely friend will attend my ball.” Violin said while dragging a smoke from a cigarette and blowing the smoke into Beckett´s face with a smile. This was your chance to actually secure a hiding spot for the day since the sunrise was only a few hours away. You gave Beckett a look, pleading him not to be stubborn. The anthropologist looked at you and sighed. “We will have to buy something to wear.”

AN: Heyyy! Thank you so much! And I hope you guys will like this fic as well.

#vtm #x reader #vtmb #world of darkness #cuthbert beckett #beckett #feral nerd

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release-the-mccracken · 2 years ago

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Masterlist of fics

An updated list of all the fics I've written for bandom so far

Tip Me Over; I Like All Types Of Pressure

"Ryan doesn't see things the way other people do. He's different," Brendon had rambled drunkenly to Gabe one night. And despite all the alcohol in his system, Brendon had been right. When others looked at Gabe, they saw an overly confident flirt. A top who liked to take control and dominate his partners. But that's not how Ryan saw him.

Tonight Give Me Everything Tonight

Pete never considered himself to be someone with a size kink. All of his partners tended to be bigger than him, but that was just a coincidence-or so he thought.

Just Like Holy Mary

Bert had asked plenty of stupid questions before, sometimes there was just no filter between his mind and his mouth. Though, his stupid questions didn't usually end with Jepha in his bed.

A Waste Of Blood And Sweat

Everyone has rituals for after a show, maybe Anthony's is just a bit different from everybody else's.

Starry-Eyed Child

Bert and Quinn finally get to spend some time alone together.

I'm Melting In Your Eyes (Like My First Time)

Bert was used to having sex, it was an act of rebellion after being raised in a Mormon household. However, sex with a bandmate who was also a guy was pretty new for him.

You Could Cause You Can So You Do

Jon knew that people looked at him differently than they looked at the rest of his band. He'd always been a bit rougher, a bit more masculine, a bit less "pretty." And yet, he was the only one Gerard was looking at.

Ready For The Boom

Fall Out Boy decide to give each other a hand and they all have their first circle jerk.

It's Cuffing Season

The thing about Vinny was that he’d never really thought about his height until he met Justin Morrow. He’d always been aware he was shorter than most other guys, sure. When it came to his band, he was even shorter. But when Justin had stumbled into his life, he was very aware of their size difference. Normally, he’d be a bit embarrassed when another man towered over him, but it was nothing short of exciting when it was Justin.

I Was Young And A Menace

Pete knew better than to trust Gabe's surprises. Yet he found himself tied down to the bed with a gag and a blindfold on anyway.

And They Called It Puppy Love

As Gabe grew up and got older, he started to have better control over himself and his instincts. Now, whether he wanted to control them or not was a very different story.

Little Bit Of Poison In Me (I Can Taste Your Flesh In My Teeth)

Pete always believed that he could protect himself, but William Beckett was intent on putting that to the test.

Sending My Love From The Other Side

A collection of ficlets completed, each chapter is titled.

Young Lovers (And They Are Not Sleeping)

It was surprisingly easy to find the man who turned him, but Pete never could've imagined what he'd walk into when he finally found him.

If You Were Church

Pete platonically blows Patrick to help him relieve some stress.

Toy Diamond Ring Stuck On Her Finger

Gabe and William are best friends who just so happen to fuck sometimes.

I Missed Your Skin When You Were East

Things weren't normally so rough between them, but Ryan was quickly finding out that he didn't mind it. (Spencer x Ryan)

I Can See Your Halo, Pray It Don't Fade Away

"Quinn ended up giving me a ride up to my parents' house. It was a beautiful night. I remember the moon was out and there was something different about this person that I'd met and I knew that we were going to write beautifully together."

Touched For The Very First Time

Pete gives Ryan his first blowjob.

December Was The Warmest Month

“Are you still okay?” Brent’s words cut through the thick smoke that felt like it was clouding up Ryan’s mind. It helped bring him back to the moment, giving him something to focus on. He felt himself nodding, but his body felt weird. He felt too heavy, his movements feeling slower than normal and as though it took more effort to simply nod. Brent’s fingers still rubbed his side, mindlessly tracing small circles there.

Now He Got Me On A Leash 'Cause We Said No Strings

Adam riding Gerard and Gerard using his mic cord like a leash.

As Fresh As A Bright Blue Sky

Pete wasn’t exactly sure how he found himself in this situation. Straddling Patrick in the back of the van, Patrick’s back against the seat to keep himself sat up and his hands all over Pete. He’d always found Patrick attractive, sure. With those big eyes and soft hair, how could he not? He just never expected anything to actually come from those feelings, especially not something so receptive. Normally, he’d question and second-guess himself whenever anything too good started to happen for him, but it was hard to think with Patrick touching him.

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme Just A Bit Of Your Time

Everyone gets lonely after a bit of time on tour, Frank decides to remedy that by keeping Matt company.

Can't Help It If There's No One Else

“I’m gonna do my best,” Adam promised and it earned a gentle kiss from Mike. Adam could taste peach rings when he kissed him, smiling into the kiss a bit. Everything was working to remind him that this was still just Mike. The same Mike he played video games with and made fun of, the one he goofed off with all the time and the same one who he had trusted with all of his secrets. He didn’t need to worry.

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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

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i know you don't take requests right now but i have so many, i hope you read them, don't feel obligated to do them but yeah wtv u want id appreciate tho if you took them into a consideration 1. i want a love triangle between benedict, reader, sophie beckett, and yeah i want him to choose the reader, no hard feelings for soph tho maybe he could have an enemies to lovers with the reader (regency) 2. two co-workers hooking up (modern) i'll send the rest in another msg

Hi Nonny!

Sorry, I am indeed closed to any fic requests right now. Please feel free to resubmit when I open to requests; however, please do read my request guidelines page (linked in my blog header) HERE before submitting.

Please also note, I do not currently take requests involving Benophie - I use the show as canon, and until Sophie appears, I have no sense of her character yet. I do occasionally write Kanthony (usually as background to Ben/reader) and just Kate in fics, as I have a good grounding in who she is.

I have written quite a few co-worker modern fics for Benedict and Anthony. Please do check out my modern AU masterlists for those.

Thanks for your message, and sorry to disappoint. I have over 20 WIP requests I am working on right now, all from early 2023 (Yes, I am THAT slow), so my slate is currently full.

Thanks for your message 😁🧡🧡

#faye answers

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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 2 years ago

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i just stumbled across far from my eyes and holy shit??? one of the most beautiful fics i’ve read in a WHILE. perfectly captures the clumsy and beautiful connection that occurs between friends all too often and how naturally those people fit into each other’s lives. i love when writing feels quiet. like when i read that the voice in my head was whispering as to not disturb this precious moment between two characters. i have so many wonderful things to say about your writing but i don’t know how to put it all into words. that fic made me forget i was reading. i hope you continue the series because i feel like writing like yours is hard to come across in any fandom AND in published writing.

hi sweet anon! (so sorry for not responding sooner, i've been super busy these past few days but every time i thought of your ask i'd get giddy inside)

thank you, thank you, thank you! writing is hard, and it sends me over the moon when readers let me know that the effect i wanted to achieve was achieved, especially with 'far from my eyes' because that was exactly what i wanted, those awkward and fumbling little steps of young love even if javi and the reader both knew each other for so long

and that idea of whispering?? i never thought about it like that and i've always struggled in trying to find how exactly to articulate the action and my thoughts in my writing without intruding on the scene or the flow of the words but not rambling on and on for hours at a time, now that i have a name to it, i'll definitely know what to be looking for when i keep writing

as for 'Don't Tell Me', i do plan on continuing it for sure but i first really do need to finish my finals for this semester as well as Narcos s3 (lol typical me to write for a show i haven't finished), and i have ideas for two marc spector series as well as a dieter bravo series, so it's merely a matter of me buckling down to write these four

i do have another javi oneshot (that i may or may not be extending into a little oneshot universe) right: here

and since i want to spread the love, i do think that your ask could just as well apply to these fanfic writers on tumblr, since i really do look up to them and their writing styles are ones i think heavily influence mine:

@softlyspector - the absolute gold tier standard of writing, she's got some great Joel and Din stuff, and i quite literally throw myself of cliffs for her writing and characterization (especially of the moon knight system, i still need to get around to reading Tales Untold and giving it the full reblogs it deserves)

@pennyserenade - i consider miranda as the javi p expert, in terms of just helping me dive into characters and motivations, she's absolutely amazing (there's a reason she's studying this stuff and it shows) extremely talented, i would die to have 'scenes from a marriage' series with javi p in a published, bound book

@mourningbirds1 - 'don't look and it won't hurt' is just *mwah* i can't even articulate my thoughts about how much i enjoy this series (and hopefully you'll see how much i really do love her story sometime soon) (also the sweetest person around, ok?)

as for published authors i read and look up to (in the same levels as the writers and the works i mentioned above: Sally Rooney, Margaret Atwood, John Steinbeck, Seamus Heaney, Samuel Beckett

and if i could name 'a swift pure cry' by Siobhan Dowd as well

anways nonnie sorry if this was rambly and just grammatically horrendous and not the answer you were looking for, but i wanted to let you know ab how warm and fuzzy this made me feel and extend that feeling to the lovely souls here as well and give you a little sneak peak into my future plans

#maria talks #maria's mail #i absolutely love getting asks from you guys

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suitsusboth · 2 years ago

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Hey again, it’s the love light gleams anon! Omg I loved, loved, loved yesterday’s update. It was soo in-keeping with the Evie/Beckett dynamic when she first arrives at the cabin and he’s desperately wanting to kiss her, hold her, ask her to stay forever. Your chapter had that pining, yearning, emotionally repressed combination of Anthony and Beckett down so well! Would you ever consider writing a future chapter from Anthony’s POV or swapping perspectives? I’m super curious what he was thinking when poor Kate was self-doubting thinking she made him uncomfortable and that he doesn’t return her feelings!

Also, Kate’s ideas for the farms are so great! Reminds me of some of the farms I’ve visited in upstate NY and New Hampshire that have all these seasonal related activities such as apple-picking, bakeries selling apple-cider, apple cider donuts and apple pies etc, pumpkin patches and hay bale mazes. Then of course the Christmassy things for Winter. Cute baby goats for everyone! Lol now I’m getting carried away. But thanks again for the new chapter, you captured so well how there are so many things Anthony wants but doesn’t feel he can ask for. I’m so glad he has Eggnog to keep him company until Kate can return to Aubrey!!

PS ketchup on eggs is absolutely horrific! I’m with you and Ant there. So excited about Kate’s return to the farm and hoping for another Michael cameo!! 💕

hi hi hiii!

i'm glad you enjoyed it!

it's been interesting trying to meld them sort of, but i still want them to feel like kate and anthony. they are definitely different from their canon counterparts but hopefully you see them peek through. anthony is grumpy just like beckett and he's certainly not as wound up as canon anthony but he has that melancholy vibe still. family comes first to him still (he still thinks he knows best, but in a modern!verse he's been put in his place a bit more). love and loss still terrify him. and he's the nicest man in england aubrey (even though he grumbles most of the time). he's going to be different from beckett in a few ways -- he doesn't suffer from aversion of too much noise, but he doesn't like bit sudden noises (you find out why later).

kate i feel like i haven't quite hit the mark with. i don't think she's too similar to evie other than being burnt out at her job (which is fine with me tbh). she doesn't have the need to go anywhere -- that's why her trips such a big deal. she's be content to live her life in the same place, doing the same things for almost a decade. she's not a risk taker, she's not impulsive, she avoids change. i just don't know if i've captured her voice. idk.

as for a POV change i'm thinking about it, orrrr i'm just going to write a one shot from anthony's pov what he thought all through december. yet to decide. but i do know he's just met the most stunning girl who looked so alive on that empty street, who seems to be attracted to him too, who fits in with his friends/family, and is thoughtful and kind. snag is, she's only here for a weekend and his house is her only refuge. what creep makes a move on a girl when she's all alone in a place she doesn't know, a little tipsy and too late to go anywhere else if she's uncomfortable? could never be him. besides, it's not like she's going to visit again anytime soon. ;)

don't we all just want a little life on an idyllic farm? sign me up.

tbh i know anthony is more of a cat guy but i just saw that pic of the dog i used for the moodboard and had to incorporate it.

michael will be back a few times in this fic, so no worries there ;)

#where the love light gleams #asks

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rotblume · 1 year ago

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Okay.

I recently read a prompt going like "this time loop isn't killing me, it's killing you and trying to force me into accepting that because I'm never able to change the outcome."

So ..

how about we got Ronon (the street-smart brawn having lost too much already) and Rodney (the proud genius unable to fail) stuck.

(maybe with Teyla, but I just remembered the episode from season 1, where they were stuck with the jumper in the stargate, and the Athosian under Halling were already accepting and peparing for their death and Teyla's defintively evolved from, if not straight different to that, but yeah)

They're trying to keep Shep form dying, who at some point just says, "fuck it, guys, accept it and move on with your lives", cause he's too suicidal/self-sacrificing for his own good.

Then, at that point, Rodney doesn't just work with Radek and Carson(s clone) anymore (and falling for either one, because that forced proximity is what it would need for Rodney to understand his feelings, maybe the frist kiss (apart from the McCadman/Beckett one) happening when the finally figure out the solution).

No, but Ronon actually contacts Todd, and all of them together find a way to fix it, because none of them wants Shep to die.

Shit, now I've got inspiration to write yet another fic, next to the at least 4 other ones in this fandom alone.

But I might not have the patience to figure out the science behind it all and write the 10 loops before Ronon becomes so desperate as to contact the Wraith. And include in there somewhere the realisation for either Ronon or Todd (because I like McShep, but I love the smaller ships) that they are only so frantic because they have FEELINGS, aside from the friendship/frenemyship and acknowledged (and maybe lived out, cue flash-backs) attraction.

Fuck, I'll really have to start working on that, I can already tell my mind will never leave me alone with this.

This is my announcment of yet another future, by then long-awaited fic. Who would actually want to read that?

#stargate atlantis #sga #john sheppard #todd the wraith #ronon dex #rodney mckay #writing prompt #fanfic

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imzadi-caskett-huddy · 9 months ago

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It Started With a Kiss (4/?)

Thanks so much to everyone for continuing to follow this story, and for all the kind words! I know you guys don’t like what’s going on with the Josh storyline. But trust me...I promise you…I will never write a fic where Beckett ends up with Josh…so just show a little patience, and I promise he will go away.

This chapter deals with the episodes “Setup” and “Countdown.” I’m going ahead and combining them, because when I view the episodes, I basically view them as one story, even though it is a 2-parter. The original airdate for “Setup” was Feb 21, so it takes place only about a week after the last chapter in the timeline.

I still don’t own Castle…

xxxxx

It had been a week since Valentine’s Day…since she’d given in to her desires and kissed him. She had known better; she normally had much better control of herself than that. She didn’t know what she had been thinking; or more accurately, she hadn’t allowed herself to think it through or second guess her actions at all…that was the problem. She couldn’t believe she had done something so…so…juvenile. Thank goodness his daughter had come home when she did, or Kate didn’t know how far she might have gone that night.

In the days since the kiss, neither of them had brought it up. In fact, it had been pretty light on murders, so Castle had barely been at the precinct; he was never one for paperwork. That suited her just fine now; when he was there, she was always careful to make sure she wasn’t alone with him in any kind of setting that wasn’t entirely professional. When they were working, her comments were strictly professional.

She could tell he wanted to bring it up to talk, but she never gave him the chance, and thankfully, he followed her lead. She preferred to keep her work life and her personal life separate; it was easier for her to compartmentalize that way. And it had worked up until now. But Castle…her feelings for Castle, and his feelings for her…blurred the line between her personal and professional worlds because he touched both aspects of her life, and it was no longer simply a physical attraction between them. Then there was Josh…Castle had witnessed her fighting with Josh in the precinct…somewhere she wouldn’t have normally had the argument with him, but the doctor had showed up and insisted on talking to her anyway.

And then there was this case…this case, which currently had her trapped in a hazmat tent with Castle, who was freaking out a little bit about a nuclear bomb after her radiation detector had maxed out. This was not the way her life was supposed to go. She found herself wondering, and not for the first time that week, how the hell she had ended up in such a mess.

“Castle, we don’t know that it’s a bomb,” she tried to reassure him. But of course, she knew that he could very well be right. Her detector had maxed out…that was never a good sign. But at

least one of them needed to try to remain calm, and as a cop, clearly that was going to have to be her.

“Well, we will in that nanosecond before it goes off and we’re vaporized,” he countered. “I’m sorry…it’s just the writer in me going to the worst-case scenario,” he apologized as he came over and sat across from her.

She sighed, looking at the gloves she was holding in her hands as she sat and waited. “Can we just talk about something else?”

“Yeah,” Castle nodded. “How’s Josh?” he asked almost cautiously. Normally he wouldn’t dare bring up the detective’s boyfriend, but after witnessing the argument between her and the doctor at the precinct of all places, he couldn’t help but wonder just how strong their relationship was. Maybe they were on the outs, which might bode well for him.

Josh. When she had suggested they talk about something else, that wasn’t what she’d had in mind. She hadn’t expected him to ask about her relationship with the doctor. “Fine,” she answered simply. “He’s on his way to Haiti to do another Doctors Without Borders mission.”

Castle did his best to remain calm and casual with that information, especially since it seemed like something Kate was not happy about. “How long?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She was quiet for a few minutes, toying with the gloves in her hands. “It’s funny, Castle. You know, at first I loved that he was so busy. It just…it gave me an opportunity to keep one foot out the door just in case,” she sighed.

“But with one foot out the door, it’s hard to know where you stand,” he pointed out.

“And even if I did, I mean, what does it mean? He’s out there. He’s saving people. How do you even compete with that?” she asked, clearly frustrated.

“You can’t,” he shook his head. “No one can.”

“That’s one of the things that attracted me to him the most, you know?” she looked up at him. “That…passion. That…drive. Why is it that the thing that attracts you to a person always ends up being that thing that just drives you crazy?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. She took a deep breath and looked back at her gloves. “I just wish that it…I wish that I had someone who would be there for me, and I could be there for him, and we could just dive into it together.”

Castle remained silent for a moment, at war with himself over whether to speak up or just try to reassure her. “You do,” he finally stated quietly. “You have someone who will be there for you…always.”

His words had her eyes flying to his immediately. This is not the time, Castle. She tried to will him to stop talking, but that had never worked the entire time she’d known him.

“You have a choice. It’s actually kind of simple. I know you care about him…he’s a doctor, he saves lives, on paper you guys are perfect…and I’m sure he’s really great. He certainly doesn’t make it easy to hate him," he began quietly. "And I know I’m just a writer; I don’t save lives, or even really make the world a better place. But we don’t live our lives on paper. And Kate…I love you. In a really, frustratingly big, follow you into danger, be willing to die with you, take a bullet for you, unfortunate way that sometimes makes me hate you, love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me.”

Kate’s eyes widened, and she stared at him. What the hell was he doing? What the hell was she supposed to say to that?

Thankfully she was saved from having to formulate some kind of response when a hazmat worker unzipped the tent and came inside to talk to them. “You’re free to go.”

Castle looked from Beckett’s face to the worker with a look that hopefully conveyed his frustration at what the man was interrupting. “We…we are?” Because he could have used another few minutes in here with her away from the case and everything else.

“What about the radiation?” Beckett asked after finding her voice.

“We found residual traces of Cobalt 60 in the storage unit, but not enough to cause any health problems,” the worker explained, looking between the two of them before leaving.

Beckett stood with a smile. They were okay, and that meant she could get back to the case. It meant she could focus on something other than her love life, the unwilling love triangle she’d found herself in, and Castle’s speech. Pick him? Choose him? Love him? She couldn't deal with this now…not in the middle of a case. She needed to think…preferably over a few bottles of wine with Lanie as her sounding board.

Castle stood as well, gritting his teeth in frustration at the interruption. They had been so close to having to talk about their relationship. “Kate…” he tried, gently touching her elbow.

Montgomery walked into the tent, interrupting again before she could (had to?) say anything. “Detective Beckett, Castle, we’re all real glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Sir. So are we. I’m confused, though. Is this just a false alarm?” she asked, giving her captain her full attention.

“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “If you’re feeling up to it, we could really use you back at the precinct. I can fill you in on the way.”

Castle wanted to scream at the second interruption, but his curiosity was now piqued. “Those traces of Cobalt 60…where did they come from?” he asked.

“We think there was a second crate at the storage unit which contained large quantities of Cobalt 60. We found wire and crimp on connectors, which leads us to believe the crate was outfitted with explosives,” Montgomery explained.

“A bomb?” Beckett asked.

Montgomery’s face was deadly serious. “A dirty bomb.”

She swallowed hard at that news. “Where is it now?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Montgomery exited the tent.

Beckett made a move to follow, but Castle touched her elbow. “Kate…”

She shook her head. “Not now, Castle. We have to find the bomb,” she told him simply, following her captain out of the tent and leaving Castle no choice but to follow her silently and wait until the case was over.

xxxxx

Castle slowly opened his eyes, groggy and clueless as to where he was. After a few moments, he was able to take in his surroundings and realized he was in a medical facility. Slowly, the events started coming back to him. The bomb. The freezer. Kate! “Where is she?” he began struggling to get up.

“Sir, you need to calm down,” a paramedic struggled with him, trying to push him back on the stretcher.

“Where is she?” he struggled some more, realizing he wasn’t in a medical facility at all, but was in the back of an ambulance.

“She’s going to be fine,” he heard a familiar male voice. When the man stepped up into the ambulance, it was confirmed that Josh was indeed the owner of the voice, much to Castle’s chagrin. “You’re both going to be fine. We got you just in time,” he assured him.

This was almost a nightmare scenario…Beckett’s boyfriend having to save his life. Great. One more thing to not be able to hate him about. The only silver lining in this was that she was fine;

her boyfriend made sure she was fine. “Josh,” he stated. It wasn’t really a greeting…just a comment…an acknowledgment of sorts.

Josh studied him for a moment. “So you’re recovering from a moderate case of hypothermia. You’re going to be a little bit sluggish for awhile. But, with some warmth and fluids, you should be alright.” He was a complete professional, his personal feelings for the writer not withstanding.

“I thought you were in Haiti,” Castle commented.

The doctor shrugged. “Didn’t go. It wasn’t worth losing her over a couple of months in Haiti,” he stated simply. “I stayed for her,” he added in a tone that sounded a lot like he was claiming her and warning Castle to back off.

Castle had to swallow hard at the man’s words. He obviously cared very deeply about Kate as well. He felt like the way Josh spoke to him, telling him he had stayed for her in the tone he used, was almost like he knew Castle had feelings for her. Then again, what sane man wouldn’t develop feelings for her after spending any time around her?

“This is going to hurt,” Josh warned him, taking his IV out and putting a bandage over the mark. “Let’s get you up,” he added, pulling on Castle’s arm and using his hand at his back to guide him to a sitting position. “Alright, just move slowly,” he warned him, hopping down out of the ambulance.

After talking with Ryan and Espo to find out if they got the bomb and how they found them, he spotted Beckett leaning against a car, wrapped in a blanket. He climbed down from the ambulance with his own blanket and approached her, leaning next to her against the car. “So…your boy is back in town…” he started, trying to get a read on her after everything they’d been through in the past couple of days…everything he’d said to her, everything she’d almost said in that freezer.

“Mm-hmm. He came back,” she nodded, avoiding looking at him.

“What does that mean to you?” Castle had to ask her.

“Come on. Agent Fallon wants to debrief,” she answered, completely avoiding his question. This was not the time or place to have that discussion. They were still in the middle of a case. She wasn’t going to delve into her personal life until they had found the bomb; she couldn’t. She hadn’t even had time to process everything…including nearly dying. He was going to have to give her some time to just…think.

They passed along the information they had to Fallon, and when Beckett asked if they could rejoin the task force, Fallon had told her it was up to her doctor. So Castle had watched like a

sad puppy as she sauntered over to her boyfriend to get him to medically clear them. He had to look away as he saw her lean into Josh, her fingers curling at the opening of his jacket.

“You know, it’s funny. When I first met you two, I thought you two were together,” Fallon commented.

Castle turned away completely from the sight of Kate and Josh together, trying to school his expression. “No,” he said, but he couldn’t keep the sad tone out of his voice. “Just friends…partners,” he answered.

“Get cleaned up. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Castle nodded and looked up just in time to see Josh and Beckett share a soft kiss before turning his eyes back to the ground and walking away. He needed to find a ride to his apartment; he needed to get away from there.

xxxxx

“Fallon, do you know how to diffuse a bomb?” Beckett asked into her phone, trying her best to remain calm despite the fact that she and Castle were staring at the time that was quickly ticking down to a minute.

“Where are you?” Fallon asked.

“We’re at 55th and 11th,” she answered.

“I’d have to see it. Can you send a picture?” he answered back when he realized he was too far away to make it in time.

“Yeah. Yeah, hold on,” she took a couple pictures with her phone and sent them to the man on the other side of the conversation. “They’re uploading now.”

“45 seconds,” Castle informed them.

“You got it?” she asked, beginning to pray for a miracle at this point.

“It’s opening,” Fallon answered.

“Fallon?”

“Yeah…hang on!” he replied, trying to see something, anything, in the pictures she sent him.

Castle continued the countdown. “30 seconds.”

“Fallon?!” she asked, using every bit of police training she had to keep the panic out of her voice.

“I can’t see anything. I’m sorry…I’m sorry,” the agent apologized.

Beckett put her phone down and took a deep breath. This was it. They were going to die…together. The regrets of things she would miss, things she hadn’t said to people she cared about, the future she wouldn’t have now…and memories…so many memories…the laughter, laughing with the boys at the precinct, playing poker with the boys at Castle’s loft, joining the group for drinks at The Old Haunt...all came crashing around her; then there was his face, his smile, the way he looked at her…and it hit her like lightning. “Castle…” she started softly, so many things she wanted to say to him in the mere seconds they had left, but she didn’t have the words.

Castle took her hand and swallowed hard, giving her one last look. If they were going to die, she was going to be the last thing he saw. He grabbed all the wires connected to the bomb and yanked them, turning his back in anticipation of blowing them both up. When nothing happened, he turned and saw the time on zero.

“Castle!” Beckett immediately hugged him tightly in relief. Somehow, his dumb luck had saved them…again.

He returned her hug as they laughed a little to let out some of the tension they were both still feeling. “Yes!” he said, relief and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Back at the precinct, they had gathered in a conference room with celebratory beers, Beckett describing the events as they had unfolded. After Fallon had shown up and pulled Castle and Beckett away to say his official goodbye, Castle studied her for a moment. He was still feeling pretty high on life…and lucky. “Hell of a day, huh?” he asked her.

She nodded with a smile. “Hell of a day.”

“You know, I was thinking…” he started. He heard the ding of the elevator and spotted the all too familiar sight of the tall, dark, and handsome doctor approaching over her shoulder.

Josh came up behind Beckett before Castle could finish what he was saying. “Oh, hey,” she greeted him, giving into the hug he pulled her into. Even in the hug, her eyes met with Castle’s, silently offering an apology.

“You ready?” Josh asked with a smile.

She pulled back from the hug and gave Castle a small smile. “See you tomorrow?”

Castle swallowed hard but forced a smile for her. “Goodnight,” he told her.

Josh put his arm around her as they walked toward the elevator. When they got inside and turned, her eyes met Castle's again and she gave him an almost sad look.

He held her gaze as the elevator doors closed, realizing that he had gambled, overplayed his hand, and lost. She picked Josh. She chose Josh. She loved Josh.

xxxxx

The ride to Kate’s apartment was silent, but Josh didn’t think anything of it. He knew how Kate could be, and considering the day she’d had, he figured she just needed some silence to process everything, so he didn’t push. They entered her apartment in the same silence. She pulled off her jacket and headed to her bedroom to store her badge and gun before returning to the kitchen.

Josh had poured her a glass of wine and set it on the counter for her. She took a seat on the stool behind it quietly, watching him as he leaned back against her counter with his beer. When he gave her a smile, she looked down at her wine glass. “I think you should go to Haiti.”

Josh just stared at her, his smile fading. “What?” he asked.

“I think you should take the Doctors Without Borders mission and go to Haiti,” she repeated, looking up to meet his eyes.

“But you said you needed someone who would be here for you, that if I left that we were basically over...” he shook his head, studying her, trying to figure out what had changed. Seeing the sad look in her eyes, he knew. “Oh…” he realized; she was breaking up with him. He placed his beer bottle on the counter, clenching his jaw.

“Josh…I’m sorry…this just isn’t…”

“This is about him, isn’t it?”

“Josh…” she started.

“Are you sleeping with him, Kate?” he interrupted as his anger flared up.

“What? No!” she slid off her stool, her own anger flaring at the accusation. They’d had this fight before…so often that she knew he was referring to Castle without even having to say the name.

“Then what? You’ve just been lying to me this whole time? I knew…I knew there was something

more between the two of you, but this entire time you’ve insisted that you’re just friends.”

“I haven’t lied to you!” she shot back angrily. “This isn’t about Castle…”

“The hell it’s not! I turned down the Haiti offer to stay here…because you wanted me to be here. I chose you over my career, Kate…and after a couple of days of running around with Writer Boy, you’ve suddenly changed your mind?” he vented.

“Josh…that’s not how it happened…”

“Then how did it happen, Kate? How did we go from you being happy I stayed a day ago to telling me I need to leave? Tell me…how did it happen?”

She was silent then, pinching the bridge of her nose. She didn’t know how to answer that because she didn’t even know how it happened…or when. “I don’t know, okay?” she finally admitted.

He sighed, running his hands over his face. “Are you in love with him?” he finally asked her after a few minutes, his initial wave of anger having subsided for the moment. When she didn’t answer to deny it, it was as good as a yes. “Did you ever love me? Did you even try?”

“Don’t do this, Josh…” she shook her head. “I like you…I care about you…deeply.” But it wasn’t enough…not anymore. Not when she knew she wasn’t being fair to him.

“But you don’t love me,” he stated.

“I’m sorry…” she apologized, a few stray tears sliding down her cheeks.

He inhaled deeply and nodded, slowly releasing his breath. “Yeah…” he murmured.

“You’re a great guy, Josh. For what it’s worth, I did want this to work out,” she told him honestly.

“Me too.” He moved closer to her and dropped a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Goodbye, Kate,” he sighed. “I hope Writer Boy knows how lucky he is,” he murmured. And then he let himself out of her apartment.

She walked over to the door now that he was gone and locked it before leaning her back against it and closing her eyes. A couple more tears slipped out of her eyes, running down her cheeks as she slowly slid down the door to sit on the floor. What a hell of a day.

xxxxx

Where are my Grey’s fans at? I know you guys recognized where I got the concept for

Castle’s little speech. I’ve been watching early Grey’s Anatomy and when I saw that scene, I wanted to do my own version of it…but Beckett is NOT the “pick me, choose me, love me” type. However, much to my good fortune, Castle is…at least in this case I think.

And I told you Josh wouldn’t be around forever!

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I look forward to your thoughts for those of you who choose to comment!

#castle #caskett #kate beckett #richard castle #castle fanfiction

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reveluving · 2 years ago

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the prettiest of them all

summary: What better way to use a closet mirror, conveniently placed beside the bed than to see you writhe in his arms?

pairing: damien nazario x f!mc (written as ‘you’, no name usage)

warnings: mature/smut (minor DNI!)

a/n: couldn’t just leave our man Nazario out after writing for Beckett, so please enjoy this fic with our favourite private investigator! ‘you’ can be yourself or your OC! and don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» fancy reading another choices fic? check out my m.list!

disclaimer! this is a submission for:

‘CFWC Naughty & Nice’ by @choicesficwriterscreations with the prompts (Naughty); “I can’t move.” “That’s the idea.”

‘Picktober: Choices October Challenge’ by @choicesmonthlychallenge using the prompts (Kinktober); Biting & Mirrors.

» smut includes; dirty mind, biting obv, fingering, soft!Damien.

'The single piece of furniture, plus your scandalous moans playing in his head on a loop continuously taunting him.' ;

It was hard for Damien to believe that it's been six months since the end of the whole Eros incident. Though he has yet to sleep without waking up in a cold sweat every once in a while, he was definitely getting better by the day.

Plus, with you in his arms at every step of the way, he'd say he's doing pretty good!

Time flies when you're with the right person— as cliché as it sounds, the statement had resonated with him the moment he knew he wanted to be more than just your friend. He remembered Nadia offering him to hang out with the three of you as a thank-you for dealing with her stalker problem. He also remembered having second thoughts about it, considering how he's always ever avoided making friends with his clients. Yet, somehow, it was the need to see you again that pushed him to say yes.

No matter how hard he tried to deny his own feelings, he knew he had no chance of winning, and he'd often thank the universe for it.

So, getting the opportunity to enjoy an entire week in Hawaii with you, especially after a slew of misfortunes and just plain stress in the office, was like dying a hero.

Not that he'd call himself a hero.

Then again, he couldn't say that in front of you. Don't ever say that, you'd probably admonish him, but not out of anger.

Oh, you. Wonderful, wonderful you. Just an embodiment of pure love and hope.

He hasn't moved from his spot ever since he reluctantly let you leave the bed, glancing between the window and the bathroom. He was conflicted between watching the picturesque sunset and seeing you walking to and fro in the bathroom sink as you did your makeup.

You and Damien had just woken up, having been forced to follow Nadia and Steve to visit the local attractions at the crack of dawn. Sloane, Khaan and Hayden's presence made the activity bearable, considering it wasn't just you and Damien in that ten hour-torture. But what could he do? Nadia was the one paying for the trip, so Damien knew better than to bitch and whine about her itinerary.

Plus, Nadia knew he didn't hate it, as long as you were around, you knew your ways of distracting him.

He covered his eyes with one arm, the cloud-like pillow and your humming nearly lulled him back to sleep, only to raise his head at your soft 'fuck!'.

Something about the noise you made immediately had eyes landing on the closet mirror next to him. The single piece of furniture, plus your scandalous moans playing in his head on a loop continuously taunting him.

Fuck it.

And just like, he shot out of bed, unwilling to ignore what he had been wanting to do the second he got here.

Seeing you meticulously work on your lashes, he was nice enough to knock on the door, your expression shifting from extreme focus to a wide grin.

“Morning, handsome,” You joked and yet, you continued with perfecting your wing, “We should be getting ready, Nadia's been torturing my phone for like, 30 minutes now.”

As if on cue, the 'ding!' coming from your phone only supported your explanation, the 17th message from none other than Mrs Park herself.

Damien answered you with a hum, leaning against the door frame and watching you with his sharp eyes. He took in your current appearance; Dazzling and downright luscious, dressed to the nines, despite the lack of clothing covering you up. A naughty little vixen. A single taste of you and his self-restraints will immediately snap.

“Damien?” You didn’t look back at him, despite his lack of response, only for you to freeze up when he came up to you ever so slowly. The way he approached you with such a look made you feel like a prey, a thought that you couldn’t help yourself as you rubbed your thighs together.

He must’ve noticed it, chuckling as he stood behind you, his erection barely hiding behind his briefs as he pinned you against the counter.

“What are you doing?” You finally met his eyes in the mirror, giving him a nervous giggle.

“Just… appreciating.”

“Yeah? Well, do you mind if you…” You motioned him to step back with your free hand, “Move back a little?”

“Now, why would I do that?” His voice got deeper as if your question had offended him despite the mischief in his tone. You only thought of putting the brush down when he placed both of his hands on either side of you, trapping you between his hard chest and the counter.

“I… I can’t move.” The prominent bulge was impossible to ignore, especially when he began rolling his hips into your backside. You choked out a gasp, the mascara was long forgotten as it dropped to the floor, hints of ink smearing the marble top when it slipped out of your fingers.

“That’s the idea.”

He didn't give you the time to process and dragged you out to the bedroom, carrying you via bridal style. Your demands to put you down were as effective as a Pomeranian yapping at its owner, with Damien's chest reverberating with laughter against you.

Surprisingly, instead of placing you down on the bed as you expected, he sat on the edge of the bed, which faced the unexplainably long mirror. Damien knew he got you exactly where he wanted the second he heard your breath hitching, and he knew it wasn’t only because he had you on his lap.

It was the first thing you noticed when you checked in, the placement and sheer size of it drove your mind to run wild. It didn’t last long, though, for you were forced to snap out of it when Damien came in seconds later. But you should’ve known better than to think he didn’t notice, too focused on the idea of being ravished in front of it to see the smug on his face. You lied when he asked if you were okay, answering him ever so softly without meeting his gaze before running off to the bathroom ‘to change into your bikini’ despite forgetting to grab your swimwear out of your luggage.

Since then, his imagination, too, became anything but appropriate, though if he wasn’t being honest, he would’ve thought about it regardless. But the real problem was finding the right time for it. Since the very first day, he had you bouncing on his cock in the luxurious bathtub and has gone down on you in the sauna but not once have the two of you used the bed. Whether it was because you were too tired or too comfortable in the sheets, and in Damien’s arms no less, it didn’t matter anymore, because he was going to change that.

To hell with Nadia’s plans tonight, he had other priorities.

The way his warm breath tickled your neck as he perched his chin on your shoulder, his calloused hands running up and down your hips before settling them on your top. He grazed his teeth across your neck, easily finding the sweet spot that sent shivers down your spine. He didn’t spare you a second before biting into the soft skin, huffing out in amusement when you choked out a gasp, writhing in his arms, and he didn’t just do it once.

He didn’t want just one hickey on your pretty neck, after all.

He fondled your breasts, feeling your nipples tighten under the material. He dragged the top down, the material folding under your breasts and accentuating your assets. His mouth was dying to latch onto your nipples, but he was already too entranced by the current view in front of him. That didn’t mean who wouldn’t do it later.

He never said he’d be done with it after one round.

And the second his fingers brushed against your sensitive bud, he knew you were done for.

The way his fingers pumped in and out of your pussy had you squirming in his lap, his lips unconsciously parting with yours as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He didn’t even bother removing your panties, opting to move the offending material aside before easing in his thick, middle finger. The more he curled his fingers into you, the more you soaked both his briefs, down to the bedsheets. Not that he gave a shit anyway. In fact, it was exactly what he wanted to see, the same way he wanted to hear that delicious squelching.

Your head rolled back, resting it against his shoulder as he leaned in and whispered.

“Open your eyes, mi vida,” You whined, both from the nickname and how his voice went so far as to make you tighten around his fingers. He growled at the sensation, but managed to keep it together before continuing, “Look at yourself in the mirror and see how gorgeous you are.”

You tried to, you really did, but with the way rolled his hips against yours, it was almost impossible to even open your eyes, let alone keep your head up.

So, he helped you out.

His other hand moved from your waist, his fingers sliding from the valley of your breasts, tits now hard from when he rolled them just moments ago, before holding you by the jaw. It was nowhere near rough, but enough to help you look up.

If it wasn’t for Damien, you would’ve looked away just as quickly, your body growing hotter than you thought was possible at the sight; your skin glowing from the sheen of sweat and dim light coming from the bathroom, his thick fingers thrusting in and out of your tight hole and those blown out pupils of his as he watched you, right before his eyes met yours, now far less innocent of a situation then your brief conversation in the bathroom earlier.

“Cancel our plans,” You didn’t even know what he was talking about at first, not especially when he turned your head to look at him, hair disheveled and looking feral, “I want you to see how beautiful you cum in the mirror. Over and over again.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

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