#where Beckett Embraced him

[victorluvsalice]

Merry Christmas Squid!

@gaydragonwizards You said you wanted any story I wrote to feature Beckett, and then later added that it could also involve your OC Arianna (in her Malkavian VTMB Fledgling form, obviously) and that you'd prefer it to be chill. So here's something with Beckett and Arianna hanging around the Rodriguez house, having a spontaneous muse about their adopted sire/childe relationship. :) Hope you like!

--

“You know, I never really considered myself ‘father’ material before I met you.”

Arianna blinked, looking up from her book. “That – came out of nowhere,” she commented, raising an eyebrow at Beckett as he hovered near her chair.

“I suppose it did,” Beckett allowed with a chuckle. “My apologies – unfortunately for you, it appears I am feeling sentimental this evening.” He glanced left and right. “Perhaps because Melody isn’t around to spray paint me out of my mood.”

Arianna snorted. “They don’t tolerate mushiness well, no,” she agreed, setting her book down and turning to face him properly. “But neither do you, most of the time. What brought this bout on?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Beckett admitted, leaning on the back of the chair. “Perhaps the phase of the moon is tugging at my humors, imbalancing them in favor of the phlegmatic. Perhaps the blood I feasted on earlier tonight had a maudlin taste to it.” He smiled. “Or perhaps I just looked at you and thought, ‘why would she ever want me as a father figure?’ Which then led to ‘well, since when have I ever wanted to be a father figure?’ Which led to my comment in your general direction, and that to here.”

“I see.” Arianna smiled back at him. “Well, if you want an answer to that first question, it’s pretty simple, honestly – you were one of only a handful of Kindred who was consistently nice to me. I mean, you were also deeply sarcastic, yes, but...you also seemed to enjoy talking to me. Asking me questions and actually listening to my responses. I felt like almost nobody listened to me when I first got dragged into this life. And I really appreciated that you actually came with me to sort out what happened to your friend Scott, instead of just leaving it all on my head.” She grimaced. “I would not have enjoyed taking on that Lasombra hiding out beneath the library alone.”

“Frankly, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it either,” Beckett said, grimacing. “Lasombras are not to be trifled with – my occasional traveling companion Lucita is an absolute terror when she’s enraged. I wish she’d been with us when we were fighting that would-be cult leader. She would have made short work of him. And probably lectured us for getting in over our heads in the bargain.” He shook his head. “And while my friends would happily bend your ear for hours telling you all the ways I’ve nearly gotten myself killed, I didn’t want you to get killed by whatever we found. While I’ve always been impressed by your ingenuity and ability to get things done, I was well aware you were still only a fledgling. And one without a sire to help smooth the transition, thanks to Sebastian and his beheading-happy ways.”

Arianna chuckled faintly. “I know...though given how I was Embraced, I doubt he would have been much of a sire,” she added with a scowl. “I just consider myself really lucky that Bertram Tung was willing to share what he knew about the clans and the sects. And that Annabella was waiting for me when I was finally allowed back Downtown. And that I stumbled across Alice and Victor pretty early in my unlife. I’m not sure I would have gotten as far as I did without Alice watching my back at a few key moments. And don’t even ask how I could have gotten the sarcophagus back from the Giovanni without the Hawkes and that one friendly mage giving me a hand there.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that – you would have figured out something,” Beckett said, smirking. “After all – your neck was literally on the line at that moment.”

“Don’t remind me,” Arianna muttered, rubbing her neck. “And I don’t think any plan I had to execute on my own would have gone nearly as well. The point is, I did a lot better with help than on my own, and you being willing to help me out – multiple times – really endeared you to me.” She smirked back at him. “Granted, I don’t know if your sense of humor helped or hurt.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m the funniest Kindred within miles,” Beckett replied with a grin. “But if I must be serious, I was happy to help you – and not just because I too was eager to get a look at that sarcophagus and figure out what was inside. I simply – liked you. I knew how it felt to be thrown so suddenly into this world without the slightest idea what had happened – thank you so much, Gangrel Embrace traditions,” he muttered. “And I knew how it felt to have someone find you and take you under their wing. Not to mention, the way you looked so horrified about facing Sebastian all on your own after the museum...I couldn’t help but feel at least vaguely protective of you. Enough to help vouch for you. And then our paths kept crossing, and as I got to know you more, I got to like you more. Until...” He waved a hand to encompass the room. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Arianna agreed, tone warm. “And I like where we’ve ended up.”

Beckett smiled and nodded. “I do as well.”

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 17: The Country Visit

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: G Word count: 9.5k

Masterpost Previous chapter

Author's note: Thank you for your incredible patience, dear readers. I am still alive. Life has been life-ing me pretty hard but I think about finishing this fic every damn day. This chapter and the next one are the two big exposition bois that I hadn't written, hence the long wait for them but after that, several chapters are fully completed. I hope you enjoy the family shenanigans in this one. Also, I fully recognize that every time I mention Kate I simp for her ethereal beauty, for which I shall not apologize because she is a goddess and should be described as such. 😜 Enjoy! 💙

The endless procession of carriages marking the arrival of the Bridgerton family at Aubrey Hall brought with it an array of feelings for Benedict. An anxiety and sadness that his family would serve as a wedge between him and Sophie, and an undeniable eagerness to embrace them all, having been apart for so long. A familiar warmth flooded his heart as their voices began echoing in the entry hall and he dashed to meet them.

Anthony was the first to reach him, smirking. “Ah! Our invalid.” He hugged his brother tightly, leaving a possessive hand cupped behind his ear as he looked him over. “Are you alright?” The concern in his eyes betrayed how deeply the steely-faced Viscount truly cared.

“Never better,” Benedict grinned.

“Good,” Anthony clapped him on the shoulder and began to drift toward his study. “I’m pleased to see you haven’t burned the place down. I’m off to meet with Dewitt.”

His sister-in-law Kate glided along behind her husband, resplendent even in traveling clothes. Flashing Benedict a warm smile, she squeezed his arm as she passed. 

Daphne and Simon had joined the throng and Benedict paused a moment to observe everyone. There was comfort in the chaos of the reunion. Seeing them felt like snapping back into reality, as if he had been living in a fantasy world tucked away with Sophie and her faerie-like enchantment over him. He wondered if anyone would be able to detect something amiss. Though he had managed to be discreet about all manner of outrageous activity in the past, he had never attempted to hide something so close to home. 

“Benedict, dear.” His mother extricated herself and approached him with open arms.

“Mother,” He folded into her embrace.

“I have missed you.” She rested a hand on his cheek. “You are feeling quite well again?”

“Perfectly,” he smiled. “I’m the picture of health.”

She pulled back and appraised him, her eyes brightening. “I should say so. You wrote that you had hired a nurse to help you? We owe her our thanks, no doubt.” 

Benedict felt the color rise in his cheeks. “Yes, well, not a nurse exactly. She is a very skilled maid and…”

“Well how serendipitous!” His mother exclaimed. “I must ask you, do you know if she has experience as a lady’s maid?” His stomach clenched, already apprehensive of where this may lead. “I don’t know. Possibly?”

“Oh, I do hope she does.” Taking him by the elbow, Violet moved to a corner of the hall and dropped her voice to the exasperated tone Benedict knew was reserved for bemoaning his siblings’ misdeeds. “Just before we left, Eloise’s lady’s maid took ill and stayed behind. Though in truth I wonder if she did not bow out so as to avoid your sister’s moods.”

Benedict couldn’t help but snicker, unabashedly proud of his sister’s obstinance. 

“What is her name again?” Violet asked.

“Sophie,” Benedict tried to keep his voice from wavering. “Sophie Beckett.”

His mother’s face lit with a smile. “Excellent. I shall call for her during tea.”

“Oh…um…perhaps…” A dozen half baked protests swirled in his mind and he stuttered as he tried to land on one. 

Her plan already happily cemented, his mother began to shoo him down the hall. “You should go and help Anthony, dearest. Oh, and make sure Colin stays away from the kitchen as best you can. We’ll need to have some biscuits saved for our guests. Plenty to do, dear. Off you go.”

Anxiety spiking through his every nerve, Benedict stumbled away blindly. He fought to find composure, reminding himself that if he and Sophie were to remain undiscovered, he must not get flustered over the details of her employment. He must act as if she were any other maid, though of course she was anything but.

___

The Bridgertons had only just arrived and Sophie was already second-guessing her decision to remain at Aubrey Hall. She had been so wholly focused on Benedict that she had failed to consider what risks there were in being seen by his family. When all of the servants had formed their customary lineup at the front doors to welcome them home, she had tucked herself behind Lizzie and admired each well appointed carriage and each handsome brunette Bridgerton that stepped out of it. Then he appeared and her blood ran cold.

Colin Bridgerton. The only other person with whom she had interacted at the masquerade ball. Living on gauzy dreams of Benedict for years, she had forgotten about it entirely. What if he had a keener eye than his brother? What if he remembered her voice? Would he be able to recognize her from that brief, masked encounter in a shadowed garden so long ago? Reason told her it was highly unlikely but she resolved to avoid him nonetheless. She turned her face as he jogged up the steps and he took no notice of her. Once everyone had gathered inside Sophie was introduced to the housekeeper Mrs. Wilson, an older woman of stern stature but kind eyes. Accepting Mr. Dewitt’s explanation of her employment, Mrs. Wilson’s first task for Sophie was to iron more linens for the guest bedrooms. 

Hard at work in the belly of the house, Sophie’s mind raced. While in proximity to the Bridgertons she was at twofold risk of discovery. Discovery not only of her scandalous relationship with Benedict, but of her trespassing into their London home years ago. How would Benedict react if either came to light? Surely it would be the end of their trysts, the end of her employment, perhaps the end of her freedom if they chose to prosecute her. Perhaps she should remain in the servant’s level for the entirety of the country visit which effectively ended their dalliance anyway. She began to wonder if she had already shared her last encounter with Benedict. Had already felt his caress for the final time, had already tasted their last kiss…

“Staying on then, are you?”

Anne suddenly appeared in the doorway and startled Sophie out of her thoughts. Even after weeks of working alongside one another while Sophie extended every kindness, the fellow maid had never warmed to her. She wore a perpetual grimace and seemed immune to any kind of cheer.

“Yes,” Sophie swallowed and turned back to her ironing. “The family has permitted me to stay and assist with the visit.”

Anne smirked. “You mean Mr. Benedict has permitted you to stay.”

Sophie ignored the flutter in her stomach and answered matter-of-factly. “Yes, it was his decision initially.”

Blocking the exit, Anne crossed her arms, leering. “He seems quite taken with you. I’ve never seen any member of the family so invested in a maid before. Kindnesses exceeding what is customary.”

Sophie knew the steam from the iron was not the reason she felt flushed. But she had a lifetime of experience dealing with manipulation. She wouldn’t be shaken so easily. The trick was to answer with ruthless exactitude; never lying, but never giving her tormentor what she knew they wanted. “Well, my hiring was anything but customary. He was in need and I was available to assist. I believe he is only trying to express gratitude.”

“Gratitude, yes.” Anne arched a brow. “You spend a lot of time upstairs…accepting his gratitude.”

Stiffening, Sophie forced a breezy tone. “I am on hand if he should require anything. He often requests that I read to him.”

“I know how to read and in all these years he’s never once asked me.” Anne’s pout and petulant tone assured Sophie that she was none the wiser to the actual truth. She may have been ready to brandish threats but had no proof. This line of accusation was fueled purely by jealousy which she had been riddled with from the day they met.

Sophie pursed her lips. “Well, it does require a degree of wit and character to truly make the passages come to life.”

Before Anne could respond, Mrs. Wilson appeared at her side.

“Miss Beckett, if you would follow me.”

With a nod of assent Sophie brushed passed Anne, flashing her a warning look that dared another challenge.

Sophie’s nerves rose steadily as she walked silently behind Mrs. Wilson, the both of them winding their way through staircases and halls until they reached the closed doors of the drawing room. Sophie swallowed hard, wondering what awaited her inside. An array of accusatory scowls and a note of dismissal? A fuming Viscount shaking a piece of her waylaid clothing at a shame-faced Benedict? The sins they had committed in that room…

But when Mrs. Wilson pushed open the door she was met with the lovely tableau of ladies at tea. The Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton sat in all their finery on opposite sofas, sipping lightly from china cups. Miss Francesca played a flowery tune on the piano in a far corner. The youngest Bridgerton, Miss Hyacinth, was practicing her penmanship with a governess at a table. The room was sunlit and nothing but welcoming.

Mrs. Wilson ushered Sophie to stand before the sofas and she curtsied deeply.

The elder Lady Bridgerton rested her saucer and looked up.

“Ah, you must be Miss Bennett.”

“Beckett, ma’am.” Sophie dropped her eyes respectfully. “Sophie Beckett.”

“Oh yes, I’m sorry.” Lady Bridgerton chuckled and Sophie could not help but notice how the blue shade of her eyes matched Benedict’s exactly. “Miss Beckett. I must thank you for caring for my son during his illness. How fortunate that you were at hand in his time of need. Our family is indebted to you.”

Once again, Sophie was struck by the kindness that seemed inherent to the Bridgertons. She had never been treated so well by any employer. “No, I am indebted to him, ma’am. Your son…saved me from a most unpleasant fate, then gave me employment here while I am between positions. He has been more than generous and I have very much enjoyed the hospitality of your home.” 

There was a world of story hidden behind her words, but she was confident it would remain there. Discretion was one of the many skills she had learned through the hardships of her life.

Then the Viscountess addressed her. “It sounds as if your debts have been mutually paid then.” She was so impossibly beautiful, Sophie found it difficult to hold her gaze despite her warm smile. “Miss Beckett, have you secured a new position yet?”

“Not yet, my lady.”

“Would it be your wish to remain in our employment?”

Benedict’s mother jumped in to explain. “My second daughter Eloise is without a lady’s maid at the moment. I’m afraid we are short-staffed to prepare her for the ball we are hosting. Have you any experience upstairs?”

Sophie’s thoughts began to race. She had intended to remain for the country visit, but as a housemaid relegated to the servant’s level. To work upstairs would complicate her plans to stay out of sight. And yet when she tried to dredge up the white lies she used to deceive the Cowpers, she found that she could not. The gentleness in both women’s eyes compelled her to tell the truth. “Yes, ma’am. It has been some years but I have dressed young ladies for the season.”

Lady Bridgerton beamed. “Excellent. I thought you might. You speak very well. You seem to be precisely what our family needs at every turn, don’t you? A blessing indeed.”

“If you should like to remain as a lady’s maid for Miss Eloise, we will increase your wages and keep you on during our visit,” said the Viscountess.

Lady Bridgerton nodded. “Yes, and we will provide a letter of the highest recommendation for your next position.”

Sophie paused a moment, considering their offer. Clearly Benedict had not told them of his own offer to refer her and pay her handsomely once she found a new position. An offer of employment had never materialized from the Stirling household in Scotland, something she had been quietly celebrating since mending things with Benedict. A recommendation from a Viscountess would carry more weight than that of a second son, and raised wages from a higher position could set her up nicely for the future when and if she ever needed to leave the family’s employ. Weighing the benefits against the risks, she reasoned that Colin Bridgerton and any other member of the ton were unlikely to recognize her for the same reason Benedict could not. Their own bias against her lowly position. If anyone questioned her, she had only to point at her servant’s uniform to undermine their suspicions. Who would truly believe the trajectory of her life? From faux debutante at a Bridgerton ball long ago, to a servant in the very same household. It beggared belief, sometimes even from herself.

Working upstairs also afforded her more opportunity to see Benedict, if not speak with him directly. She knew they were enforcing distance but her heart already ached to at least see him from afar. To see how he interacted with his family and how he navigated society. At Eloise’s side she could safely observe him without seeming out of place. She was resolved.

“Thank you, Lady Bridgerton.” She curtsied to the Viscountess and then her mother-in-law. “Lady Bridgerton…both of you. I should very much like to stay.”

Next she knew, she had been outfitted with a smarter uniform and marched back upstairs to the family wing by Mrs. Wilson.

The housekeeper bustled along in front of her, all business. “Mrs. Wiggin tells me that you have been of great help around the house. There will be no more cleaning and tea service duties for you now that you are to attend Miss Eloise. You will be responsible for waking her, dressing her, chaperoning her on outings and tending to her needs.” 

“Yes, I understand.”

They moved past Benedict’s bedroom and rounded down another hall before stopping in front of a door. Mrs. Wilson turned to her with a serious look.

“I should warn you. Miss Eloise is…spirited. She has had four lady’s maids since her debut, if you take my meaning.” She raised her eyebrows pointedly. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky that you are only standing in for the visit.”

Sophie felt a pang of apprehension. Benedict had not spoken much about his siblings during their time together, and certainly not in any way that would indicate they were anything but kind and playful. She had noted Eloise’s curious absence from teatime and had also begun to recall hearing her name in the Cowper household years ago. Cressida held a very poor opinion of her but then, that did not make Eloise more notable than any other young lady of the ton. There was certainly no way Eloise could be worse than Cressida.

After a quick rap on the door, Mrs. Wilson pushed it open and they stepped inside. Seated at a large and cluttered writing desk in the middle of her well-appointed bedroom, Eloise startled at their appearance and quickly shuffled papers over whatever it was that held her focus. She stood, trying to obscure the desk behind herself. Instantly Sophie understood why Eloise may be regarded as ‘difficult’. Prim and proper young debutante she was not. She had the stance and smirk of one who did not much care for etiquette and tradition. Her hair was unfashionably short and fringed and the jacket she wore over her pale sage dress had a rather masculine crop. The room was untidy and filled with the kind of ornaments one would expect in a man’s study -  piles of books, ink stains on parchment, busts of authors, and a large telescope facing a window. 

Mrs. Wilson regarded her with exasperation. “Miss Eloise, this is Sophie Beckett. She will be serving as your lady’s maid while we are in the country.”

Sophie curtsied and smiled.

“Excellent. Pleasure to meet you.” The sarcasm was thick in her voice. She forced a grin as Mrs. Wilson bowed out of the room. Her affectation continued as she rolled her eyes. “I am so delighted that a stand-in was found to assist me with the crucial undertaking of buttoning my frocks.”

Sophie quirked her lips, entertained rather than daunted by Benedict’s rebellious sister. “I am certain you would be capable of managing such a task yourself, Miss. But is there not some pleasure to be found in conversation with a confidante throughout your day?”

The young woman cocked her head, assessing Sophie carefully. “Confidante? I’ve never had a lady’s maid describe herself as such before.”

“What are we for but safeguarding the secrets of our ladies?” From the smell of tobacco in the air, she deduced what Eloise had been doing at her desk. She jutted her chin knowingly at the mess of papers. 

A wry smile began to spread across Eloise’s face as she sat and uncovered the tobacco pouch and collection of rolling papers. Sophie felt a surge of victory at already winning a degree of trust.

Eloise toyed with the half-rolled cigarette she had been making. “I know ladies should not smoke, but if I will not be allowed more privacy while we are in the country, at least you could spare me a little indulgence.”

Sophie moved to her side and delicately plucked the cigarette from her grasp. “I believe you should roll them more tightly. Like this.” Carefully, she worked at the paper until it was shaped securely.

Eloise’s eyes boggled. “Do you enjoy them yourself?”

Sophie shook her head. “Not me, no. But I have worked with many people who do.” She handed the token back.

“Thank you.” Eloise could not seem to look away from her remarkable new lady’s maid who not only failed to chastise her for unladylike behavior, but even assisted her with it. She tucked the cigarette safely into a case on her desk. Her posture eased and she leaned back to get a better look at this rare woman. “Where do you come from?”

“North of London originally, but I have lived many places and worked in many houses.” 

Eloise’s eyes lit with recognition. “Are you the one my brother hired recently?”

Sophie tried not to blush at the mere mention of Benedict. “Yes. Mr. Bridgerton assisted me in a difficult situation then fell ill. I was able to return the favor by ensuring he recovered here.” Considering what a rulebreaker Eloise appeared to be, Sophie wondered what such a woman would think of her brother’s salacious dalliance with a maid. She would never reveal it of course, but she got the impression that Eloise may not be scandalized by the concept.

“And now I am your problem in place of him.” Eloise smirked.

Sophie chuckled. “I would not use that word, Miss. I have enjoyed his company and look forward to getting to know you and your family better.”

To demonstrate her readiness she began tidying, brushing loose tobacco dust from the desk and dropping it into the fireplace. She moved to the vanity and began straightening the hairbrushes and tincture bottles which were woefully disarrayed.

“Well I doubt there will be much time for chatter with the guests inbound in two days. This Hearts and Flowers ball always brings chaos to the house.” Eloise groaned from her seat.

Sophie already anticipated her answer but asked. “It sounds as if you are not looking forward to it?”

Eloise shrugged. “There are some acquaintances I am eager to see, but plenty that I would rather avoid. I’m not even sure I know who is on the guest list this year.” 

“Could you ask the Viscountess?”

“I fear she would misinterpret my intentions and believe I was searching for an eligible suitor, which is a conversation I’d like to avoid entirely, thank you very much.” 

Sophie had to keep from laughing at how utterly dejected Eloise looked, arms crossed and posture slumped. Then she had an idea, a way of both solving the conundrum and earning more trust.

“Copies of the list are provided to the staff so that we might prepare rooms and meals. Would you like me to secure one for you?”

Eloise brightened, once again agog at her new companion. “That would be helpful, thank you Sophie.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss.”

The smile they shared was filled with affinity. Here was another woman who kept secrets, who broke rules. A woman not unlike herself, Sophie thought, yet also similar to Benedict in her ease and good humor. Working for Eloise was a world away from working for Cressida. Sophie could not imagine two young ladies at further ends of the spectrum regarding propriety and appearances. Like her brother, Eloise’s disposition was rare within society and Sophie began to wonder if every last Bridgerton was so uniquely charming.

Sophie spent the evening acquainting herself with Eloise’s wardrobe and toilette, straightening her room as she went. She had half a mind to call Anne upstairs for the task so that she might acknowledge Sophie’s promotion, but it seemed too spiteful. She still aimed to keep a low profile among the staff and family both. She was able to procure a copy of the ball guest list from Mrs. Wiggin and on her way to deliver it to Eloise, she made sure to scan the names herself.

The Cavenders had not been invited, which she suspected Benedict had a hand in. The Cowpers were also noted as sending their regrets. Just seeing their name in print made Sophie break into a cold sweat, but she remembered that they often visited Penwood at this time of year which likely explained their absence. Fortune seemed to be on her side for avoiding any risky encounters, and there was a spring in her step as she returned to Eloise’s room to prepare her for bed.

The next day was for the Bridgertons to enjoy the estate before guests arrived. Eloise proved difficult to rouse but quick to dress in the morning. Caring very little for ostentation, she was satisfied by the simple frock and hairband which Sophie supplied. After breakfast Eloise requested her company for a walk through the grounds. Sophie took the gesture as one of generosity and trust. As they walked through the gardens where she and Benedict had shared so many passionate moments, she fought to concentrate on what was being said. Eloise was an effortless companion in that she never left a lull in the conversation. Indeed, Sophie spoke very little except to express her general support of Eloise’s many plans for reforming society and her own path in life. She longed for an education, for adventure, for advocacy. She fretted for the plight of women, though Sophie suspected she had little understanding of the tribulations faced by the working class. Nonetheless, she was impressed with the young woman’s drive and eager to have further conversations on all Eloise had read and experienced. The spirited nature she had been warned of was proving to be nothing but charming.

The highlight of the day was the family’s annual pall mall game, which Eloise explained the rules of as Sophie accompanied her to the back lawn. They arrived at the site of the game before anyone else and Eloise unabashedly outlined her devious plans. Grabbing the fifth wicket from a stack, she hitched her dress and began marching across the grass to place it in the most inconvenient location possible, somewhere between a dense thicket of bushes and the infamous ball-pit of the lake. She assigned Sophie to stand guard several paces away and then disappeared into the brambles, wicket in hand.

Sophie kept her back to Aubrey Hall, snickering to herself as she enjoyed the cool breeze. She remembered Benedict’s retelling of last year’s game and now had a clearer picture of Eloise’s ruthless, even deceptive competitiveness. She also wondered when the last time was that she assisted in any task purely for the sake of fun. It was a light, sunny feeling. Which all came crashing down when a man’s voice rang out behind her.

“You there!”

She spun and saw Colin Bridgerton striding toward her, eyes stern. Oh god, he had recognized her. She could already hear the anger in his voice, could already feel his grip on her arm as he dragged her to the Viscount to expose her. She had been a fool to think she could stay hidden. She felt as paralyzed as a deer in the sights of a stalker.

All she could do was blanch, voice wavering. “Sir?”

He stopped short in front of her, eyes scrutinizing her face. “You…”

This was it. The end of her silly dreams…

“You’re not the lady’s maid from London,” he said at last.

Sophie nearly swayed on her feet as the wave of nausea halted. He didn’t recognize her. She was nothing but another nameless maid to him, just one he hadn’t seen before. Her assumptions had been correct. He was as blinded by her class as his brother. 

“No, sir,” she affirmed, finding her voice again. “I am newly retained to see to your sister while you are in residence.”

“Ah.” A smirk crossed his face and she could see he held his hands behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He scanned the lawn around them, quipping. “Can you see her now?”

Sophie felt certain that this was all a ploy in the great pall mall rivalry. Well, her allegiance was set. Pursing her lips, she answered. “She is placing the fifth wicket, sir.”

“And she asked you to stand guard.”

“Yes.” Sophie sensed the budding good humor of their conversation. “Do you suspect me of underhanded behavior?”

Colin grinned. “I am accusing my sister of it. I’m sure you are innocent and have been lured into her deceitful enterprise unknowingly.” Once again he searched the horizon. “If you could just tell me where she is…”

“A lady is entitled to her privacy, wouldn’t you agree?”

Colin’s eyes snapped back to her, surprised at her direct tone. 

“Do you believe I am so dimwitted as to allow myself to become embroiled in a scheme against my will?”

He bowed his head in apology. “I meant no offense. Most maids are unused to dealing with Eloise’s…spirited manner.”

There was that phrase again. Now it was Sophie’s turn to smirk.

“I have dealt with far worse than Miss Eloise, I assure you.”

Colin assessed her again carefully. “Well, you are clearly strong of spirit and quick of wit. What about sweet of tooth?”

Finally revealing what was behind his back, he held out a pastry. Something covered in chocolate and delectable looking. “Have you ever had an eclair?”

In truth, she had not, but her loyalty was not so easily bought.

She arched a brow at him. “A bribe? Is pall mall victory really so viciously contended for?”

He chuckled. “You have no idea.”

Their stalemate was broken by the reappearance of Eloise.

“What are you doing here?” Shaking leaves from the hem of her dress, she scowled at her brother. “Looking for the wicket? Well, you’ll have to find it during the game, along with everyone else.”

Nose in the air, she swiped the eclair from his outstretched palm, shoved it whole into her mouth and marched onward to the house. “Come on!” She ordered, her words muffled.

Barely containing her laughter, Sophie followed her mistress, leaving Colin gaping by the waterside.

Everyone had gathered in the sprawling back garden and were buzzing with the anticipation of play. Lady Bridgerton and a contingent of nursemaids were bouncing the grandchildren in their laps on a covered dais while the Viscount, his siblings and their spouses gathered to select their mallets. Eloise dashed into the crowd and secured the orange while Anthony and his wife seemed to bicker over the imposing black mallet. Sophie skirted the scene and started back up the large stone steps into the building but paused to find Benedict among the gathered chestnut heads. He stood slightly off to one side, hip cocked and hands rested on his lavender mallet as his eyes trailed up to hers.

It was the first time they had seen each other in two days and their shared gaze was heavy with yearning. In that moment, the noise and bustle of the Bridgertons fell away and they felt like the only two people on earth. As tenuous as their arrangement was, Sophie couldn’t help but feel magnetized to him; the only constant in her ever-changing circumstances. 

Benedict stared at her as a man transfixed, his chest tightening in that indescribable way. She looked happy, light-hearted, and it made her glow from within. He wanted to capture that light, to infuse it into her portrait…

“Brother!” Anthony barked in his ear, startling him out of his reverie.

“Are you playing or lollygagging?” Eyes burning with signature intensity, the Viscount bade him follow and Benedict forced himself to plod across the grass and away from the captivating woman on the stairs. No one seemed any the wiser as to what had caught his attention, but he wondered how long he could try to ignore Sophie when a single glimpse of her caused such turmoil within.

Darting into Aubrey Hall, Sophie stationed herself by a window to watch the game unfold. Though she could not hear any of the exclamations from the field, it was evident how much joy and fierce competition it stirred. Taunts, encouragement, cheers, laughter. The grounds were alive with the fun of it all. Every sibling and spouse demonstrated their skillset, some adept at the technical approach and others more determined to settle grudges by disrupting their opponents’ efforts. They moved numerically from wicket to wicket, varying in pace, sometimes disappearing from view to find the far-flung goals. Sophie could only imagine where Eloise had hidden hers. Colin was disqualified early but seemed entirely content to join his mother for cakes and tea while wiggling his fingers at his nephew Edmund.

After nearly two hours, the finalists lined up at a hoop approximately five feet off the ground, which Sophie understood from Eloise was the last goalpost. To be deemed the victor, one had to shoot their ball through the hoop by any means other than their hands. The Viscount’s shot went wide. The Duchess’ did not achieve sufficient height. The Viscountess was prowling with anticipation for her shot but Benedict was before her in turn order. Sophie watched in delight as he took the unconventional tack of balancing his ball between his feet then jumping like a frog to launch it through the hoop. To everyone’s amazement - including his - it worked and he crowed with victory, running about and whooping in the faces of his siblings.

Sophie clapped from her spot at the window, laughing with glee. Of course she had been rooting for him and fate once again proved to be on their side. In the midst of her laughter she found that tears had begun rolling down her cheeks. Her joy was echoed by longing. Longing for siblings, longing for a family, longing for the kind of happy life enjoyed by the Bridgertons. But she wiped them away, recognizing that though she was still in the uniform of a maid, she was the happiest she had ever been. She still got to enjoy the beauty and comfort of Aubrey Hall even if she was not an esteemed guest from the ton. She still got to laugh at the shenanigans of the Bridgerton siblings even if she could not join in. And she still got to lay claim to Benedict as a lover, a man who pleasured and protected her, even in their odd arrangement. It was a happier life than she could ever have imagined while wretchedly scrubbing floors for the Cowpers. Tomorrow didn’t bear worrying about, because today she was happy.

___

At last the day of the Hearts and Flowers ball arrived. Carriages loaded with the top tier of society descended upon the house in waves. Aubrey Hall erupted with noise and movement as the guest rooms filled and the common areas became dotted with simpering debutantes, weary bachelors, drunken fathers and scheming mamas. The flower arrangements chosen by the Bridgerton women were dazzling. Garlands and swags of roses, lilacs and lilies. As she made her way to Eloise’s room, Sophie felt as if she were walking through both a verdant garden and a fine parfumerie.

As she picked out a shawl to match Eloise’s dress, trying to skillfully combat the young lady’s protestations against joining in lawn games, there came a knock at the door. When she opened it to find Benedict, her breath caught in her throat. He too seemed taken aback, stumbling over his words about lending his sister a book which he held out in explanation. Eloise sat at her vanity, thanked him and blithely waved him away. Turning to Sophie, Benedict pressed the small volume into her hands, his touch lingering too long on her bare fingers, eyes burning. Then as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

Examining the book, Sophie saw a sheet of parchment jutting from the back cover. Clearing her throat, she slipped it quickly into an apron pocket and carried the gift to Eloise. As she finished dressing her for the day, it was all she could do to keep her fingers from trembling with anticipation.

The day passed in a blur, with the Bridgertons and guests mingling in every corner of the house and grounds. Sophie joined the cadre of ladies maids who bustled between the bedrooms, stitching loose threads, buffing shoes, polishing jewelry and trading rose water as they coordinated for the evening ball. Stealing the occasional glance out the windows, Sophie eyed Eloise chatting in an animated fashion with a young lady in yellow. She also heard through the servants’ chatter that the men had returned from a hunt with a stag and two does felled. She wondered if Benedict had made any of the killing shots. If only she could catch a glimpse of him in his hunting ensemble, with a long coat and top hat astride Danae. The mental image gave her an undeniably carnal thrill.

In what seemed no time at all, she and Eloise were stationed back at the vanity, dusk falling purple and soft outside as Sophie lit candles and proceeded to pin the young lady’s hair into a stylish coiffure. In a cluttered drawer she had found a bejeweled hairpiece in the shape of a geranium and nestled it gently within her upswept tresses. For her gown, Eloise had chosen one in a modest style, mint-toned and glimmering with silver accents. Sophie thought it suited her perfectly - beautiful but understated. Style with wit rather than ostentation.

As she dotted rouge onto her cheeks, she asked an amiable question to which she already suspected the answer.

“Are you excited for the ball, Miss?”

“Not particularly.” Eloise’s voice was tight.

“You’re not one for dancing?” Sophie wondered if Eloise was also cursed with two left feet like her brother.

The young lady rolled her eyes. “I’m not one for listening to stodgy men prattle on about how many carriages they own as if that will enamor me enough to marry them.”

Sophie grinned. Eloise’s frankness was unfailingly refreshing. But she knew better than most the discomfort of feeling out of place, and she disliked the thought of sending her off into an evening of drudgery. However, this was Eloise’s role; to attend balls and interview suitors, the same way her role was to primp her to do so, and they had to proceed no matter how much they both longed for something different. All she could offer was her own commiserating perspective. 

“If I may be honest, in my experience it is rare to find gentlemen among the ton who are both kind and interesting.” Then she caught herself. “Of course, I am counting your brothers as the exceptions.”

Eloise scoffed. “Well, I’m not certain about that. You don’t really know them.”

Sophie felt the blush rise up her neck and turned to hide it, busying herself with the face powders. But it was too late, Eloise had noticed.

“Though I suppose you’ve come to know Benedict.” She smiled wryly, now even more curious about her new lady’s maid. “I will say, it’s not a secret that he is my favorite brother.”

Sophie continued to fiddle with the contents of the vanity. “Oh? And why is that?”

“I suppose of anyone in my family I can be my true self around him without fear of judgment or reprimand. He is supportive. Since our father died it’s as if he has been the eldest brother to us all, while Anthony became our father more or less.”

At last Sophie turned and met her gaze, impressed by the first genuine show of emotion she had seen. She moved to affix Eloise’s earrings, smiling wistfully. “It is wonderful that they have been there for you.”

Eloise nodded. “Mmm. And we are quite similar. Benedict also disdains balls and playing the marriage mart.”

As she worked at the small fasteners, Sophie pondered for the first time how odd it was that Benedict remained unmarried. Considering he had been deemed the most eligible bachelor in London years ago when they first met, he must have gone to great pains to avoid the throng of ladies throwing themselves at his feet. But why?

“So the two of you do not wish to marry?”

“Well, I don’t think Benedict is opposed to marriage. But he’s a romantic.” Eloise explained. “The only thing that motivates him are his passions. So he is waiting for a love match, I’m sure. Which is even harder to find than a good dance partner.”

She snorted in laughter which Sophie half-heartedly imitated. It was no revelation to her that Benedict had a romantic soul. He was an artist after all. But the thought of him marrying for love rather than duty, of being blissfully happy with a woman of society who would carry his children and walk on his arm, it made her stomach turn. It was everything she wanted and precisely what she could not have. It was why she would eventually have to leave.

Eloise carried on, completely oblivious. “I certainly do not want to get married or bear children. Though I am struggling to determine what kind of life is available to a woman otherwise.”

With this comment compounding the sting, Sophie could not help but make a sour face and look away.

That was enough to draw Eloise’s attention. “I’m sorry Sophie, that was insensitive of me. Of course there are plenty of unmarried women who work, and working for a livelihood is…”

“It’s just that you are not of the class that is required or even allowed to do so.” After a steadying breath, Sophie turned back. Her woes were not of Eloise’s making. If anything, they made her see how they were similarly caged at either end of the social spectrum. Perhaps in the world the young woman envisioned, they would both have been able to break free.

“You have not offended me. I understand. I understand very well how the circumstances of our birth can restrict our path in life and I do not think that applies only to the lower classes.” Bending over her shoulder to meet her eyes in the looking glass, Sophie gave her a reassuring smile. “There are a great many injustices in our society, Miss Eloise. It seems like you may be of a mind to help resolve some of them.”

Tears sparkling in her eyes, Eloise’s voice was raspy but sincere. “Thank you, Sophie.”

With continued words of encouragement Sophie gave her a handkerchief, helped her to pull on her gloves and sent her down to the ballroom looking as polished as an emerald. She would wait eagerly to hear how the evening progressed, wondering if she would return as dejected as she set out. As she straightened the bedroom, the murmurs of the gathered guests grew louder downstairs, followed by the first strings of music. It was joyful, romantic, and she was instantly transported back to the night of the masquerade ball. The first and only time she had been able to experience such magic firsthand. A night where she held Benedict’s undivided attention, twirling in his arms despite not knowing how to dance. With a moment of privacy at last, she fished the parchment out of her pocket and unfolded it. It was a painting, a simple watercolor of delicate blue flowers with their name written neatly in a corner - Forget Me Not.

Clasping the paper to her chest, she fell back onto Eloise’s bed, beaming. Her mind flooded with images of Benedict and the hope that his love match would continue to elude him that night. He was only downstairs and yet he felt worlds away. But no matter the distance, she was incapable of forgetting him.

____

In the rose colored ballroom below, everything was progressing with the signature elegance of a Bridgerton event. Candles twinkled from every sconce and surface, reflecting the crystal of the champagne flutes and the embellishments of the ladies’ attire. Flowers trailed along every railing and entryway, lending a sweet fragrance to the air. Dancers twirled expertly in the center of the room while guests in all their finery moved between clusters of conversation and towers of brightly colored confections. The Viscountess, dowager Lady Bridgerton and Duchess of Hastings stood regally near the double staircase, surveying the scene with pride.

The Viscount found himself among a group of gentlemen listening to the details of a business proposition laid out by Lord Fife. It was unlike Fife to have anything worthwhile to say, but his latest venture sounded promising. Even Simon was showing interest, as he elbowed his way in and they sipped their brandies together.

“Where is my brother?” Anthony muttered, scanning the faces of the men gathered. “God knows what he’s been up to these days. He should hear this.”

Simon sighed. “You should know by now that you need to be more specific than that. Which brother?”

“Benedict.”

The Duke’s brows shot up. “Ah. I haven’t seen him tonight. Though I have some idea where he might be.”

Anthony knew to be wary of that smug tone. Tapping his eldest friend on the arm, they steered away from the crowd. “What do you mean?”

Simon kept his voice low, turning his back to the room. “It’s none of my business but…in his convalescence he seems to have taken up with one of your maids.”

“Oh god,” Anthony groaned, eyes rolling. “How do you know this?”

“We have seen it, Daphne and I. I’ve seen his eyes follow her out of a room and Daphne said she has seen…”

The Duke paused, trying to tread lightly. He knew how easy his friend was to anger.

“What has she seen?” Anthony pressed him, teeth clenched.

Simon took a deep breath. “She has seen them touching. More than would be appropriate. On more than one occasion.”

Anthony’s eyes went wide, his nostrils flared. “Unbelievable.”

Hoping to avoid a public outburst, Simon tried to calm him. “Come now, Bridgerton. He’s a man. Let him have his fun.”

Anthony’s jaw locked, telegraphing his aggravation. “True, we all have our fun wherever we find it. But it remains unbecoming of a gentleman to flaunt it in one’s own house.” His eyes darted to ensure no one could overhear them. He leaned closer, hissing. “I knew he was…eccentric, but I didn’t think his tastes would extend to the help.”

Simon rolled his eyes, knowing this was a far lesser scandal than many they had faced together. Such as the one where they found themselves on opposite ends of dueling pistols. “I didn’t mean to sour your mood, I only wanted to keep you informed.”

Hands on his hips, Anthony steamed for a moment before acknowledging that it was neither the time nor place to address the matter. In their new chapter as relations, Simon had developed a knack for dissipating the Viscount’s untimely frustrations.

Anthony clapped him on the shoulder. “And I’m grateful that you did. You are a true friend. Although, should I call you brother now?” He smirked.

The Duke pointed a wry but warning finger. “Don’t push your luck, Bridgerton.”

___ After three glasses of champagne, two hours of inane conversation, and one good-natured turn with his mother across the dance floor, Benedict had endured about all he could take of the ball. While he has happy for his family that everyone was enjoying themselves, his heart was not in the event. Indeed, it felt somewhere else entirely. As he mumbled pleasantries with the same tired acquaintances and ducked around corners to avoid the fawning advances of Miss Dolores Stowell, he began to wonder what exactly the point of his attendance at such events was anymore. His peers were all there to ostensibly find their spouses and their elders were there to supervise the chase. But he would not find his wife in that ballroom or any other. 

The lady in silver was long vanished and even the memory of her was starting to feel as insubstantial as gossamer. For how long could he keep searching in vain? For how long could he pin all hope on an imagined future with her? One full of the passion, happiness and companionship he longed for? Then Sophie flashed in his mind and he wondered if he was truly longing anymore. Thoughts swimming, he snuck unnoticed out of the ballroom and made his way to a secluded spot where he could think undisturbed. The portico roof over the front doors of Aubrey Hall rested just beneath an array of windows that one could easily climb through and drop out of sight as they sat with a panoramic view of the grounds. It had become a secret, almost sacred place for both heartfelt conversation and mischief which he had only shared with Colin and Eloise, the latter of whom he was surprised to see had beat him to the punch and was sat on a corner of the roof, smoking.

She looked up in alarm as he clambered out of the window and dropped beside her, but on recognition she smiled and wordlessly offered him her cigarette. He took a drag, settling beside her, the two of them staring out at the parade of carriages in the drive and the shadowed hills of the lawn beyond. The stars were bright and the air was peaceful, a stillness in sharp contrast to what Benedict felt within.

Eloise smirked at him. “No one catching your eye, brother?”

He handed back the cigarette and took note of her appearance. It was still odd for him to see his little sister grown and out in society. In his mind she would always be stubborn little El, smudged in dirt and tromping around with a slingshot in hand and one of Colin’s hand-me-down caps. But here in her gown and jewels with her hair pinned beautifully, she rivaled the elegance of every young lady within. 

“I should ask you the same. I’m surprised the men aren’t falling all over themselves to dance with you. You look very lovely tonight.”

She smiled, straightening a bit. “It’s all thanks to the new maid, Miss Beckett. I like her very much.”

He felt the heat rise to his cheeks and the grin that broke across his face was entirely too large and entirely uncontrollable. Perhaps his sister wouldn’t see it in the low light, but his hopes were dashed.

“Benedict?” She studied him, cajoling. “You apparently like her too.”

He swallowed, speaking the truth aloud for the first time. “I do.”

He was surprised to find that he was not nervous about dropping his ruse. Not around Eloise. If there was anyone in the family he could be honest with, it was her. While they had always been close throughout their childhoods, it was when they confessed their shared disdain for the confines of society that the bedrock of their adult relationship had been formed. Whether on the swings in the garden of Bridgerton House or here on the portico roof of Aubrey Hall, they confided in one another about their desires and their struggles. Sometimes explicitly but more often simply through a silent, innate sense for when the other needed support and they never failed to provide it, in blanket sentiments or merely in physical presence. Benedict had escorted Eloise to many a ball she did not wish to attend and had pulled her briskly from the orbit of unsavory suitors. He had sat outside her bedroom door to stave off reprimands after Lady Whistledown had exposed her unsanctioned visits to political rallies and brought scandal down upon her head. After he had left the Royal Academy in shame, fresh sketchbooks, charcoals and paints continued to appear on the desk of his bedroom though he had not purchased them. And when he sulked in heartbreak and frustration for months after losing the lady in silver, Eloise would prod him for walks in the sunshine or games of chess, anything to keep his mind off of his pain without ever ridiculing his behavior, while the rest of his family were convinced he had gone mad. If anyone would champion his pursuit of happiness despite the risks it incurred, it would be Eloise.

True to her character, she did not blink at his confessing attraction to a servant, but she did keep his feet rooted on the ground. “Be careful there. I can only imagine what the family would say about a dalliance with a maid.”

She was right, of course. If his family were to find out and reproach him, it would be easy enough to terminate a frolic that was just for the fun of it all. And yet, as he quested through his feelings, the odd sensation in his chest affirmed that he could not walk away from Sophie so easily. He was approaching something. Something he knew the name of but could not yet admit, not even to himself. But he knew it would rise to the surface soon enough.

“I don’t know if it’s a dalliance, El.”

“What?”

He twisted his fingers as he sought for the words. “A part of me feels…I don’t know. Happier than I have felt in years.”

Eloise was quiet for a moment and then bluntly asked him the question he could not pose to himself. “You’re finally ready to give up on your lady in silver, then? For a servant?”

Her shimmering image rose in his mind, smiling coyly. He’d spent the last two years with one eye on every door, always waiting for her to enter the room. He felt silly sometimes, even stupid, but he’d never been able to erase her from his thoughts. Or purge the dream - the one in which he pledged his troth to her, and they lived happily ever after. It was a silly fantasy for a man of his reputation, sickly sweet and sentimental, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. That’s what came from growing up in a large and loving family - one tended to want the same for oneself. But the woman from the masquerade had become barely more than a mirage. Hell, he didn’t even know her name. 

“Maybe,” he exhaled, feeling a barrier begin to crumble. “She is at least here. I can see her and talk to her and I know who she is. But I also know what a scandal it would all cause.”

Then he tried to envision a future with Sophie. A life with her would be different from the picture of familial bliss he had imagined, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t forge their own kind of happiness. He couldn’t marry her, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be together. It would mean compromise, but they could do it. And they’d certainly be happier than if they remained apart.

“So what are you going to do?” Eloise asked.

Benedict’s eyes darted over the horizon, dozens of possibilities tumbling through his mind. Anxious, joyful, heartbreaking, ecstatic.

“I don’t know yet.”

His sister rested a hand on his shoulder and gave him a light squeeze before she stood, dropped her cigarette and stubbed it out with her toe. She brushed off her dress and smoothed her hair, then looked down at him. 

“A word of advice. Don’t fear what others may think. When you find someone, whoever that person is and wherever they come from, if you feel drawn to them, hold onto that feeling. Nurture it. You are a man, and I dare say it would be easier for you to get away with than me. So do it. Live your life and don’t give a damn about society.” 

Then the fire drained from her voice as it became shaky with emotion. “It’s something I wish I had done long ago.”

Turning on her heel, she pulled herself back into the house through the open window and left Benedict alone in the night air, contending with his thoughts.

Marching back through the halls, Eloise wiped a tear from her cheek as her mind replayed her own flirtation with a different life. One that would have been harder, but also simpler than the one she was born into. A life of action and activism. A life of work but fulfillment. A life as the wife of a printer, filled with literature and love.

Any chance at that life had been dashed not only by her own fear of pursuing it, but by the acid pen of Lady Whistledown who had exposed her unchaperoned excursions and scandalized her family. That had been the hammerblow of certainty that if a young lady were to step one toe out of line from society’s expectations, woe would befall her. So ever since, Eloise had done her best to content herself within her gilded cage, waiting for the day when she would either be old enough to break free without censure or meet the man who miraculously defied her abysmal appraisal of his sex.

This was her destiny, one that must find her. But with Benedict able to navigate society more freely due both to his charismatic nature and his gender, surely he had a much greater chance of defining destiny on his terms. She would never forget how dejected he had been after the masquerade ball where he alleged to have met the love of his life. As he quested for her in the months that followed, Eloise watched the light of humor and charm that she so loved in him grow dimmer and dimmer until it almost seemed extinguished. But in recent days it had undeniably returned and she felt as if she had the old Benedict back. If Sophie was the cause of this change, then she would do everything in her power to support their secret romance.

Stopping in front of a mirror she dabbed her eyes, set her resolve, and returned to the ballroom.

“Kate!” 

The Viscountess stood near a throng of mamas, graciously accepting their compliments for the hostess. Wrapped in a shimmering sari of ombre blue and purple, she matched both the colors and grandeur of the decor perfectly. 

“Are you enjoying the evening, Eloise?” She smiled as she turned to her sister-in-law.

Adopting a cheery tone, the younger exaggerated a smile. “Oh yes, my dance card is full.” She shook the card on her wrist rapidly, trying to obscure the fact that she herself had penciled in all the names, including Robert Burns and George Washington. Clasping her hands behind her back, she continued. 

“I’ve met so, so many wonderful bachelors tonight, thank you. I am here to ask you a favor.”

“Yes?”

“My temporary lady’s maid, Miss Sophie Beckett. I have grown quite fond of her and she is very skilled, as you can see.” She pointed proudly to her bejeweled coiffure. “Can I ask that she accompany us back to London? I know that the other maid will return, but she can take care of Francesca and Hyacinth.”

The Viscountess balked, stunned to hear Eloise express any praise for a lady’s maid, let alone the request to retain one permanently. Her sister-in-law was single-handedly the cause of the majority of staff turnover for the Bridgerton household. Whatever magic Sophie Beckett possessed, she was now determined to secure it for as long as possible. 

“If you both desire it, yes, we can take her on in London.”

Eloise beamed with excitement. “Thank you!”

Returning her smile, Kate wondered how far she could push her luck. “Now, would you like to meet Lord Gloucester? He is…”

“No!” Eloise nearly leapt away from her like a cornered animal. “Sorry, I’m incredibly parched. I must get a glass of lemonade.” Waving her off, she nodded her thanks once again and then disappeared into the crowd.

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 @sincere-sarcasm @kmc198n @makaylan @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @alexandrainlove @chase-your-dreams-away

[crazypsychonerdstuff]

If it's not too much to ask, can I get some soft headcanons or a oneshot for Cutler Beckett where he's really needy and clingy? That man seems to me like he'd act all cold and emotionless and deny his feelings for so long, but eventually just crack and be really clingy and so, so touch starved. 🥺🥺🥺

So. I was going to do this as just a few headcanons as I didn't realise I had so many ideas for him, but they sort of developed a life of their own and ran off on a bit of a tangent to where I originally intended, and in doing so, ended up being more of a bulletpointed oneshot at the start and then trailed off into more normal headcanons afterwards.

So here you go, Anon! One bulletpoint... whatever it is!

🎃

It would take something pretty major happening for him to initially open up to you, most likely one of you getting severely injured/sick and almost dying. More accurately, you almost dying.

He will refuse to leave your side then. Anyone coming to take care of you, nurses, doctors etc will only see the cold, emotionless front, and gods help them if they do something he deems detrimental to your recovery.

But when they've left, his icy facade melts a little. He'll sit beside you, hold your hand, brush your hair out of your face, anything so long as he's close to you.

He's confused. He doesn't understand these feelings he has at all, they are not practical in the slightest, they're more of a hindrance than anything. though he decides to just roll with it and do what feels right in the moment.

When you're feeling a little better, you'll tease him about how he's acting, which he'll deny completely. Or at least until you kiss his cheek and thank him for staying with you.

Cue an adorably embarrassed, blushing Cutler who, for once in his life, is at a complete loss for words. He stutters a little, trying to phrase an intelligible sentence but ends up going silent once more and averting his gaze before whispering "I think I may be in love with you." Inaudible, if the room hadn't been so otherwise quite.

You smile softly and gently squeeze his hand "and I you."

His attention snaps back to you, a stunned look on his face; eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

You giggle and lean forward slightly, hesitantly, though when he doesn't pull back or push you away, you close the gap and kiss him.

To your surprise, contrary to what you had expected due to his cold, cruel persona, his lips were warm and so, so soft and you wanted nothing more than to just melt into him then and there. But you restrained yourself, you didn't want to scare him away, after all.

Though you needn't have worried, the moment you go to pull back, his hand reached to the back of your neck and pulled you in once more, his lips finding yours again as his arms come to wrap around you, holding onto you desperately as if he were afraid you'd vanish from infront of him if he let go.

And that was that. The wall that he'd built up over many years was finally broken down. Well, at least for you. there was no turning back now, he'd shown you how weak he could be and honestly, he liked it. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from him and he wanted nothing more than to remain in your embrace forever, despite the impracticality of it all.

From then on, he was yours. He'd do just about anything if it meant ending up in your arms.

Though never in public. If there was even the slightest chance that you two might be seen, then he was back to completely emotionless once more... at least until he was certain the two of you were alone again, then he'd resume where he left off.

He's always struggled with sleep, but since you've become a pretty much permanent fixture in his life, his sleep has much improved.

A large part of why he doesn't sleep is nightmares, usually about his past.

Most nights, He will curl into you, his head on your chest, his arms around your waist and his legs tangled with your own, this way he feels safe and the nightmares are greatly reduced. Though some nights, he wants to be the one holding you, in which case he'll most likely pull you against himself with your back to his chest and his face buried in your hair.

Running your fingers through his hair is something he finds really relaxing too and he'll lean into you in silent encouragement to continue.

Did I mention he loves resting his head on your chest? Because he does and will do any chance he gets.

when the two of you are alone in the evenings, he enjoys lying with his head in your lap while the two of you talk about the day.

If you play with his hair, he will likely find himself drifting off to sleep, so be prepared to be trapped there a while while he naps. Well, unless you want to wake him so the two of you can go to bed, but it would be a shame really, what with him looking so peaceful for once.

When he's in need of affection, he won't say much really as he's somewhat embarrassed about appearing pathetic and/or weak, so he'll let his actions speak for him instead, though he will always be careful not to push things too far:

for example if he wants a hug, he'll either rest his head against your shoulder and allow you to initiate further contact or rest his hand on your back and press himself to your side and wait for you to turn to him before he'll wrap his arms around you.

The exception to this rule is when he comes up behind you, then he'll wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzle into your neck or back or depending on how tall you are – or if you are sat down – (I mean, he's not the tallest guy by any means... smol grumpy bean) will rest his chin on your shoulder.

If he wants kisses, it's all or nothing:

Either he'll just blankly look at you, his eyes lingering on your lips until you call him out on it and ask if he wants a kiss, in which case, the proceeding kisses will be soft, slow and full of adoration,

Or he'll grab you and kiss you roughly with no warning, desperation evident in his actions as he holds onto you tightly. If this is the case, expect him to be somewhat embarrassed when he does pull away and apologise profusely for his lack of restraint.

In which case, the best response would be to grab him and give him an equally rough, passionate kiss as, even if you tried to reassure him verbally that it was fine, he likely wouldn't believe you, and he will be beating himself up for acting so impulsively likely for days.

I'm going to leave it there... for now... it's getting a little out of hand!

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Waiting Gen 1 pt.91

20 excruciating minutes later the ambulance slowed to a stop. Kason heard muffled voices outside. The doors on both sides slammed and shook the truck before the backdoors were flung open. EMTs and doctors flooded the cramped space. They shifted Mercury quickly, careful not to disrupt her oxygen mask as they extracted her.

Kason stumbled from the back trying to keep up, the parking lot was overrun with reporters and police. The blinding flash from the dozen or more cameras disoriented him for a moment leaving bright colored spots in his vision when he blinked. He turned his back to the chaos using his frame to block Mercury from the camera as best he could. His temper flared again, but he didn't latch onto the newly familiar emotion, instead, he took a calming breath, keeping pace with the doctors.

Kason: [Fucking vultures] I’m right here M.

She hadn’t stirred once the entire ride. Finally, they got through the hospital doors. The white walls were blinding, the air was too cold, and it smelled sterile with a faint hint of copper. As they hurried down a short corridor Kason answered questions he couldn’t remember being asked. The only phrases that bounced around his mind were "O.R" and "How much blood lost?"

When they reached the end of the hall it veered off in two directions. Ahead was a set of double doors, to the left was another corridor that led to the pediatrics ward. The doctors continued through the double doors that appeared to lead into a longer hallway, but this one had rooms off to each side.

As a doctor intercepted his path, Kason spotted Spirit and the kids turning down the left corridor. A sliver of relief flowed through him as he watched Venus walk. It appeared the limp had been merely a superficial wound. The relief was short-lived when he noticed the doctor’s sympathetic demeanor. She schooled her expression to soften the news.

Doctor: Mr.Gratz you’ll have to wait here. You aren’t allowed back there. We will do everything we can for your wife. She's in good hands.

Kason relented, knowing arguing would get him nowhere, aside from being thrown out. He watched until Mercury's stretcher was out of sight, and then he went to find an empty bench in the waiting room.

An hour passed as he sat restlessly waiting for news. Spirit had called him when the pediatrician arrived to keep him updated on the kids and he’d contacted everyone he thought needed to be informed of the situation. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Another half hour without a doctor update had him on edge. He’d bitten his nails down to the numb when a pair of white tennis shoes appeared in this vision.

Peyton: Kason.

Peyton's voice captured his attention and Kason raised his head slowly rendering Peyton speechless. He hadn't seen Kason cry since the day their father passed away when they were merely teens. His brother's swollen eyes and tear-streaked face pulled him back to that dreadful day in the hospital where their father, Patrick Gratz, had taken his last breath.

Kason looked exhausted. His face was bright red and somehow he looked older. His green irises were drowning in unshed tears. Peyton dragged his brother to his feet without a word pulling him into a sheath-like embrace. Peyton felt Kason's heart pounding against his own chest and held him a little tighter.

Peyton winced, Kason's fingers burrowed deep into his back, clutching Peyton's shirt like a life raft to a sim with aqua-phobia. They stood like that for a while. Peyton wasn't concerned about the onlookers as Kason's shoulders shook violently. He felt Kason's knees give out a few times as he wept, but Peyton held his brother securely.

Peyton: I got you bro, It's okay. It's okay.

When Kason's cries calmed, Peyton stepped back. His phone chimed notifying him he had a text. He checked the message as he asked.

Peyton: Better?

Kason nodded unsure his voice would work.

Peyton: That was Winter she's almost here. She and Beckett dropped Zohreh off with Rufus's parents. I came straight here.

Kason swallowed to moisten his cotton mouth, it felt like barbed wire scraping sandpaper, before attempting to speak.

Kason: Peyton.. I messed up. I couldn't stop her. I didn't protect them...

Peyton pushed Kason back down onto the bench.

Peyton: Calm down. We all know this isn't your fault. The bitch is a psycho. No one could have known she wou-

Ishtar: Hi Uncle Peyton. Dad, Nana said the doctor is finished.

Peyton glanced at Kason, then turned his attention to Ishtar.

Peyton: Come on Ish, I'll go with you, while Dad stays here and waits for Auntie Winter and Uncle Beckett okay?

He pulled his nephew in for a hug.

Peyton: Lead the way.

As they walked passed Peyton whispered.

Peyton: I'll handle this. Wait for news about M. And Kason, it's not your fault.

They'd gotten a small distance away when Kason overheard Ishtar ask Peyton.

Ishtar: Is my dad going to be okay? He looks really sad. Maybe we should stay with him so he's not all by himself.

Peyton: You're such a good guy Ish. Your Dad is sad, he's sad that you guys were hurt and he just needs a couple minutes to himself. Don't worry your dad...

But soon they were out of earshot and he couldn't catch the end of the statement.

Kason sat statue-like in the same place Peyton had left him 20 minutes earlier, still, no one had come out to update him about Mercury's condition. Winter and Beckett had shown up not long after Peyton had gone to check in with Spirit, they sat with him, but he couldn't handle their questions and when they'd finally realized he was in no position to converse with them they resorted to concerned glances and hushed whispers before he eventually sent them to search for the triplets. His nerves were worn thin when he decided to find a doctor and demand answers.

???: Kason Gratz?

Kason flinched at the sound of his name. He glanced at the newcomer, taking in his loafers, the suspenders over his shoulders, and most importantly the badge he wore, displayed proudly on his waist.

Kason: Yeah.

Det. Hana: Detective Kane Hana. I was hoping we could chat for a moment.

Kason: I need to be here in case the doctors come out.

Kason dismissed him. He knew he had a duty to speak to the police but the stress of waiting had made him irritable.

Det. Hana: We don't need to go far. Just an area more private. I can grab us coffee and we can talk.

Kason didn't bother making eye contact, he couldn't muster the energy to use proper conversation etiquette and for the moment he didn’t care.

Det. Hana: We can talk here or down at the station, but it's your choice.

Detective Hana had his full attention after that quip.

Kason: For what? I haven't done anything.

Detective Hana lazily tucked his hand back in his pocket as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Det. Hana: Not yet you haven't, but refusing to speak with the police actively hinders the investigation, and THAT is obstruction of justice, Mr.Gratz. I was told, you requested that we take your statement at the hospital, or was I misinformed by the responding officer?

Detective Hana had a cocky disposition, like the kind of guy who would arrest someone for looking at him funny. Kason desperately wanted to tell Hana to fuck off but he didn't want to give him a reason to through around his authority which, he seemed desperate to do.

Kason: [Sigh] Yes, but I'd hoped it would take you guys a bit longer. We can sit in the corner by the windows, but the minute a doctor comes out with news-

Det. Hana: Were on the same page here. If a doctor comes out we can finish another day. We just need to wait for my partner. Here he comes now. Alder over here!

Kason turned to see Officer Alder ambling over. Surprisingly seeing the familiar face calmed him a little. Officer Adler was a decent man who had proven he understood the sensitive nature of the situation.

OCF Adler: Yeah, yeah Kane, I'm coming. Mr.Gratz.

He nodded in Kason's direction with a sad smile. Kason nodded back in acknowledgment.

Kason: Can we get on with it, and I believe you offered to get coffee.

Hana’s mouth quirked at the corners.

Det. Hana: Black or cream and sugar princess?

Kason: Black one sugar.

Det. Hana: Good. I'll grab the coffee, and you grab a seat.

Previous Next

Beginning

Detective Kane Hana can be found on the Gallery (no cc). created by Witching_Mermaid

[la-femme-au-collier-vert]

IWTV Season 2 Sources & References

Cited by the Writer’s Room/Cast:

The Ethnic Avante-Garde: Minority Cultures and World Revolution by Steven S. Lee

Paris Journal 1944-1955 by Janet Flanner (Genet)

The Vampire: A Casebook by Alan Dundes

Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles: An Alphabettery

The Fly cited by Jacob Anderson

King Lear by Shakespeare cited by Rolin Jones

The Third Man (1949) cited by Levan Akin

An American in Paris by George Gershwin (1928) cited by Daniel Hart

Giovanni’s Room cited by Jacob Anderson

References:

Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin

Sebastien Melmoth by Oscar Wilde

Ode to a Nightingale by Keats

Amadeus (1984)

The Lost Boys (1987)

Gaslight (1944)

Batman

Casablanca (1942)

Now, Voyager (1942)

Moulin Rouge (2001)

The Phantom of the Opera

Les Vampires (1915)

Dracula (1931) credit to @vampchronicles_ on twt

Le Triomphe de L’amour by Pierre de Marivaux

Existentialism is a Humanism by Jean Paul Sartre

Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos

Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

Vampire’s Kiss (1988) credit to @talesfromthecrypts

Les Morts ont tous le Meme Peau by Boris Vian credit to @greedandenby

The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell

Waiting for Godot by Samuel Barclay Beckett credit to @rorscachisgay on twt

An Enemy of the People by Ibsen

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Vie de Voltaire by Marquis Condorcet

Simone de Beauvoir: A Critical Introduction by Edward Fullbrook and Kate Fullbrook credit to @iwtvfanevents

Nightwood by Djuna Barnes credit to @iwtvfanevents

Beloved by Toni Morrison

Artists, Art, and Salons:

R-26

Palma Vecchio

Andre Fougeron

Elsa Triollet

Fred Stein

Lisette Model

Gordon Parks

Miguel Barcelo

Taxidermied Javelina by Chris Roberts-Antieau

Ai WeiWei (wallpaper)

David Hockney (Lemons)

Wols 

The Kiss of Judas by Jakob Smits

Salome by Louis Icart

Ophelia by John Everett Millais

Shelter by Peter Macon

The Kiss by Edvard Munch

The Vampire or Love and Pain by Edvard Munch credit @iwtvasart

Ruiter on Horse by Reiger Stolk credit @ iwtvasart

Portrait of Frank Burty Haviland by Modigliani credit @iwtvasart

Self-Seers II (Death and Man) by Egon Schiele credit to @90sgreggaraki

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters by Goya

Aicha by Felix Vallotton

Cariatide by Modigliani

Nature Morte Au Pain Et Au Cocteau by Louis Marcoussis

Untitled by Julio Gonzalez

Embrace by Mikulas Galanda

Trees on a Mountain Slope by Ernst Kirchner

Landscape Paris by Henry Lyman Sayen

Tabac 56 by Oscar Garcia

Spirituals by Lillian Richter Reynolds

Movie & Play Posters on set (in chronological order by year):

Tarzan and his Mate (1934)

Avec le Sourire (1936)

Les Deux Gosses (1936)

Le Jour Se Leve (1939) about a man who commits murder as a result of a love triangle and locks himself in his apartment recounting the details as the police attempt to arrest him. Credit to @laisofhyccara

Nuit de Décembre (1940)

Mademoiselle Swing (1942) about a girl who follows a troupe of swing musicians to Paris.

Les Enfents du Paradis (1945) about a woman with many suitors including an actor and an aristocrat.

Fantomas (1946) about a sadistic criminal mastermind. This version includes a hideout in the catacombs where he traps people.

Quai des Orfevres (1947) watch here

Monsieur Vincent (1947)

Le Cafe du Cadran (1947) about a wife’s affair with a violinist.

La Kermesse Rouge (1947) film about a jealous artist who locks up his younger wife and a fire breaks out while she’s trapped.

Morts Sans Sepulture by Jean-Paul Sartre (play) also published in English translations as “The Victors” or “Men Without Shadows” about resistance fighters captured by Vichy soldiers struggling not to give up information.

Mon Faust by Paul Valery (play)

Musical Influences:: @greedandenby collected all music used in Season 2 here.

Henry Cowell

Meredith Monk

Howling’ Wolf

Shirley Temple

Jason Lindner Big Band

The Teeth

Carlos Salzedo

Alice Coltrane

Thelonius Monk

David Lang

Caroline Shaw

Gadfly by Shostakovich (for Raglan James)

musical career of Martha Argerich

Season 1 here (these lists are updated regularly)

Season 3 here

[ryttu3k]

You may have answered this already but, what VTM clans would you asign to the dracula polycule?

Ohh, great question! Let's see!

I think for the sake of a more thorough analysis, I'm actually going to ignore VtM canon, since Dracula actually is a canon character who encouraged Bram Stoker to write a fictionalised version of his adventures. He has a signed first edition copy that Beckett sees. It's kinda hilarious.

In VtM canon, he's the 5th generation childe of Lambach Ruthven and has a host of disciplines at very high levels (seriously - Animalism 6, Auspex 5, Celerity 4, Dominate 5, Fortitude 5, Koldunic Sorcery 5 (with Earth, Fire, and Spirit all at 5), Potence 5, Protean 4, and Vicissitude 5). Hilariously, this means he actually doesn't have Mist Form, since that's Protean 5. Lucy and Mina are/were Tzimisce as well (Lucy dies, Mina survives to modern nights), Renfield was a ghoul. But let's adapt straight from the novel instead!

Dracula: I mean, obviously he's still Tzimisce, the clan is literally based on him. If we're just going off the novel, I see him more as Old Clan, the archetypal Voivode (also literally Voivode, that was Vlad Țepeș' literal title, he was Voivode of Wallachia - hilariously, he had no association with Transylvania other than being born in Sighișoara up until Stoker's book). He has the soil association, he clearly has Auspex and Animalism, and I feel he uses Dominate a fair bit, especially in the context of memory erasure, luring Lucy, et cetera. He also shows clear signs of Protean (Shape of the Beast bat and wolf forms, Mist Form), but, notably, not Vicissitude proper, and some alternate magical abilities, especially weather/fog manipulation, which can tie in with Koldunic sorcery, especially Way of Wind. So, a straight adaptation would be Old Clan Tzimisce with Koldunic sorcery and Protean. He also has the Folkloric Bane flaw where he takes agg damage from running water, and we'll ignore the sunlight thing XD;;

Jonathan: If we're directly adapting from the novel, then Dracula is the one who Embraces Jonathan, Mina, and Lucy. By default, that makes them all Tzimisce. Using my homebrew because I have no shame, his bane and connection to Home would be to Mina (yeah, he was having a rough time until their reunion). I do think Tzimisce could work well for him, he's a fairly fluid character and exemplifies Change more than any other character in the novel. Even if he was Embraced as technically Old Clan, I like the idea of spontaneous emergence of Vicissitude - and lo, a sudden change of hair colour!

Mina: Also Tzimisce; again, it's a fairly good fit. She and Jonathan share a mutual blood bond, too. Her Home is Jonathan, but she also has a secondary connection to trains and railways, and can avoid the aggravated Willpower damage by riding the rails. She would fit it well as well; like Jonathan, she's a fluid, adaptable character.

Lucy: Poor, poor Lucy! Definitely Embraced as Tzimisce, definitely not a great fit. I feel she'd be a much more natural fit for Toreador, with a love for beauty and a strong connection to humanity and people. She just wants to spend time with her coterie ;_;

Jack: Okay, two options here. One is Malkavian, often found in mental health settings - I'm thinking of Richard Dunham here specifically, but also Netchurch (even if the latter is more focused on physiology). He'd have a more subtle derangement, I think - possible OCD, definitely depression. The other option is Tremere, and I think that might be the better fit. He likes an Experiment. He would have so much fun with Thaumaturgy :D (Slightly terrified :D !)

Arthur: Man's one of the few valid Ventrue. Nobility? Check. Money? Check. He's quite aware of his privilege and considers it an honour and a duty to look after his coterie, even if he recognises that, lbr, Mina is really the one running the show. Also has out-of-clan Animalism so he can chat to his dogs, thanks to…

Quincey: Gangrel! Like yes he is absolutely playing up the Cowboy Thing to make Lucy smile so that could be a Toreador thing, but he does genuinely still fit it even after her death. He has an understanding with horses and bats, and bats do not act like that tyvm.

Van Helsing: He's Jack's sire (therefore Tremere) and Jack has never, ever gotten over the brief blood bond they shared. They have. A dynamic :D (No genuinely the sire-childe thing actually works really well here for their simultaneous familial and psychosexual relationship.)

Renfield: If we're going straight canon, he's a ghoul. If we actually give him a clan, there are also two possible options here! One is Malkavian - he's definitely got a derangement or two. The other, of course, is Nagaraja, although I'm actually feeling Malkavian here moreso than Nagaraja. He doesn't need to eat flesh, he just… has that fixation with it. Either way, I feel he has a blood bond to Dracula. Like that bit is 100% whether he's a ghoul or a Cainite. Hashtag Renfield deserves better!

[storyofmychoices]

Tuneless Wonders

[Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle Masterlist] 

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle (F!MC) Book: The Elementalists Word Count: >600 Rating/Warnings: general, no warnings, all the fluff Prompts: @choicesjanuary2024 aurora (borealis); @choicesficwriterscreations

Synopsis: Emma shows Beckett that the tuneless world has magic of its own.

It has been FAR too long since I've commissioned art of these two. So I am very excited to have been able to commission this piece by the ever talented ArtByAinna (IG) to kick off our TE @choicesbookclub

The vibrant hues of the aurora borealis painted the sky in a mesmerizing dance of celestial colors. Beckett and Emma found themselves at a secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of their friends. The ethereal lights shimmered overhead, casting a magical glow upon the landscape.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Emma teased, lacing her fingers with his as she rested her head on his shoulder. “The tuneless world has its own magic.”

Beckett couldn’t help but be captivated by the enchanting display painting the sky. “Wow,” the only word he could manage slipped quietly from his lips, his gaze fixed on the celestial wonder above.

Emma’s eyes sparkled with a blend of awe and admiration. “Nature's magic is unparalleled. Earth has her own set of spells that she blesses us with."

A surge of appreciation for a magic he had never considered before washed over him. Beckett had read of this natural event in books, of course, but he never imagined them quite like this. In his readings, it was simple. It was science, just a bit of chemistry—an interaction of particles, solar wind, and the Earth’s magnetic field—nothing special. Yet, the reality of what he thought nothing of, now, left him breathless.

Emma’s words continued to resonate with him as he stood entranced. He couldn’t deny the magnificent enchantment surrounding them. He slowly breathed in the cold air, letting it fill his lungs, the moment overwhelming him in the best way. As he exhaled, Beckett attempted to let go of the complexities of magical academia he had spent his life mastering, allowing room for this new appreciation for the tuneless wonders he never would have understood without her.

“It’s breathtaking,” he whispered, his words of reverence drifting from his lips in wisps of warmth against the cold air.

Emma’s gaze met his cool, grey eyes, which shimmered with the colors of the heavens. “Perhaps nature’s magic is the truest form. No spells, no textbooks—just the raw, untamed beauty of the world. Maybe that’s where it all started. Maybe this and other examples of Earth’s magic is the origin of all other magick we know.”

“Thank you.” His fingers brushed tenderly across her cheek as he cradled her face.

“For what?” She smiled softly.

“For sharing this with me—” he began, his gaze drifting once more to the beautiful dance above them. "—for convincing me that there are wonders and magic I still don't understand—" His words were quieter now, “—and... for being smarter than me.”

“What was that?” Emma’s brow quirked with mischief. "I couldn’t quite hear you—"

“You heard me well enough.”

She considered it for a moment. “I think I heard you say I was smarter than you—the one and only, Beckett Harrington. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” She rested the back of her hand against his forehead.

He shook his head. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Well, if you want me to stop, you know what you have to do.” She grabbed the lapel of his navy peacoat, pulling him closer, their noses brushing together.

His freckled cheeks flushed at her gesture. “You’re impossible.” Beckett’s words were lost as he closed the gap between them. As their lips met, the warmth of her kiss seeped deep into him, a radiant glow that warmed him inside and out, like the gentle embrace of the soothing sun on a cold winters day.

The celestial lights above bore witness to their kiss, a moment of pure magic that rivaled the magic of this world and the magick of their studies.

I haven't written Beckett in... I honestly don't know how long 2, maybe 3??? years!?! I hope that our Book Club replay of TE will inspire some more Beckett and Emma stories. So far, I really only ever wrote them in my Detention Series.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

[suckeddry]

hi i’m sorry to send u beckett again like last anon but beckett and brujah who has mood swings + struggles to cope w being a vampire? in terms of how they interact reader would be kind of irritated and nosy towards him since he’d be nosy towards them.

The struggles of unlife

Brujah!Reader x Beckett

It has been a few months since your embrace. Thankfully, you got lucky and was found by a famous anthropologist sooner than a Sheriff of the local Camarilla. Now Beckett was an intelligent man, full of knowledge and wisdom. This however did not mean that he was the best teacher you could wish for. Beckett had his own problems and always put his research above anything else. Sometimes you could swear you were just part of some experiment, he didn't tell you about. Now he was not mean to you or tried to cause you harm but Beckett sometimes struggled with being empathetic to your own problems.It was just one of the moody nights where you were irritated even with the way someone breathed around you. And there he was sauntaring towards you, with a pile of papers. “Say, fledgling, would you say you youth were brought to have this constant need for entertainment or are you just slacking off?” Beckett looked at you, noticing the phone in your hand. Now with the way he said it, it was clear he just accidentally worded his question to sound like he was scolding you. Yet you were not in the mood to discuss with him what the youth was or was not brought to. The  silence and roll of the eyes seemed to confuse the Gangrel. “Well…I think it is a fair question, fledgling. I am just trying to understand the newer generation.” He hummed. You knew that he didn't mean harm but again he could sometimes be just so damn irritating. When he didn't get any answer from you again, he spoke. “Are you alright, fledgling? You seem very quiet tonight.” He looked at you through his tinted glasses, studying your face. “Was it normal to bother someone who doesn't want to speak with you in your times, Beckett?” He did not expect this answer. It was probably the first time you ever saw the scholar speechless. He tilted his head to the side, giving you an almost worried look. “Is there a problem between us, fledgling? Or are you just living the angry Brujah trope tonight?” It almost seemed that he was trying to lighten up the situation. But the punch you landed to the table in front of you wasn't exactly the reaction he had hoped for. “Fledgling, if you are not going to speak about your troubles I can't help you.” The Gangrel sounded now more irritated that you weren't cooperating with him. You nodded. “Even if I told you what was going on, you wouldn't listen again.” With this sentence Beckett seemed confused, was he not attentive enough? He did try to distract you with work. It always helps him. “I'll try to listen more.” The scholar sounded serious now, no jokes, no small quips. It took you by surprise. You nodded and started about what has been bothering you this whole time. From things like missing breathing and tasting your favorite ice cream, or how much you missed your close ones, to more philosophical thoughts about being damned and never belonging or being able to love again. Beckett sat quietly, taking everything in. Once you were finished, he gave you a soft smile. “I see. Well…I can't help you with that, fledgling.” He sighed. “Because of all the knowledge about the kindred existence. I too have not figured out how to tune out the feelings of loss and fear. I wish I could help you, but the only thing I can offer you is my company on these cold nights. So you don't have to feel alone in them.” You didn't realize you were crying, not until the gangrel scholar took you in a cold embrace and whipped away the bloody tears from your cheeks. AN: Heyyy, anon! I hope this is what you meant by this ask. And thank you for it. <3

[badass-at-fandoming]

Do you have any headcanons for Beckett? Specifically about his life as a mortal? It sucks that we know so little about his past, other than the fact that Beckett "wasn't the name he was born with," and that he was embraced in the early 1700s in England. I find it strange that we know so little about him despite the fact he's practically a mascot for VTM.

Hi Nonny! I'm so used that World of Darkness' lacuna that it doesn't seem strange to me anymore, but it is quite a cold-water shock, huh? The game designers leave blanks on purpose so we can fill them in. I remember this one interview with Justin Achilli where the interviewer said the Book of Nod was (forcibly) published in 1993 (same as irl). He corrected her and said, "No, no, you have to say it was published in the early 1990s, so any Storyteller can fit it into their '90s chronicle, like if they want to do an adventure to prevent or pursue its publication." His answer stuck with me. As a fan I was like "...why does it matter, let us have this fixed date" but as a writer/baby game dev I was like "OH, that is CLEVER." It leaves room for creativity! Any adventure can follow the meta-canon! That's such a good game design trick! As a fan I find it frustrating!

This game design principle sticks even to the mascot. I've seen stuff that Beckett was a pirate, a privateer, an Oxford scholar, and/or an attractive dying waif. @chinesegal was kind enough to ask me various Beckett backstory questions, that you can find here: bathing practice, opinions on creationism, trans experience. I'd also point you to @vampire-the-askerade for their delightful Beckett writings.

My only like, firm headcanon for Beckett is that he has to be kind enough to warn the fledgling in VtMB. If someone's interpretation of his character doesn't allow for that, my interest tanks. I'm not even totally married to the backstory in my fanfic and idle-thoughts-before-falling-asleep scenario. Those were all convenient pretexts for me to write cuddles and snuggles, haha. I'd love more kudos and comments on my fanfic if you read those stories, but below the cut is the bullet point version.

A Kinder Universe series drops hints of a possible backstory, especially "A Monastery Hides More Than Bones," "It Pleased the Lord," and "Forbidden by God and King."

Birth name is Matthew Lowell.

"Matthew" after the Christian Apostle. The Matthew of the Catholic Bible was a tax collector and therefore a pariah in society (just like Beckett is kinda like an outsider to Kindred Society). He was called to join Jesus out of a crowd (like Aristotle called Beckett out of the wild, or how Caine singles out Beckett during Gehenna). After Jesus's Ascension, Matthew wrote a Gospel, which translates to "good news," and spread it around, (like Beckett spreads his theories like "Good news, everyone! Gehenna is fake!). Matthew's Gospel is focused on how Jesus fulfills Hebrew prophecy and begins with a long genealogy connecting Jesus to King David (Beckett is obsessed with the genealogy of the Kindred race and studies/fulfills/collects prophecies).

"Lowell" is the Anglicized surname of Norman French "lou," which translates to "wolf." Beckett's dark brown, straight hair and white skin is a common coloring with French people. We don't know his original eye color, but blue would clinch the deal. There's a long history of migration between France and England, both of people and culture. It's in the realm of possibility he's of French descent, at least partially.

Born in Oxford. One of many siblings. Mother died in childbirth. Kid during the Great Plague of London in 1665-1666. Good father.

Attended one of the Oxford universities and got his doctorate in some sort of proto-anthropology.

I think I've talked about it before, but I have an Embrace fic idea an Embrace scenario I've thought about real hard before falling asleep.

Beckett has the same tombstone data as above. He teaches at his Oxford university, but is not very popular among his department peers. He's too into evidence and the scientific method, and he's constantly quarreling with his colleagues.

Aristotle and Anatole visit Oxford to set up a satellite library. Possibly they needed a break from Paris for some Kindred political reason.

Kindred brothel owner owes them a favor and lets them stay in the brothel while the duo sets up the library haven

Beckett visits this same brothel to let off steam, and he's gifted to Anatole as a blood doll for the night. Except Beckett is like, "Can I rant to you about how stupid my colleagues are?" and this leads to a genuine discussion of scholarship and, later, friendship

Beckett becomes Anatole's regular client, and Anatole proposes to Aristotle that Aristotle Embraces Beckett

Aristotle approaches the Prince of Oxford and something something Kindred politics and Cassandra Darby kill steals Beckett and dumps him in the forest

The two Noddists learn that Beckett has been Embraced, and they try to find him. Anatole is so distraught that he is Not Helping the search at all, so Aristotle sends him back to Paris. Aristotle keeps up the search and eventually finds and adopts a feral Beckett baby

Aristotle and Beckett rejoin Anatole in Paris. Anatole has regained his equilibrium and takes over Beckett's Kindred education.

Yeah! I hope that answered your question, Nonny. Thank you for the ask!

[hopepaigeturner]

The Coda

So, to summarise all these flashbacks serve numerous purposes...

Enable the audience to explain some of Sophie’s traumatic/learned behaviours. These include:

Her panic attacks e.g. @ My Cottage

Smothering her laughter/emotions with her hand

Why she doesn’t smile fully…

Where Sophie’s scars come from.

Audience become aware of negative/traumatic messaging embedded in Sophie.

“You make everyone miserable”-> AKA you destroy everything.

Constant need to be ‘silent’.

“You are the bastard child of a whore”-> undeserving of love and a lack of belonging.

Being undesirable-> everyone stepping away

“Remember this carefully, Sophie. In this world, bastards of noblemen and servants do not get dreams or a happily ever after. They get what they deserve—nothing.”

This in turn will help audiences empathise with Sophie about why she is so closed off, contribute to Sophie’s internal arc, and explain why she rejects Benedict’s proposal during my version of the sofa scene:

class difference + lack of feeling worthy of love=rejection.

But there is another, sweeter reason for establishing these traumatic messages/behaviours in Sophie... and that is to show how Benedict actively counters these.

Benedict always stepping towards Sophie.

“You make everyone miserable…”

Sophie’s absence makes Benedict miserable while her presence makes him shine. So much so that his family see a transformation of him back to the laid-back, joyful manner of before.

“You must be silent…”

Benedict saying in the kitchen of My Cottage “You never have to be silent, not on my account, never with me.”

Benedict’s words when he talked to Anthony: “I just want to hold her hand…I just want to listen to her voice. She is so wise and intriguing and inspiring...”

Benedict constantly removing Sophie’s hand from her mouth when she tries to smother a giggle, laugh or sob. (e.g. Swing scene)

 Benedict delighting in her reading poetry to him while sick and talking with her at My Cottage.

You are the bastard child of a whore”/ Feeling unworthy of love.

Benedict never addressing her as a ‘bastard’ but always as ‘illegitimate’ or ‘by-blow’. 

Benedict embracing her when she reveals the parts of her past so many have stepped away from. As he says in my version of the Sofa scene:

You are Sophie. You are a woman who is kind and compassionate even after a life of hardship that would bow or break even the strongest of men. You are a woman who stands by her convictions no matter how many people try and sway you, no matter how many lashes you endure or even if the other road is easier. You, Sophie Beckett, are brilliant, in mind, heart and soul. I am inspired by you; I am humbled by you, and I am honoured to be in your presence and awed by every facet of your being. That is who you are, Sophie.” His voice rasps slightly, as if he is on the edge of speechlessness. “That is who you are, Sophie.”

Benedict running into a prison, Bendict willing to get into conflict with his family and Benedict willing to give up everything because none of it is worth as much as her.

Her physical scars

In their love scenes, Benedict tenderly kissing over the scar on her neck and whispering:

“Your scars are beautiful because they are markings that you survived. Testaments to the strength you had to pull yourself through the burning trials of life and emerge with your heart blazing. That is why I call them beautiful.”

I’ve said before that the main people who ‘aid’ Sophie in the season should be women for Sophie’s plot is a great way to tell the story of how women together can enact change.

Meanwhile, Benedict will help Sophie emotionally. He will show her that he loves Sophie for who she is. He will show her that she is worth of love, and help her emotionally heal from her trauma. And these little moments, in contrast to the flashbacks, can show the audience how well the two suit.  

How these two are perfect for each other. And if they manage this well...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Masterlist

PREV

As always I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests!

So, check out the list here, for more of my ideas.

Or check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 here.

That's the end of the series! But stay tuned, as coming next week is my review of S3...all of it

[silverhallow]

Say you’ll remember me

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett

summary: a drabble for nothing and no real reason it’s more of a summary of a possible story than an actual story if that makes sense…

warnings: none

word count: 600 words

author's note: this isn’t my best work but it’s something my muse was playing with so I’m sharing

'Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.'

Their shared love for Shakespeare, literature, and art initially brought them together, evolving their friendship into a passionate romance marked by stolen kisses and secret rendezvous. What began as an inseparable bond now faced an impending separation, fueled by circumstances beyond their control.

Sophie and Benedict, once the closest of friends turned lovers, found themselves at a crossroads. Sophie's grandfather's passing in America led to a cascade of events, with Richard, her father, compelled to handle the estate. At just 16, Sophie had to accompany him, leaving behind her stepmother but at the cost of parting ways with Benedict.

While Sophie secured acceptance and scholarships at American colleges, but Benedict, with his artistic talents, chose not to follow. He believed she would stay if she got into a school in England. Communication broke down, so as the departure date loomed, they faced the reality of their separation.

Richard had everything organised, and the night before their departure became their last chance to create enduring memories. Benedict, yearning for escape, suggested leaving town and evading the city's constraints. However, the impracticality of such a plan became apparent, as neither could drive, and the forces pulling them apart seemed insurmountable.

As they approached the inevitable parting, neither fought hard to defy destiny. They understood that youth was fleeting, and although destiny and fate might still shape their narrative, they resigned themselves to the transient nature of their connection. Benedict knew that nothing lasts forever and after Sophie's departure, these memories would be the ones that would follow him around.

"Say you’ll remember me," she murmured as the sun began its ascent, the night spent together fading with the dawn. Her lips bore the stain of their kisses, and her rosy cheeks bore witness to the shared experiences that would linger in their minds forever.

In that one evening, they wove the tapestry of first love, first heartbreak, and first times—all condensed into a night that would become a cornerstone of their lives.

"say you'll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset," she whispered once more, feeling the embrace of his arms around her, both reluctant to release the other.

"I will, I'll always remember you," he vowed, sensing deep within that no one could compare to her. He hoped fate had a plan, a day when their paths would cross again.

"Promise me, you'll see me again, even if it's just in your wildest dreams," Sophie pleaded, craving something to anchor herself to.

"We will meet again, someday. The memories of tonight will reunite us, guiding us back to where we belong," he declared solemnly as the sun completed its final arc over the horizon, signalling the arrival of a new day.

"Say you'll remember me," they whispered as they parted, a solemn oath etched in their hearts.

Little did they know, ten years later, Sophie would find herself gazing at a painting capturing this very moment—a girl in a beautiful dress, staring at a sunset, titled "I'll Always Remember You."

As the words “I told you I’d remember you…” rang through her ears and her heart

Finally, her wildest dreams would transform into reality.

[castlewriterman]

Secret's Safe With Me (1/1)

This is a simple one shot story. I’m working my way through a Castle rewatch, and I got to the episode where Alexis moves into her dorm, and I felt like even though Castle and Beckett’s relationship was still relatively new, that there was still a missed opportunity to show her being there to support him the way he was so often there to support her. This fic fixes that.

Hope you guys enjoy this one! Feel free to drop me a message if you do!

I don’t own Castle…trust me, LokSat would NOT have happened if I did.

xxxxx

Beckett had made sure not to get involved in anything time-consuming that evening; she’d gone straight home after her shift was over. Sure, she knew she and Castle didn’t have plans because he was moving Alexis into her dorm, but she wanted to be available if he needed a little support that night, which she had suspected he might. He had talked with her about Alexis going to college, and she knew him well enough to know his little girl moving out into a dorm was hitting him harder than he was letting on.

He’d been her emotional support more times than she could count, and she wanted to be that for him now; though admittedly, she was going to be less pushy about it than he normally was. Or at least, she planned to be. She waited until she figured he’d at least be back at his loft before sending him a text to try to see how he was feeling.

You okay?

It was a simple text, but it would be enough for her to be able to gage where he fell on a scale of sad puppy to complete breakdown after dropping his daughter off.

No.

She received the text back quickly, and it was pretty much what she’d expected…definitely more than sad puppy. She’d known he wasn’t going to be okay, no matter how much he insisted he was. She waited several minutes to see if he was going to send her another message, maybe ask her to come over, or ask if he could come to her apartment. When he didn’t, she sighed and stood. Apparently, she was going to have to be a little pushy herself.

xxxxx

She knocked on the door to his loft, her overnight bag in one hand. She figured she wouldn’t be back at her apartment that night, and it might be rough for her to leave him early enough to get back to her place to get ready for work in the morning, and she couldn’t remember if she’d accidentally, on purpose left anything suitable to wear to work at his place or not.

“Katherine!” Martha greeted her when she opened the door with a smile.

“Hey Martha,” she returned the other woman’s smile with an almost shy one of her own. She was still getting used to the fact his mother knew about them being together. “How’s he doing?”

Martha stepped aside so Kate could come in, closing the door behind her. “You know, Richard…he’s upset but trying not to be upset for my sake, or for Alexis.”

Kate nodded with an understanding smile. “Where is he?”

“Brooding in his office. Perhaps you’ll have better results than I did,” she gestured back through the loft to his office.

Nodding again, Kate made the familiar walk through his apartment back toward his office. What she saw made her heart break for him. He was sitting at his desk, a mostly empty glass of Scotch on his desk as he caressed a picture of what she assumed was him and Alexis so carefully, like he was afraid he would break it. She placed her overnight bag on the couch in the room as she silently made her way over to his desk. As she got closer, she could tell he’d been crying, at least a little. “Hey…” she said softly, her fingers lightly caressing his neck before feathering through his hair soothingly.

He didn’t look at her yet, but his arm moved around her waist to pull her a little closer from his position in his chair. “My little girl is all grown up,” he said softly, his voice breaking just a little.

Her heart broke for him even more. “Yeah, she is,” she answered honestly. She turned his chair slightly then so he was facing her a little more. Stepping out of his embrace for a moment, she squatted down so that she could meet his eyes, her hands resting lightly on his thighs. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still need her dad. Alexis is smart…and you’ve done a great job with her. Now it’s time to let her spread her wings.”

His eyes met hers then. “And what if she falls?”

“Then you’ll be there to catch her,” she answered with a smile. “I promise you…a girl always needs her dad, no matter how grown up she thinks she is.” She gave his thighs a gentle squeeze before standing then and hugging him to her abdomen as he remained in his chair.

After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her shirt. “Thanks for coming over…I know I’m not going to be the best company tonight.”

She smiled slightly, her fingers soothingly stroking through his hair as she held him. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be tonight. I don’t want to just be around when you’re good company, you know; besides, you’ve been around me plenty of times when I’ve been miserable company,”

she pointed out, gently lifting his head so he’d see her smile.

He managed a small one for her. “It’s true…you were pretty miserable company when I had to pull you out of your bathtub, naked…despite the fact I was saving your life…”

She laughed softly, because of course that’s the moment he would immediately go back to. She would let him have it this evening, though, if that’s what he needed to smile. Leaning down, she placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Come on, I’ll make you some dinner.”

It took another moment, but he finally set the picture back on his desk and stood. He pulled her into his arms in a tight hug, which she returned just as tightly, trying to give him whatever strength and comfort she could tonight.

She waited for him to be the one to end the hug, willing to let him hold onto her as long as he needed. When he finally did release her, she placed a soft kiss to his lips before taking his hand and leading him back into the kitchen. She guided him to a stool at the kitchen island and had him sit, though she highly doubted he would stay there.

As she suspected, he didn’t sit still for long. She had only just opened the refrigerator door to check out what he had that she could use to make for dinner when she felt his hands on her hips, his chin resting on her shoulder as he peered inside as well. Gently nudging his head with her own, she found what she needed and grabbed it, before turning around and handing part of the items off to him so she could finish grabbing everything else.

Martha must have heard them because a few minutes later she had taken a seat at the kitchen island after pouring 3 glasses of wine. “Well, Katherine, you obviously have the magic touch with Richard…I’ll need to remember that for emergencies.”

Kate nearly choked on her drink of wine at Martha’s words. She was still a little self-conscious of being with him around his family. “Excuse me?” she stumbled over her words.

“I just mean that I tried since dropping Alexis off to cheer him up, and all I got was his brooding writer bit. Not even 20 minutes alone with you, and he’s at least not brooding anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I just pointed out that it doesn’t matter how grown up a girl gets, she’s always going to need her dad,” she smiled at him.

Castle returned her smile and dropped a soft kiss to her lips, causing Kate to both blush and take a large drink of her wine. She was going to need more alcohol to loosen up if he was going to want to keep touching her in front of his mother like that.

Kate didn’t stop him, though. As they made dinner, well mostly she made dinner, Castle couldn’t

stop touching her in some way, whether it was pressing himself against her from behind, dropping soft kisses to her lips, or keeping her close with a hand on her hip. It was more PDA than she would have normally allowed in front of his mother at this stage in their relationship, but considering he’d had a very rough day, she allowed him to use her as a distraction. Oddly enough, after a little while she got used to it; she wasn’t sure if it was the wine loosening her up or the fact that it just seemed…natural.

xxxxx

Later that night, Kate came out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed. She finished rubbing lotion on her hands and arms before sliding into bed next to him. She didn’t even have time to get settled before he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. “Mmm…someone is feeling better,” she looked up at him with a grin.

He met her smile and kissed her again. “Yeah. Thanks for being here for me tonight.”

She smiled against his lips. “Always,” she murmured, returning his kiss. And this time when he kissed her, he wasn’t using it as a way to distract himself.

[41319kbex]

Secret's Safe With Me (1/1)

This is a simple one shot story. I’m working my way through a Castle rewatch, and I got to the episode where Alexis moves into her dorm, and I felt like even though Castle and Beckett’s relationship was still relatively new, that there was still a missed opportunity to show her being there to support him the way he was so often there to support her. This fic fixes that.

Hope you guys enjoy this one! Feel free to drop me a message if you do!

I don’t own Castle…trust me, LokSat would NOT have happened if I did.

xxxxx

Beckett had made sure not to get involved in anything time-consuming that evening; she’d gone straight home after her shift was over. Sure, she knew she and Castle didn’t have plans because he was moving Alexis into her dorm, but she wanted to be available if he needed a little support that night, which she had suspected he might. He had talked with her about Alexis going to college, and she knew him well enough to know his little girl moving out into a dorm was hitting him harder than he was letting on.

He’d been her emotional support more times than she could count, and she wanted to be that for him now; though admittedly, she was going to be less pushy about it than he normally was. Or at least, she planned to be. She waited until she figured he’d at least be back at his loft before sending him a text to try to see how he was feeling.

You okay?

It was a simple text, but it would be enough for her to be able to gage where he fell on a scale of sad puppy to complete breakdown after dropping his daughter off.

No.

She received the text back quickly, and it was pretty much what she’d expected…definitely more than sad puppy. She’d known he wasn’t going to be okay, no matter how much he insisted he was. She waited several minutes to see if he was going to send her another message, maybe ask her to come over, or ask if he could come to her apartment. When he didn’t, she sighed and stood. Apparently, she was going to have to be a little pushy herself.

xxxxx

She knocked on the door to his loft, her overnight bag in one hand. She figured she wouldn’t be back at her apartment that night, and it might be rough for her to leave him early enough to get back to her place to get ready for work in the morning, and she couldn’t remember if she’d accidentally, on purpose left anything suitable to wear to work at his place or not.

“Katherine!” Martha greeted her when she opened the door with a smile.

“Hey Martha,” she returned the other woman’s smile with an almost shy one of her own. She was still getting used to the fact his mother knew about them being together. “How’s he doing?”

Martha stepped aside so Kate could come in, closing the door behind her. “You know, Richard…he’s upset but trying not to be upset for my sake, or for Alexis.”

Kate nodded with an understanding smile. “Where is he?”

“Brooding in his office. Perhaps you’ll have better results than I did,” she gestured back through the loft to his office.

Nodding again, Kate made the familiar walk through his apartment back toward his office. What she saw made her heart break for him. He was sitting at his desk, a mostly empty glass of Scotch on his desk as he caressed a picture of what she assumed was him and Alexis so carefully, like he was afraid he would break it. She placed her overnight bag on the couch in the room as she silently made her way over to his desk. As she got closer, she could tell he’d been crying, at least a little. “Hey…” she said softly, her fingers lightly caressing his neck before feathering through his hair soothingly.

He didn’t look at her yet, but his arm moved around her waist to pull her a little closer from his position in his chair. “My little girl is all grown up,” he said softly, his voice breaking just a little.

Her heart broke for him even more. “Yeah, she is,” she answered honestly. She turned his chair slightly then so he was facing her a little more. Stepping out of his embrace for a moment, she squatted down so that she could meet his eyes, her hands resting lightly on his thighs. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still need her dad. Alexis is smart…and you’ve done a great job with her. Now it’s time to let her spread her wings.”

His eyes met hers then. “And what if she falls?”

“Then you’ll be there to catch her,” she answered with a smile. “I promise you…a girl always needs her dad, no matter how grown up she thinks she is.” She gave his thighs a gentle squeeze before standing then and hugging him to her abdomen as he remained in his chair.

After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her shirt. “Thanks for coming over…I know I’m not going to be the best company tonight.”

She smiled slightly, her fingers soothingly stroking through his hair as she held him. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be tonight. I don’t want to just be around when you’re good company, you know; besides, you’ve been around me plenty of times when I’ve been miserable company,”

she pointed out, gently lifting his head so he’d see her smile.

He managed a small one for her. “It’s true…you were pretty miserable company when I had to pull you out of your bathtub, naked…despite the fact I was saving your life…”

She laughed softly, because of course that’s the moment he would immediately go back to. She would let him have it this evening, though, if that’s what he needed to smile. Leaning down, she placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Come on, I’ll make you some dinner.”

It took another moment, but he finally set the picture back on his desk and stood. He pulled her into his arms in a tight hug, which she returned just as tightly, trying to give him whatever strength and comfort she could tonight.

She waited for him to be the one to end the hug, willing to let him hold onto her as long as he needed. When he finally did release her, she placed a soft kiss to his lips before taking his hand and leading him back into the kitchen. She guided him to a stool at the kitchen island and had him sit, though she highly doubted he would stay there.

As she suspected, he didn’t sit still for long. She had only just opened the refrigerator door to check out what he had that she could use to make for dinner when she felt his hands on her hips, his chin resting on her shoulder as he peered inside as well. Gently nudging his head with her own, she found what she needed and grabbed it, before turning around and handing part of the items off to him so she could finish grabbing everything else.

Martha must have heard them because a few minutes later she had taken a seat at the kitchen island after pouring 3 glasses of wine. “Well, Katherine, you obviously have the magic touch with Richard…I’ll need to remember that for emergencies.”

Kate nearly choked on her drink of wine at Martha’s words. She was still a little self-conscious of being with him around his family. “Excuse me?” she stumbled over her words.

“I just mean that I tried since dropping Alexis off to cheer him up, and all I got was his brooding writer bit. Not even 20 minutes alone with you, and he’s at least not brooding anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I just pointed out that it doesn’t matter how grown up a girl gets, she’s always going to need her dad,” she smiled at him.

Castle returned her smile and dropped a soft kiss to her lips, causing Kate to both blush and take a large drink of her wine. She was going to need more alcohol to loosen up if he was going to want to keep touching her in front of his mother like that.

Kate didn’t stop him, though. As they made dinner, well mostly she made dinner, Castle couldn’t

stop touching her in some way, whether it was pressing himself against her from behind, dropping soft kisses to her lips, or keeping her close with a hand on her hip. It was more PDA than she would have normally allowed in front of his mother at this stage in their relationship, but considering he’d had a very rough day, she allowed him to use her as a distraction. Oddly enough, after a little while she got used to it; she wasn’t sure if it was the wine loosening her up or the fact that it just seemed…natural.

xxxxx

Later that night, Kate came out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed. She finished rubbing lotion on her hands and arms before sliding into bed next to him. She didn’t even have time to get settled before he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. “Mmm…someone is feeling better,” she looked up at him with a grin.

He met her smile and kissed her again. “Yeah. Thanks for being here for me tonight.”

She smiled against his lips. “Always,” she murmured, returning his kiss. And this time when he kissed her, he wasn’t using it as a way to distract himself.

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

Secret's Safe With Me (1/1)

This is a simple one shot story. I’m working my way through a Castle rewatch, and I got to the episode where Alexis moves into her dorm, and I felt like even though Castle and Beckett’s relationship was still relatively new, that there was still a missed opportunity to show her being there to support him the way he was so often there to support her. This fic fixes that.

Hope you guys enjoy this one! Feel free to drop me a message if you do!

I don’t own Castle…trust me, LokSat would NOT have happened if I did.

xxxxx

Beckett had made sure not to get involved in anything time-consuming that evening; she’d gone straight home after her shift was over. Sure, she knew she and Castle didn’t have plans because he was moving Alexis into her dorm, but she wanted to be available if he needed a little support that night, which she had suspected he might. He had talked with her about Alexis going to college, and she knew him well enough to know his little girl moving out into a dorm was hitting him harder than he was letting on.

He’d been her emotional support more times than she could count, and she wanted to be that for him now; though admittedly, she was going to be less pushy about it than he normally was. Or at least, she planned to be. She waited until she figured he’d at least be back at his loft before sending him a text to try to see how he was feeling.

You okay?

It was a simple text, but it would be enough for her to be able to gage where he fell on a scale of sad puppy to complete breakdown after dropping his daughter off.

No.

She received the text back quickly, and it was pretty much what she’d expected…definitely more than sad puppy. She’d known he wasn’t going to be okay, no matter how much he insisted he was. She waited several minutes to see if he was going to send her another message, maybe ask her to come over, or ask if he could come to her apartment. When he didn’t, she sighed and stood. Apparently, she was going to have to be a little pushy herself.

xxxxx

She knocked on the door to his loft, her overnight bag in one hand. She figured she wouldn’t be back at her apartment that night, and it might be rough for her to leave him early enough to get back to her place to get ready for work in the morning, and she couldn’t remember if she’d accidentally, on purpose left anything suitable to wear to work at his place or not.

“Katherine!” Martha greeted her when she opened the door with a smile.

“Hey Martha,” she returned the other woman’s smile with an almost shy one of her own. She was still getting used to the fact his mother knew about them being together. “How’s he doing?”

Martha stepped aside so Kate could come in, closing the door behind her. “You know, Richard…he’s upset but trying not to be upset for my sake, or for Alexis.”

Kate nodded with an understanding smile. “Where is he?”

“Brooding in his office. Perhaps you’ll have better results than I did,” she gestured back through the loft to his office.

Nodding again, Kate made the familiar walk through his apartment back toward his office. What she saw made her heart break for him. He was sitting at his desk, a mostly empty glass of Scotch on his desk as he caressed a picture of what she assumed was him and Alexis so carefully, like he was afraid he would break it. She placed her overnight bag on the couch in the room as she silently made her way over to his desk. As she got closer, she could tell he’d been crying, at least a little. “Hey…” she said softly, her fingers lightly caressing his neck before feathering through his hair soothingly.

He didn’t look at her yet, but his arm moved around her waist to pull her a little closer from his position in his chair. “My little girl is all grown up,” he said softly, his voice breaking just a little.

Her heart broke for him even more. “Yeah, she is,” she answered honestly. She turned his chair slightly then so he was facing her a little more. Stepping out of his embrace for a moment, she squatted down so that she could meet his eyes, her hands resting lightly on his thighs. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still need her dad. Alexis is smart…and you’ve done a great job with her. Now it’s time to let her spread her wings.”

His eyes met hers then. “And what if she falls?”

“Then you’ll be there to catch her,” she answered with a smile. “I promise you…a girl always needs her dad, no matter how grown up she thinks she is.” She gave his thighs a gentle squeeze before standing then and hugging him to her abdomen as he remained in his chair.

After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her shirt. “Thanks for coming over…I know I’m not going to be the best company tonight.”

She smiled slightly, her fingers soothingly stroking through his hair as she held him. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be tonight. I don’t want to just be around when you’re good company, you know; besides, you’ve been around me plenty of times when I’ve been miserable company,”

she pointed out, gently lifting his head so he’d see her smile.

He managed a small one for her. “It’s true…you were pretty miserable company when I had to pull you out of your bathtub, naked…despite the fact I was saving your life…”

She laughed softly, because of course that’s the moment he would immediately go back to. She would let him have it this evening, though, if that’s what he needed to smile. Leaning down, she placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Come on, I’ll make you some dinner.”

It took another moment, but he finally set the picture back on his desk and stood. He pulled her into his arms in a tight hug, which she returned just as tightly, trying to give him whatever strength and comfort she could tonight.

She waited for him to be the one to end the hug, willing to let him hold onto her as long as he needed. When he finally did release her, she placed a soft kiss to his lips before taking his hand and leading him back into the kitchen. She guided him to a stool at the kitchen island and had him sit, though she highly doubted he would stay there.

As she suspected, he didn’t sit still for long. She had only just opened the refrigerator door to check out what he had that she could use to make for dinner when she felt his hands on her hips, his chin resting on her shoulder as he peered inside as well. Gently nudging his head with her own, she found what she needed and grabbed it, before turning around and handing part of the items off to him so she could finish grabbing everything else.

Martha must have heard them because a few minutes later she had taken a seat at the kitchen island after pouring 3 glasses of wine. “Well, Katherine, you obviously have the magic touch with Richard…I’ll need to remember that for emergencies.”

Kate nearly choked on her drink of wine at Martha’s words. She was still a little self-conscious of being with him around his family. “Excuse me?” she stumbled over her words.

“I just mean that I tried since dropping Alexis off to cheer him up, and all I got was his brooding writer bit. Not even 20 minutes alone with you, and he’s at least not brooding anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I just pointed out that it doesn’t matter how grown up a girl gets, she’s always going to need her dad,” she smiled at him.

Castle returned her smile and dropped a soft kiss to her lips, causing Kate to both blush and take a large drink of her wine. She was going to need more alcohol to loosen up if he was going to want to keep touching her in front of his mother like that.

Kate didn’t stop him, though. As they made dinner, well mostly she made dinner, Castle couldn’t

stop touching her in some way, whether it was pressing himself against her from behind, dropping soft kisses to her lips, or keeping her close with a hand on her hip. It was more PDA than she would have normally allowed in front of his mother at this stage in their relationship, but considering he’d had a very rough day, she allowed him to use her as a distraction. Oddly enough, after a little while she got used to it; she wasn’t sure if it was the wine loosening her up or the fact that it just seemed…natural.

xxxxx

Later that night, Kate came out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed. She finished rubbing lotion on her hands and arms before sliding into bed next to him. She didn’t even have time to get settled before he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. “Mmm…someone is feeling better,” she looked up at him with a grin.

He met her smile and kissed her again. “Yeah. Thanks for being here for me tonight.”

She smiled against his lips. “Always,” she murmured, returning his kiss. And this time when he kissed her, he wasn’t using it as a way to distract himself.

[preytale]

Daeron's fingers traced the small, delicate object in his hand, a trifling thing by all accounts, yet it held a weight far beyond its size in his heart. It was a silver pin, no grand jewel, nor a thing of great value. but something sweet, simple. yet etched with the faintest outline of a star. He had spotted it in the market stalls the other day, glittering under the soft glow of the afternoon sun, && without a second thought, imagined it belonging to her.

The way her brow furrowed when she was deep in condemnation of him, the quiet strength she carried despite the world’s neglect. But it was a mere token, a piece of beauty as understated && intricate as Sophie Beckett herself. With a hesitant smile, he pressed it into her palm, lingering 'pon the touch as he softly said, "A little keepsake, should the days ever grow too long without something to smile for." His voice was barely above a whisper, a gentle offering, wrapped in the hope that she'd hold it close as she did her secrets.

how did he know? had he seen her eyeing that very pin in the markets but a few days prior? or had he simply taken notice of how her head tilts up at her window at night, admiring the moon and the surrounding stars and how each night she spent wishing upon them? whatever the truth may be, her eyes had widened the moment the pin had been gifted to her. her hand remaining wide open, palm up and staring down at it -- as if in shock. sweet words, as sweet as honey, accompanying an offer from a gentleman.

slowly brings her hand closer. confirmed by a simple glance that this was the same pin she'd been admiring. to most, it must seem a mere trinket. to her, there was something so divine about the pin with the star. her thumb ran across it, as if it being in her possession hadn't been enough to confirm that it was real and now hers.

a smile begins to crack through. she smiles often enough on a given day -- though, sophie has been known to clam up or cast the prince a glare here and there. but for once, a smile so genuine and vibrant in nature is exchanged as she murmurs, ❝ you are most gracious, my prince. ❞ her fingers clasp around the gift (partly our of fear of dropping it, and partly because --) and without warning, her arms are thrown around him. she hasn't much in this world. in fact, she has so little to call her own. all she could offer in return to show her appreciate was an embrace, riddled with warmth and gratitude that words alone could ever suffice. yet she whispers, ❝ thank you, ❞ -- incapable of hiding the emotion threatening to burst from her. it is a gift she will forever cherish and she knows exactly where to keep it.

[ryttu3k]

Ship it meme, Crossover Edition: Astarion/Beckett.

[ship meme]

Ohoho, interesting! Let's go with this AU for it, where Astarion is a Lasombra Embraced around the 1290s, who got involved with the Anarch Revolt and later rejected the Sabbat to stay with his coterie of fellow autarkis.

How would Beckett meet him? Well, there's some interesting figures in their coterie. I think he'd be pretty fascinated in particular by Halsin (a Gangrel who's also a Gurahl kinfolk; a) it's unusual for kinfolk who are Embraced to stay in contact with their packs, but Halsin has, and b) Gurahl are thought to be extinct), Shadowheart (also kinfolk, was part of an Abyss cult), Wyll and Karlach (involuntarily involved in infernalism), and, if he knew about them, Aylin (Salubri. Just… Salubri). Astarion might get some attention due to Cazador's attempts at infernalism, especially if he actually is Azanaeli/Angellis Ater.

So, that's how they could meet in the first place! From there…

Don't Ship It

1. Why don't you ship it?

I feel there'd be some irreconcilable differences in opinion. Beckett, for instance, is very open to using seduction as a manipulative tactic. See: the Dracula thing, where he specifically seduced Dracula to get information and access to his library. I feel that would rub Astarion the wrong way in a bad way, because even if it's been five centuries since then, I don't think he'd be able to just disregard the prior two centuries of Cazador using him for the same purpose. I could see Astarion being a little disgusted by Beckett's tactics just because it is something he used to be all for.

Like I don't feel it's just casual sex that Astarion has an issue with. So long as everyone is consenting and not trying to control him, yeah, he might be fine with that. It'd specifically be the seduction for an ulterior motive thing that would make him go, "…no thank you."

Other than that, they just really don't have a lot of interests in common. Beckett is obsessed with uncovering The Truth and knowledge in general and routinely throws himself into peril for it, Astarion wants to live a comfortable, safe life. His top priority is not being controlled or manipulated, and Beckett has got himself in multiple situations where he's being messed with due to his thirst for knowledge. Astarion would just be. Ah. No. You go throw yourself into the lion's den, I'll stand back here, thank you very much.

If I was to ship Beckett with any of the BG3 characters? It'd be Gale. Both seekers of knowledge, whatever the cost. Of Beckett's coterie, I feel Astarion would be most drawn to his clanmate Lucita. A certain level of sophistication + badassery + willingness for bloodshed + has relatable sire-related trauma. They could sit at the back of the room and snark about the others.

2. What would have made you like it?

I feel if Beckett made it very clear he was into Astarion because he was very attracted to him, and that any sex would be solely due to that and not to Get Something Out Of It, Astarion would be more into the idea? Like so long as it's not transactionary, it'd be much more palatable. I can't see an actual romantic relationship developing, but friendship / maybe FWB could work.

3. Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

If Astarion could be persuaded to go on an adventure, the sheer amount of Chaos these two could get into would be incredible :D Their alignments at this point would just be. Chaotic. Yes, I know True Chaotic doesn't exist but it does now. (No but really I feel Astarion starts out Chaotic Evil due to sheer... lack of knowing how to People otherwise, but is much more Chaotic Neutral by the end of the game. Beckett I see as Chaotic Neutral-Good. So even if their interests and personalities clash, their alignments aren't too far off, at least.)