#..the devil talks in scottish brogue..

[trenchcroats]

Chat I'm pretty sure the priest just he/him'ed me should we all clap and cheer?

[petercapaldi-press]

INTERVIEW

Peter Capaldi: ‘I was relieved the Tories lost. But it’s not that simple’

The Glasgow-born actor started out playing easy-going buffoons. Then along came ‘The Thick of It’. He talks to Craig McLean about how the Tories killed political satire, the divisive nature of the culture wars, why he found ‘Doctor Who’ fandom difficult, and what it’s like to be cast as malevolent characters

Sunday 20 October 2024 06:00 BST

Recently, whenever Peter Capaldi has been shown rough footage of himself acting in scenes, he’s done a double-take. “I’m horrified,” he says. “I go: who is that old, weird, gaunt guy with the white hair? Oh, it’s me. That’s what I’ve become. But that’s OK,” adds the 66-year-old with a shrug. “I always loved Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee and Vincent Price. Playing those villains, all those horror movie types, is great fun.”

Capaldi has certainly made a speciality out of sulphurous ne’er-do-wells with something of the night about them. On Friday, the crepuscular character actor who was more Doctor What? than Doctor Who returned to our screens in Prime Video’s twisty, time-bendy, supernatural thriller The Devil’s Hour as Gideon Shepherd, a mysterious criminal with a biblical name who may or may not be a serial killer. Meanwhile, details are scant on who or what he’s playing in the upcoming series of Black Mirror, but it’s a reasonable bet it’s a role with a whiff of the devil. Capaldi is happy with his run of malevolent characters – broadly. “I used to do voiceovers for Anchor butter. One day they said to me: ‘Could you try and sound a little less sinister?’ I thought: ‘I don’t know what’s happened, I’ve suddenly gone sinister.’ But sinister is good. I’ve always been a great fan of the sinister.”

Leaning in close over our lunchtime minestrone, eyes bulging, Scottish brogue bewitching, the Glasgow-born actor and Oscar-winning director is head-to-toe in black at a tiny table in a private members’ club in central London. Conversation turns to Criminal Record, this year’s low-key hit for Apple TV+ that is about to begin production on its second series. Capaldi plays an old-school copper with old-school values. You know, a bit of casual misogyny here, a bit of institutional racism there. All of which, naturally, rubbed up his counterpart, played by Cush Jumbo, an exemplar of “woke” modern policing. In a knotty drama developed by Capaldi’s producer wife Elaine Collins, the fact that DCI Daniel Hegarty was a barely likeable character was part of the attraction.

“Absolutely,” he affirms. “But also that he was complicated. That he wasn’t so simple to understand. We wanted to engage the audience in some sympathy for him. And understand that people are complex. He’s not black and white. But, yeah, in essence his role was to carry that darkness. That was appealing.”

Capaldi and Collins are both executive producers on Criminal Record. But he defers to his wife of 33 years – they met in 1983 on a touring theatrical production in Scotland but have long been based in north London – as “the boss, the creator”. While employed at the BBC, Collins developed Vera and Shetland – cosier police procedurals for sure. “Eventually she left, and went out on her own, and was keen to do a show that was maybe a bit harder.”

By “harder”, does he mean challenging woke sensibilities? “Well, I don’t know what woke sensibilities are. It’s trying to tell a story that’s interesting, arresting and makes people think – and is responsible. I’ve got the general picture [of what woke is]. It’s used all over the place. I don’t think half the people who use it know [what it means]. It’s just another word. This constant polarisation is not useful. It’s another tool to keep people apart.”

When I ask whether that’s what cancel culture is partly about, too, he professes confusion. “I don’t know – seriously. There have been points where there has been definite political motivation to cause [division]. To place people on the other side of the fence to each other. And it was contingent – it was more useful to the Tory party to have these wars than to try and find out what could bring people together.”

What he means is: it’s easier to foment a culture war than it is to tackle the problem of, say, social exclusion. “Yes. It’s all complicated, and simplifying it to black and white doesn’t help anyone.”

Capaldi leaning into the sinister in ‘The Devil’s Hour’ (Amazon)

Now in late middle age, and a grandfather of two, Capaldi admits to feeling a bit surprised at the way his career has turned out. “When I started off, I was an easygoing buffoon – a gangly youth in a Bill Forsyth gentle comedy,” he says of his breakout role opposite Burt Lancaster in the great Scottish director’s beloved Local Hero (1983). “But The Thick of It changed everything for me.”

Armando Iannucci’s excoriating political satire, which ran for four series between 2005 and 2012, rebranded Capaldi as Malcolm Tucker: the sweary spin doctor extraordinaire, a machiavellian operative who simultaneously oozed no-f’s-given superiority and radiated all-the-f’s rage. It exposed the inner machinations of government as both farcical and toxic. But this workplace comedy now feels very much of its time. Because surely post-get-Brexit-done, post-Parytgate and post-Liz-the-lettuce, politics today is beyond satire?

“We all felt that. I’m constantly asked by the press if I would do a new one,” he says of a show that won him a Bafta in 2010. “But [under the Tories] things were just too serious. The corruption was too deep. We’d be letting them off the hook by being funny.”

"David Tennant told me that, after ‘Doctor Who’, I wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without people knowing me"

Capaldi was raised in a working-class household in Glasgow and it’s not hard to divine his political sensibilities. But while he’s “glad, obviously” that the Tories lost the election, he insists that he’s “not politically engaged”. Why not? “I was forced to be politically engaged," he answers, presumably a reference to the demands placed on him by Iannucci’s typically nuanced scripts. “I’m not interested in it. In fact I hate it. I don’t want to spend my life thinking about all this stuff. Of course I was relieved the Tories lost. But it’s not that simple, is it?” He pauses and twitches a salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “Sorry, I sound mournful, don’t I?”

It’s that mournful demeanour that made him find some elements of his three-series run as the Time Lord difficult. He recalls talking to his predecessor-but-one, David Tennant, before his casting was announced in August 2013. “David said: ‘Is this true, you’re going to be the Doctor? Well, let’s go have a talk.’ It might have been here actually,” says Capaldi, gesturing round this clamorous room beloved of film and telly folk. “And he said to me: ‘What will change is your visibility. You won’t be able to walk down the street without people knowing who you are.’ I was like: ‘OK, we’ll see how that goes…’”

Capaldi ultimately found having to be nice to fans all the time “a bit of a stress… My [personal] character leans more to the melancholic and cynical. The daily good-heartedness of it all is quite a leap for me. But that’s what I was paid to do. But that’s exhausting… And that’s one of the things I’m glad to have left behind: I’m not responsible for the endless cheerfulness [of] little kids.”

He’s watched Ncuti Gatwa, yet another Scottish Time Lord, as the 15th Doctor and pronounces him “fantastic. I met him and thought he was lovely.” Add in the fact that original reboot showrunner Russell T Davies is back, and that Disney – and their money – are partners on the show, and it all makes for a show that, on paper at least, should feel very different. But as a corollary of that, some viewers feel that the world’s longest-running sci-fi show, a cornerstone of British culture, has been Disney-fied. Does he agree?

“I think that the show is... whatever those who love it want it to be,” he replies, carefully. “I come from [seeing] it in 1963. So even the show, when I came into it, was different from the show I remember. And I loved the show that I remember. I loved the show that we did, but it was different.”

Can he, though, imagine being in Gatwa’s shoes, as the brand ambassador for this new Doctor Who, one with demanding American audiences (and producers) to please?

“It must be tough,” he concedes. “That’s one of the hardest things about the job. Apart from the day-to-day business of delivering those lines, and you’ve got to have lots of ideas and energy, there’s always a knock at the door at lunchtime: ‘Can you come and talk to these visitors we’ve got onset?’ ‘Can you look at these new toys?’ ‘Can you sign these things?’ ‘Can you go to this meeting with so-and-so who’s selling this in South Korea?’ There’s always a [request]. It’s a big brand. So it’s quite a demanding job. It takes its toll.”

Capaldi as the Time Lord (BBC)

Capaldi also experienced the demands of geek fandom and blockbuster IP during his brief foray into the superhero world, with his role in James Gunn’s 2021 film The Suicide Squad. He found filming alongside an all-star Hollywood cast on huge sets in Atlanta, Georgia a blast; the endless promotion less so.

Still, the three-month shoot allowed him plenty of him to reconnect with his first passion: music. In the long hours in his Suicide Squad trailer, Capaldi wrote a bunch of songs that were eventually released as an album, 2021’s St Christopher.

It was a debut that was a long time coming. While at Glasgow School of Art in the early Eighties, Capaldi was in a band, The Dreamboys. “Bizarro punk” was Capaldi’s estimation at the time. Or “showbiz Bauhaus” according to their drummer Craig Ferguson, who went on to become a stand-up comic, actor and American chatshow titan (James Corden inherited his chair on The Late Late Show).

What kind of frontman was Capaldi? “I was OK,” he demurs. “I’m sure I jumped about a lot. You’d have to ask somebody else, really.”

So I do. “Oh, spectacular!” Ferguson tells me. “My girlfriend at the time was in another band and she said: ‘Your band are rubbish, but you’ve got a really good actor as the frontman.’ Peter was very charismatic – he still is – and onstage had that ineffable presence I’ve seen in a few people. Your eye goes to him. He was a star player from the word go.”

Capaldi has since completed a second album, Sweet Illusions. It’s a robustly melodic set, with Capaldi’s voice a cross between Leonard Cohen and The Blue Nile’s Paul Buchanan. Quelle surprise, the songs have a touch of midnight, too. “All the songs hanker back to that time,” he says of early Eighties, glad-to-be-grey Glasgow. “To an eternal, dark, synthesiser, guitar-y kind of vibe. Because I’m picking up where I left off.”

The first single is out now. It’s called “Bin Night”, a lullaby that’s a tribute to his infant grandchildren, to the “ticking clock” of his own mortality and to the domestic concerns of a Muswell Hill grandpa.

“I love bin night. It’s the one night when I can control the chaos of the world. The one night when I can restore some order to the entropy. Everything goes out on bin night.”

Even if Peter Capaldi’s borough, like my neighbouring borough, only takes recycling weekly but waste is fortnightly and garden refuse God knows when?

He splutters and straightens up. “They might only take one of them. But then I’ll just take the other one back in. That’s my rules. Bin night is my rules.”

‘The Devil’s Hour’ is on Prime Video from 18 October. The single ‘Bin Night’ is out now, and the album ‘Sweet Illusion’ is released on Last Night From Glasgow in March 2025

[sunsetno4]

When I come home it will be with, someone else's blood on my shirt, another county's dirt on the knees of my ripped jeans And I won't wanna talk about it

What you prise from 'tween my fingers, that the devil speaks in Scottish brogue, a love life under two shadows But you don't wanna talk about it

[oliverwvvd]

the devil in me, part ii

Back to writing these two, inevitably, at long last. This is for the lovely anon who dropped by and mentioned this one, despite it having been years since the last post. This is slightly trigger heavy, so sorry if the triggers contain spoilers, but people's mental health comes first so they can choose whether or not to engage with the content.

This is part of a series. You can find part one here.

pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood

premise: When Marcus wakes again in the endless white of St Mungo's, Oliver is still there, and his wand is still gone. Marcus thinks it's about debts owed, or at least, that's what he's trying to tell himself. Whatever other reasons might keep Oliver Wood at his bedside aren't remotely within a framework he's equipped to handle. [possible triggers: severe PTSD, hospitals, battle situations, Legilimency, implied invasion of the mind, implied intention not to survive]

When he wakes, one needle is back in his arm and Marcus’ first inclination is to be pissed off about it. Of course it is. Being angry is the best alternative, sublimation for all of the other emotions he should be feeling and isn’t. He doesn’t need any St Mungo’s trained therapist to tell him about that, mainly because it’s deliberate on his part.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters. “I don’t want painkiller withdrawal on top of everything else. The dosage has to be sky-high for me not to be feeling anything.”

“So you’d rather have the searing amount of pain that makes you pass out within minutes instead? You’re right; being a masochist is a much better idea.”

He closes his eyes. “Why are you still here, again?”

“Waiting for you to take your head out of your arse, though it seems I’ll be in for a long wait.” The tart rejoinder in a lovely, rolling Scottish brogue that he instinctively wants to wrap himself in doesn’t help his temper. Neither does the fact that Oliver is still too earnest despite the familiar barb in the words, as though he thinks he owes Marcus something. The stubborn set to his jaw is familiar too, viewed more than once when facing him on a Quidditch pitch.

It makes Marcus want to push him away for his own safety, because don’t you know what I am? Instead, his gaze is sulky, as though he’s a teenager again in a way he hasn’t been in years, and it’s solely fixed on Oliver. “I don’t like you, and I don’t want you here,” he says, and if that’s not the biggest lie he’s told in the past couple of years, he’s not entirely sure what is.

Oliver shrugs. “That’s too bad, Flint, because I’m not going anywhere.” He’s wearing a poloneck jumper, just like he used to at school when it got to winter weekends out of uniform, and Marcus has the fleeting, horrifying thought that maybe it covers bruises or worse. A second thought just as horrifying resurfaces: he still doesn’t have his wand.

That thought makes him abruptly change the subject. “Alright, Wood, since you’re here, be a good boy and tell me why I don’t have my wand.” It’s not a question. He doesn’t phrase it as one. To punctuate it and make it clear he’s not asking, Marcus opts to verbally twist the knife for good measure. “You owe me. That’s why you’re here, right? To settle the debt. So start talking.” That’s not a question either, because why else Oliver might be there is more than he can possibly handle getting into.

Oliver’s (Wood’s, damn it) expression darkens momentarily, as though he’s about to pick a fight. Marcus wants him to, because at least that would be normal, but he sees it the moment that Oliver registers he’s in a hospital bed all over again, sees the way his gaze turns pained and then the shutters draw closed again so he’s at a loss for what the other is thinking. He doesn’t like it. Oliver was always an open book, no filter, no love lost on his side of the equation. He doesn’t know what this new thing is.

He clears his throat brusquely. “Well?”

Oliver sighs. “They’re concerned about your mental state as well. That’s why you don’t have your wand. They thought you might try something you’d regret.”

Fury is, of course, the quickest and most reliable reaction. “So they thought they’d improve things by taking away the only piece of autonomy I had available to me for months? That’s genius thinking, that is. Who do I need to see to recommend them for promotion?”

Oliver’s lips twitch briefly then, clearly catching the sarcasm, but at the same time seemingly unable to smile at it. That’s fine, because it’s not funny at all.

Marcus exhales a sharp sigh, one that’s less exasperated by this point than unimpressed. “I suppose they thought I’d curse the whole place down, eh?” This time, it is a question, and the smile that goes with it isn’t genuine, it’s mean and sharp-edged. It’s an echo of all the ugly things that have stained his hands and his mind, and it occurs to him that throughout that, Oliver has been the only good thing, a pure thing he’d constructed for himself, a secret he kept that was sometimes the only reason he didn’t give in altogether. Now that’s done and it’s back to reality.

To his consternation, Oliver shakes his head, as though he can sense what Marcus is thinking. “No one believes that after the battle. You threw yourself in the way of someone that would have been dead if you hadn’t, without knowing whether you’d survive.” The words seemed hard for Oliver to speak, as though it was like a demon lived in his throat for as long as they sat there. “They didn’t know if you were going to pull through, the first couple of days.”

An eye-roll is Marcus’ first response to that, and he averts his gaze from Oliver then. “That was sort of the bloody point, Wood.” The words fall heavily in the room between them, but this time it’s not out of malice, it’s from defeat, an admission that he should have kept to himself. The anger hasn’t emptied its well yet, but for the time being, it’s quiet, a savage thing made somnolent again by the fact that he can feel the needle in his arm start to pour more potion into him. Presumably, it’s going to knock him out eventually.

Oliver’s own exhale is shaken, as though Marcus has punched him square in the solar plexus and it hurts, badly. After all these months of silence, it’s as though the casually cruel words aiming to drive him away are doing more damage than even the war has managed to. “Flint, you can’t just…”

Marcus wants to sit up again but the potion, damn it, feels like it’s got him pinned in place. That makes him edgy, makes him feel the cold sweat of panic beginning to prick, and he absolutely will not have a panic attack of any kind in front of an audience. He swallows hard, and Oliver seems unable to finish the sentence. It hangs there between them, unfinished.

That’s the moment that the door creaks open and the healer walks in, oblivious to the conversation that had been happening beforehand. Oliver leans back in the chair beside Marcus�� bed.

Marcus’ lip curls just slightly. “Come to check I’m still breathing?” he asks snidely. “Sorry to disappoint. You can go now, your duty is done.”

The healer does no such thing. “I’d hoped you’d be asleep by now,” he says with a tsk tsk sound that reminds Marcus of the teachers from school whenever he didn’t do his homework correctly. It does nothing to endear the man to him at all. “Evidently we need to increase your dosage. You shouldn’t have ripped those needles out of your arm as soon as you did, but Mr Wood tells me you have a remarkably high tolerance for pain.”

That causes Marcus’ gaze to narrow in Oliver’s direction, and it’s as accusing as it gets.

Oliver, to his credit (the little of it that Marcus is currently willing to give) doesn’t look away. “I’ve been in the Hospital Wing with you multiple times,” is the reminder that unexpectedly arrives, softer than he’s ever deserved. “You never took your painkillers. You always cast Evanesco.”

On the one hand, Marcus’ glare only intensifies, because Oliver’s just ratted him out to the healer. On the other, what does it even mean that Oliver remembers; how there seems to be something dark and sad behind his gaze ever since a few minutes ago. It doesn’t correlate with his real life knowledge of Wood, only the fantasy version he constructed in his head to have a reason to go on, and Marcus is fully aware of how incredibly unhealthy that was and is.

It’s only the healer’s voice that interrupts their charged stare, clearly ready to go for another lecture. “Well, there will be no hiding painkillers here. What were you thinking, taking those out? Did you just not realise the degree of damage you took?” It isn’t an indignant pair of questions, instead asked with the tone of someone who wants to understand the subject they are studying. It presses all of the wrong buttons for Marcus, and he endures it in silence until he can’t.

This is the moment he snaps. But it isn’t like every other time he’s lost his temper. No, this is different; his voice is surprisingly quiet and unsteady when he speaks. “Why does everyone want to know what I’m thinking suddenly? I’ve just spent the last two years having my mind pulled apart at a moment’s notice. All that I want is for everyone to stop trying to get into my head because I don’t want anyone in there ever again. Got it? It’s none of your business what I’m thinking.”

Dimly, he registers that Oliver has gone pale as he starts to understand what Marcus means. The healer looks appalled, because evidently, this was something undetectable while he was unconscious, and he’s beyond lashing out, because this has hit places he doesn’t want to go.

“Get out.” The words are quieter still, and there’s a flat, dulled down, deadly note to them.

Even half-conscious on a bed, drugged by the potion, it leaves to question what Marcus is capable of, the one thing no one has dared to think about so far. It’s a weak threat, but his voice carries all of it, like it’s every atom of a star at the moment of destruction.

The healer leaves. Oliver doesn’t, because Oliver hasn’t learned to be afraid of him, even though he should have.

When Marcus looks at him again, he thinks that he sees Oliver flinch, just a little around the eyes, and he knows he’s going to say something unforgivable if he isn’t left alone. “I meant you as well.” The words are empty. You need to go before I do any more things that I regret, and I can’t live with any more.

Oliver doesn’t listen. Instead, he does something that Marcus can handle even less. He climbs onto the bed and rests there next to him, close enough for Marcus to feel him breathe. “You’re really not a good listener, Flint. I already told you. I’m not leaving.”

Marcus’ hands suddenly feel too heavy, utterly ineffectual when he tries to raise them to push Wood right off the bed. Land on his arse. That’ll show him. Instead, his head starts to nod forward, and Oliver, the scheming bastard, must have known that the potion would take effect soon, had kept him talking until he had no choice but to go back to sleep again.

He’s so angry. He’s exhausted. He’s repeating the same cycle, inescapable, stuck on a loop of his own making. There’s wool against his face, something warm against his back. Oliver’s voice is there, he can feel it rumble in his chest, but the words don’t even register. It’s a warm sound, like copper and firelight, and it’s the last thing in his dwindling awareness before the world is lost altogether.

The frightening part is that he’s starting to want to wake up again. 

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Tea Rose 

Prompt:  Insects at night; bubble bath; Victorian

Group: C

-

North Star 

The water was deliciously warm, and Belle sighed, sinking lower in the bath and letting her knees rise up. Tiny bubbles were rolling down her thighs into the water, waves of white foam from the rose and lavender soap she had used. They piled against her wet skin, and she lifted a foot, lathering the soap between her hands and stroking fragrant froth between her toes. The sound of swift footsteps made her glance around, and she smiled as her maid, Ruby Lucas, entered with a copper jug full of steaming water.

“Last one, Miss Belle,” she said breathlessly, and Belle sat forward, hugging her knees as Ruby poured in the hot water, making the bubbles seethe and burst.

“Thank you,” said Belle, relaxing back and letting her arms stretch out. “Did I hear the front door just now?”

“Mr Gold arrived,” said Ruby, and seemed to bite her lip to hide a smirk as Belle squeaked.

“Mr Gold? But he hasn’t visited in an age! Is he staying long?”

“Tiana was making some supper for him while I was fetching the water,” said Ruby, with a grin. “So it looks that way, Miss.”

Belle floundered, pushing herself upright and splashing water over the edge of the tub.

“Hurry! My blue dress!”

-

Ruby was used to her mistress’s impulsive nature and swift decisions, and she managed to get Belle dressed and ready quickly, although Belle thought it fortunate that she hadn’t washed her hair that evening. She hurried from her room as soon as the last pin was in place, and paused at the top of the stairs, hands smoothing her skirts nervously. Voices were drifting up from her father’s study, and Belle clutched at the smooth oak banister, her heart pounding and the colour rising in her cheeks as she recognised the warm brogue of Mr Gold. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the way his smile made the corners of his mouth twist and his eyes gleam with a soft, amber light.

He had been friends with her father for some time; Maurice French’s strange inventions and boundless enthusiasm for the latest scientific discoveries made him somewhat eccentric in the eyes of his peers, but Mr Gold shared his interests, and the two of them had struck up a friendship. Gold had a fine house in London and an estate north of the Scottish border that Belle had regrettably never seen. Maurice didn’t like to travel, preferring to spend all his time at home, shut up in his workroom or reading in his library. Gold travelled a great deal, searching far and wide for a son he had lost and was desperate to find.

Belle had seen a picture of his son once, a drawing in charcoal of a dark-haired boy of around fourteen. It had been crumpled and a little smudged at the edges, as though it was looked at often. Thinking of the pain that Gold had carried for years made her heart ache for him, but he always had a smile for her, and a present from his travels, and fascinating tales of the places he had visited. He had been coming to the house regularly for the past five years, and Belle had been completely in love with him for around four and a half. For all the good it did.

She took a deep breath, composing herself before she entered the room, and both men turned to look at her, Maurice short and round with a balding head and bristling white mustache and Gold a little taller, thin and clean-shaven. He wore his brown hair longer than was fashionable, curling over the collar of his coat and brushing his cheeks. It was turning silver at the temples, and she had always thought how soft it looked, and how much she wanted to touch it. There was an old ring on his right hand, a moonstone in a heavy gold band, which she had noticed him turning between finger and thumb when lost in thought. Gold bowed his head as she entered.

“Miss French,” he said. “You’re looking remarkably well.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been too long since we saw you, hasn’t it, Papa? Where did you go?”

Gold glanced between them.

“I just returned from the south of France,” he said. “Choppy waters in the Bay of Biscay, but the winds were with us.”

“Oh!” said Belle excitedly. “I’d love to go to France! Please, tell me what it was like!”

Gold turned towards her, the little smile he often wore twisting his mouth and making his dark eyes gleam in the lamplight.

“I rode a horse through endless fields of lavender,” he said softly. “The scent filled the air around me, and seemed to sink into my skin, so that I could smell it at night when I lay down to sleep. The road was hard earth, baked and cracked by the sun, winding between small villages and farms where the locals dozed in the shade of the olive trees with their cats. In the evenings, the sun would set in a blazing puddle of molten gold, and I ate fresh bread and soft, pungent cheese and drank red wine that was dark as blood and tasted of spices.”

Belle could feel her mouth fall open as the sound of his voice washed over her, filling her mind with the images his words created. His eyes were fixed on hers, his gaze steady.

“Must be a shock to come back to London, what?” said Maurice jovially, and Gold looked away, breaking the spell.

“The city is even busier and dirtier than I remember,” he said, with a grin. “It’s strange: I tell myself each time I go that I should sell the house and leave London entirely, yet something keeps pulling me back, turning me home. Like a guiding light. Like the North Star.”

He glanced briefly at Belle, and she felt a blush begin to heat her cheeks. Please don’t leave, she thought. Please don’t leave me.

“It’ll keep your housekeeper on her toes,” chuckled Maurice.

“Poor Mrs Potts,” said Gold, sounding rueful. “I fear the house will still be shut up tight. I’ll have to let myself in and build a fire. It’ll be the devil’s work for my valet trying to make me presentable tomorrow morning; he does like to do things properly.”

“Then stay with us, my dear fellow!” cried Maurice, patting his shoulder. “Goodness, you can’t be expected to open up the house yourself at this hour!”

“Well, it would certainly be a relief not to have to go out again,” said Gold. “The journey was rather tiring. Of course, I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Not at all, not at all,” said Maurice. “Let me speak to Mrs Lucas. I’ll have one of the guest rooms made ready, and Locksley will look after your man.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

Maurice bustled out, and Gold turned to Belle with a smile.

“I’m sorry to be calling so late, Miss French,” he said. “After travelling for so long, I almost lost track of the day, not to mention the hour.”

“We’re very glad to see you,” she said warmly, almost reaching for his hand before remembering herself and pulling back. “And you must be tired. Please, don’t feel that you have to stand on my account. Do take a seat, I insist.”

Gold’s smile widened.

“I could never refuse you anything, Miss French.”

-

Gold was served a simple supper of raised game pie, bread and cheese, and afterwards he and Maurice drank brandy and talked over the latest news. Belle was eager to hear more stories of the trip to France, and Gold obliged, telling her of the sights he had seen on the roads through Provence to Avignon.

“Sounds dusty,” declared Maurice. “And much too hot. This summer has been wretched. Far better to stay at home.”

“Well, I would love to travel,” said Belle. “I always wanted to see the world. I’ve lived twenty years, and barely left London! What I wouldn’t give for some adventure!”

“You young people are too restless,” grumbled Maurice. “Certainly I have no desire to be always going here, there and everywhere. And certainly young women shouldn’t be travelling alone and - and adventuring. It’s unseemly.”

“This is the Victorian age, Papa,” said Belle severely. “If Her Majesty is considered capable of ruling an entire empire, then allowing the rest of us women the freedom to do as we please will hardly bring about the downfall of civilisation.”

Maurice clicked his tongue.

“Really, Belle!” he said. “What must Mr Gold think of you?” “Mr Gold agrees wholeheartedly,” said Gold. “The world would be far better if women had the same freedoms as men, and were recognised for the infinitely superior creatures they are. Where will you go on your travels, Miss French?”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Perhaps I shall start a little closer to home,” she said. “I have always wanted to visit Scotland.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come to Dundorcha,” he said. “Although at this time of year, the midges will want to eat you alive.”

“Perhaps in the winter, then,” she suggested, and he smiled.

“I’ll make you very welcome.”

-

It was nearing midnight. Maurice was snoring in his chair, and Belle had followed Gold out onto the balcony overlooking the rear gardens. The summer night was cool, the only light coming from the oil lantern that Gold had carried with them and placed on the table where Belle took her morning tea. A moth appeared out of the night, batting translucent wings against the lantern’s glass shade. Smaller insects joined it, the glow from the lantern catching them, brief flecks of light in the darkness. Gold was gazing out into the night, his expression distant, thoughtful. His fingers turned that old ring, the gold band catching the light from the lantern.

“Where did you get that ring?” asked Belle. “I always meant to ask. It looks old.”

Gold looked down, splaying his fingers.

“It is,” he agreed. “Older than you might think.”

“Is it a family heirloom?” she asked, and he smiled in an almost secretive way.

“Something like that.”

“A good luck charm, perhaps?” she suggested, and he shrugged.

“It’s supposed to help the bearer find what it is they want most in the world,” he said, and leaned towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s magic.”

“Really?” she asked, a little breathless at his closeness of him. Gold pulled back, a tiny sigh escaping him.

“Well, that’s what I hoped,” he said, sounding resigned. “A fool’s hope. There is no magic in this world. At least, not any more. Perhaps there used to be.”

He sounded despondent, and she wanted to comfort him, to tell him there was always hope.

“Is there no word of him?” she asked gently. “No word of your son? I’m sure you’ll find him. I can feel it.”

Gold shook his head, his mouth twisting.

“I’ve been searching for so long now,” he said quietly. “Every time I hear the faintest rumour I pick up and I chase after it. Every time I’ve been disappointed.”

“You mustn’t give up hope,” she said, and he turned to her with a sad smile.

“I try to keep faith that I’ll find him,” he said. “Alas, this time it was not to be. I didn’t choose the right place. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even in the right time.”

“The world is vast,” she said. “Trying to find one person out of - of thousands - must be next to impossible. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “And perhaps it isn’t merely my own misfortune. If he wanted to be found, he wouldn’t make it so difficult.”

Belle stepped closer.

“You think he’s - hiding - from you?” she asked curiously, and he sighed gently.

“There was a misunderstanding,” he said. “Before he - before I lost him. I think he might still be very angry with me.”

Belle bit her lip, shaking her head.

“But you’re his father,” she said softly. “He must know that you love him. He can’t stay angry forever.”

“I hope you’re right.”

His eyes were downcast, and he suddenly looked very tired. Tired and sad. On impulse, Belle stepped close, turning her face upwards and pressing her mouth to his. She felt him freeze at the touch of her lips, and she drew back, her heart pounding. Gold was staring at her wide-eyed, a stricken look on his face, but then his gaze darkened and he reached out to cup her cheeks with warm hands, bending his head to kiss her.

Belle opened her mouth a little, a moan escaping her as his lips met hers, soft and warm. The touch of his tongue made her rise up on her toes and press her body to his, and he let out a low groan as she slid her hands around his waist. A faint, jagged noise seemed to burst outwards, like the sound of glass shattering in the distance, and Belle’s eyes flew open as what looked like a rainbow-hued ripple spread out from them and dissipated. Gold was breathing heavily, staring at her wide-eyed.

“What was that?” she gasped, and he smiled broadly, gazing at the ring on his finger, which seemed to pulse with a soft light.

“A second chance,” he breathed. “A spark of magic. I can find him. With this I can find him.”

“Magic?” she asked, puzzled, and he cradled her cheeks with his palms, still grinning. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and she couldn’t understand it.

“The most powerful magic of all,” he said softly. “Powerful enough to transcend realms and trigger the spell in this ring. True love.”

Belle clutched at his waist, nodding fiercely.

“Yes!” she whispered. “I do love you! I’ve loved you for so long!”

“And I love you, too.” He pressed his forehead to hers, seeming to breathe in her scent. “I never dared to hope that you might feel the same, my darling Belle. I never dared to dream that you might want me. And now you’ve given me this gift. This chance.”

“I - I don’t understand,” she said. “What did I do?”

His thumbs stroked her cheeks, his nose brushing against hers.

“There’s power in love, Belle,” he said. “Love creates magic. Magic enough to let me find my boy. Will you come with me?”

Belle smiled at his strange talk of magic, reaching up to stroke a hand through his hair. It was every bit as soft as she had thought.

“I’d love to,” she said. ”We’ll see the world, just as I always wanted. I’ll help you find him, I swear it. Whatever you need.”

Gold kissed her again, soft lips gently pulling at her own, and she melted into the kiss, safe in his arms. Magic or not, it would be the most wonderful adventure.

-

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Devilish (3/10)

Summary: It all starts with a bra. Librarian Belle French is looking to start life afresh after leaving a toxic relationship. Photographer Aiden Gold is feeling old after learning he’s going to become a grandfather. Thanks to a lingerie catalogue named ‘Devilish’, a chain of events is set in motion that causes their lives to intertwine…

Rated: This chapter is T.

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[One] [Two] [AO3]

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Devilish

Chapter Three – When You’re Ready

If there was one thing that Belle could say for Devilish, it was that everything about it was discreet. The head office building that she was currently sitting outside looked like any ordinary office building, with just the devil horns decal to show that she was in the right place. She glanced over at Ariel in the driver’s seat of the car; her friend gave her an encouraging smile which Belle could not bring herself to return, and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. For all she had been looking forward to this experience, now that she was actually here and about to do it, she was having second thoughts.

“Is this the part where you expect me to talk you out of doing this?” Ariel asked, her encouraging smile becoming a cheeky grin before Belle’s eyes. “Because it’s not going to happen. I think you’re doing a great thing, and if this doesn’t get rid of all those horrible negative thoughts that Gaston’s shoved into your head, then I don’t know what will.”

“I don’t know, Ariel. I mean, what if I make a complete fool of myself in front of everyone else?”

“Well, everyone else is an amateur like you, so I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about in that respect. And the photographer’s probably a nice guy otherwise they wouldn’t have kept him around for however many catalogues they’ve had. You’ll be fine. Just go in there and enjoy it. Make some friends. Hey, you never know, there might be someone you recognise in there. And at the end of the day, just think of the free samples that you’re going to get to take home with you afterwards.”

Belle nodded. That was one thing that was keeping her going, the thought that she’d get a few lovely Devilish pieces out of this. She took a deep breath and got out of the car, clutching all the paperwork that she’d printed out over the last couple of weeks. It was almost like being back in the street outside the shop again, except this time there were no window displays to show the public exactly what kind of a place she was entering.

“Get inside!” Ariel yelled from the car through the open window, and Belle hurried into the building before her friend could cause any more of a spectacle outside.

It was a small office space, no reception desk to speak of, and Belle found herself alone in the little lobby, wondering where on earth to go now and what she was going to do with herself, but she didn’t have long to wait before the quick clicking of high heels came down a corridor and Belle found herself face to face with Carella de Ville herself. Although she’d seen pictures of Devilish’s founder in the catalogue, meeting her in the flesh was another thing entirely. The photograph didn’t really do justice to quite how terrifying she was, dressed completely in stark monochrome down to her two-tone hair. Luckily, she was smiling, but Belle thought that if she was ever angry, then she would be spectacular to behold and everyone who witnessed her would probably run for cover. Hopefully she would stay smiling throughout the day. She took the paperwork from Belle’s unresisting hands and flicked through it.

“Hello there, you must be Belle. Welcome to the office. It’s not the swankiest of places, although not for want of trying, but do make yourself at home. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll get you settled in.”

Powerless to resist, Belle just nodded and trotted along after Ella into what she assumed was the break room. Several other women were already there, sitting in groups and chatting to each other, there were several sofas and chairs set up and a refreshments table in one corner. It was clear that they already knew each other, and Belle felt a lot like the odd one out.

“Hey, Belle!”

She was startled on hearing her own name from one corner of the room and even more startled when she glanced over and saw Ruby from the shop waving her over. However alarmed she was at finding someone she knew there despite her private ridicule of Ariel’s optimism, she was grateful to see a friendly face and made her way over to the group that Ruby was sitting with, waving awkwardly. Ruby took it all in her stride and made quick introductions to the other women, whose names Belle almost immediately forgot apart from Mary Margaret, who was bouncing a baby on her lap.

“So, first time huh?” Ruby said. “You’ll be fine. It’s a piece of cake, Gold makes it really easy for you. All you have to do is smile and have confidence.”

“Yes…” Belle shook her head. “That’s the part I’m having trouble with.”

“Well, you’re here,” Ruby said. “That’s a step in the right direction. It’s a bit too late to back out now. But everything will be all right, I promise. This is my second time doing the catalogue and I remember how it feels the first time. You feel like everyone’s looking at you, but they’re not really. I mean, it’s not like you’re the only one in your underwear. No-one’s going to laugh at you.”

“You weren’t around for the last Christmas shoot, were you Ruby?” said one of the other women – Kathryn, Belle remembered. “Because it was the big Christmas special Gold had to bring in his assistant who promptly intended to spend the entire day in just his boxers in order to try and put the ladies at ease. Gold made him get dressed again in the end, he said he was a distraction.”

“Do you think we could get Gold to strip down one of these days?” Ruby mused. “I mean, not that he doesn’t look great in his suits, but you know… You get curious.”

Kathryn shook her head with a laugh. “Ruby, you know what we all say about him.”

“I know, I know. Doesn’t stop me wondering though.”

“What do you all say about him?” Belle asked, but before she could get an answer, the door had opened and someone who could only have been the man himself peered around it, scanning the room. Momentarily his eyes widened, and Belle thought she could make out the words ‘oh good lord’ from his lips, but since he wasn’t looking at her, she felt safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t going to turn her away out of hand. Not that such a thing was likely to happen anyway – the last couple of weeks had been a constant back and forth between Belle and one of Ella’s assistants explaining how the shooting process would work, and he would have already seen pictures of her.

He vanished as quickly as he had arrived in the room, and then Ella and her assistant (the same one who’d been emailing her, Belle noted) started organising things with an ease that showed this was definitely not the first time they’d done it, and whilst none of the women were professionals, the people in charge certainly were. It was interesting that there were so many women there who had been to a catalogue shoot before – it showed that they were treated well at least and had enjoyed the experience enough to return. All the same, Belle had hoped that there would be another first-timer whom she could buddy up with. Well, she had Ruby and would stick by her side as much as she could. Hopefully the other woman wouldn’t mind.

Fate, however, was not on her side, as Ruby had come to model some of the more risqué pieces from the ‘naughty’ end of the catalogue and was whisked off for fittings, and Belle was left adrift, so she settled for just listening in to the others’ conversations as people came in and out for make-up and fittings. Finally it was her turn, and Astrid the ever-smiling assistant led her away into a little fitting cubicle.

“All right, we’ve laid out a few pieces in your size,” she said. “Take a look and see what takes your fancy, we’ll make sure it fits nicely and then we’re good to go. I know it’s your first time so we’ll take it slow; no need to be scared.”

Belle settled on a set in rich turquoise silk, a full cup bra and French knickers. She might be modelling for an underwear catalogue but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t still want good coverage. Astrid proclaimed the fit to be perfect and Belle gratefully donned the dark robe hanging in the cubicle before following Astrid out into the space that was being used as a studio.

“Ella likes to keep a certain amount of control over things,” Astrid explained, “which is why everything’s done here rather than in Gold’s studio. He always works wonders with the space, you’d never guess that this was an office during the week.”

Gold was halfway up a stepladder adjusting a light fitting as Belle entered, and she stood there awkwardly for a moment waiting for him to finish and taking a good look at him.

Although she’d spent more than enough time on Gold’s website in the run up to sending in her application, none of the photos in his online portfolio were of himself, and the snippets of conversation that she’d picked up from the other ladies in the break room hadn’t really given her an idea of what he was like. The brief glimpse she’d seen of him earlier had not done him justice.

He was older than she’d anticipated, but that didn’t bother her. In fact it was reassuring; although she’d had several assurances from various sources that he was always the picture of professionalism, she didn’t think that seeing someone in Gaston’s age range would have done anything to boost her confidence. Aiden Gold looked to be in his early fifties; there were the odd tell-tale lines of grey in his collar length hair lending him an air of distinguished gravitas. Presently he glanced down at her and smiled.

“I’ll be with you in a minute. Just need to fix this in case it falls on your head. Take a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

The low Scottish brogue surprised her and Belle did as bid, settling in the armchair in the middle of the makeshift studio and watching Gold on his stepladder. He was wearing what had evidently at one point been a three-piece suit, but the jacket and tie had been discarded in one corner and his shirt was open at the collar, making him look stylishly dishevelled. She’d never known any man dress so sharply in his everyday work and she wondered if he wore a suit as a matter of course when he was photographing people or whether it was something special for the Devilish catalogue. She didn’t think that it would give him all that much freedom of movement to give him the best angles and shots that he needed.

“So, you’re a first timer,” he said. “Don’t worry, we’ll talk you through it all. There’s nothing to worry about, just be natural. That’s the whole point.” He made a final adjustment to the light and descended the ladder. “There, that should do it. I’ll introduce myself properly now. Aiden Gold, photographer. Pleased to meet you.”

“Belle French. It’s nice to meet you too.”

His hand was warm and soft when she shook it, his grip firm and confident, and Belle felt a little more at ease. She’d never really trusted people who had handshakes like limp fish.

“Well, Belle, the main thing is to enjoy the experience, and don’t worry about it looking perfect. You’re not a professional, none of the ladies are, and we don’t expect you to act and pose like one. Just as long as you’re comfortable, we’ll go from there. If you just smile for the camera then I’ll take a couple of test shots to check the lighting.”

Belle smiled, and found that it was remarkably easy to do so. Gold’s camera clicked a few times and she saw the satisfied smile he gave as he looked back through the pictures.

“Lovely. You’re a natural, you know. Now, let’s work out a nice position for you, something that you feel comfortable in. What do you normally do to relax? If you were at home on your own sofa in an evening, what kind of a position would you sit in?”

Somewhat self-conscious, Belle brought her feet up and tucked them underneath her, lounging against the chair back in as close an approximation of her cosy reading nook at home as she could.

“I like to read,” she said. “Get lost in a good book.”

“Perfect. I think I have just the thing.” He sped away to the side of the room and returned with a paperback from a large duffel bag. “Always pays to have props, especially for first-timers. This way, you don’t need to worry about looking at the camera and having it look back at you. I think I’ve got another in there if that one’s not to your taste.”

Belle glanced down at the cover, it was Watership Down and she couldn’t help but giggle that Gold should have brought a book about bunnies to the photoshoot with him. “No, this one will do fine.”

“Perfect. Now, if you take your robe off, I’ll get to work.”

The old unease came back into Belle’s mind as she unfastened the robe and slipped it off her shoulders; the room was warm from the lights and the space heaters in the corner, but she still felt goose pimples break out over her arms as she disrobed. Gold had politely looked away as she took it off and settled herself with the book, but now he turned back and smiled.

“That’s beautiful,” he said. “Now, I’ll be taking the pictures from directly in front of you here.” He planted himself in front of the chair, bending a little to get the right angle. “You can look at the book or at me, or off into the middle distance if you want. Just keep the book in your lap rather than holding it up – ultimately it’s the bra that’s going into the catalogue, not the book, although it’s one of my favourites and I certainly don’t mind advertising it.”

Belle had to laugh. “I don’t think I’d have put you down as the bunny book type.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised by some people’s foibles when it comes to reading material.” Gold gave a chuckle of his own.

“Believe me, I know all about reading material foibles. I’m a librarian when I’m not looking like a deer in the headlights.”

“I can promise you that you’re not looking like a deer in the headlights,” Gold said, and the camera took Belle by surprise when it clicked.

“Wait, no, I wasn’t ready!” Belle exclaimed.

“Oh no, you were looking absolutely perfect.” Gold grinned. “I had to capture the moment, it was wonderful. You looked so happy and natural.” He held out the camera. “You can see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” There was something in his caring, open manner that made Belle trust him, perhaps more than she would have done otherwise. “You know,” she said, “you’re not how I imagined you’d be.”

The corner of Gold’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, no, it’s good. I was kind of worried that you’d be, oh, I don’t know how to describe it. Scarily professional, I guess.”

“Well, I try to be professional. I don’t intend to be scary although my Ella has more than once accused me of having resting bitch face. I try and only be scary when I want to be, and I have no desire to scare you. Others, perhaps, but not you. Now, let me take a couple more shots and then you can wrap up again. You’re doing really well, I promise. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

The fact that everyone else around her seemed to have so much confidence in her ability to pull this off boosted Belle’s own confidence, and she closed the book in her lap, smiling for the camera. Her goose pimples had gone, and she was feeling unusually warm. Was it the attention she was receiving from Gold making her feel this way? It was nothing special, surely, he must act this way with all the models; perhaps paying her a little more attention because she was new. Either way, although she was nervous, she was feeling good as Gold snapped a couple more pictures.

“That’s very good. You can wrap up again now and change into something else for the afternoon session.”

“Afternoon session?”

“Yes. There are more products than models so we have to double up.” Gold winked at her. “And since you’ve sat so well, I’d like you to model again, if you’re amenable to that.”

Belle slipped the robe on thankfully and pulled it tight. She was horribly aware of the heat rising in her cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief that she’d actually managed to go through with this venture. Eventually she nodded.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

“Would you like to see?” Gold asked, holding up the camera as she turned to leave the room. Belle paused, tempted, but ultimately she decided against it.

“No, thanks. I’ll wait for the catalogue.”

“As you wish, Belle. I’ll see you again later.”

Belle nodded, finding that against all the odds, she was very much looking forward to the experience.

X

“I wonder what her game is.”

It was the lunch break and most of the ladies were milling about in their robes in the main room designated as the waiting area.

Mary Margaret had been the one to speak and Belle glanced over at her; she nodded in the direction of the doorway before turning her attention back to baby Leo, who was nursing happily. Belle followed her gaze to see a red-headed woman chatting to Gold. Well, chatting to him didn’t seem to be the right word to use in the circumstances. She was talking at him and he didn’t seem to be showing the blindest bit of interest in what she was saying. His arms were folded, defensive, a posture that didn’t take any nonsense as she leaned in, obviously posing. Most of the ladies opted to cover up in the time between shoots for warmth if nothing else, but this woman was definitely making the most of what she had.

“She’s not going to get very far if she’s trying to score with him.” Kathryn came over and sat down beside them, watching the interplay with morbid interest. “You know what they say.”

“What do they say?” Belle asked.

“I forgot, this is your first time.” Kathryn nodded towards Gold. “We’re pretty sure he’s gay.”

“Oh.” Although Belle had not seriously been considering making an attempt with Gold like the other woman was doing, she had certainly found him attractive and would have flirted with him given the opportunity, confidence, and correct situation, namely one in which she was not doing an underwear catalogue photoshoot and he was not the one photographing her. He’d been so warm and friendly towards her in the studio whilst they were working, but true enough, there had been nothing there that really indicated that he had any kind of interest in her beyond a professional one.

“We’ve got no proof,” Mary Margaret admitted. “But considering he’s been doing these photoshoots since the very beginning and no-one’s ever known him ever make a pass at any of the ladies or even show any kind of interest in them.”

“No-one’s ever known him do the elevator eyes thing,” Kathryn added. “Or address breasts instead of face. It’s like he just doesn’t see anything below the chin. Always the perfect gentleman. I mean, Ella would probably bury him alive if he tried anything on any of her models, but all the same, given my experience of heterosexual men, I’m not sure that I’d put him into that category.”

“And there’s his assistant,” Mary Margaret said.

“What, the one who was working in his boxers?” Belle asked.

“Yes. I mean, it’s obvious that the two of them are very close, and Jefferson definitely gives off more of a gay vibe. Gold’s one of those people where you can never really tell what he’s thinking. He’s hard to read.”

“Which is what makes him so deliciously mysterious.” Ruby came over; she was enveloped in a robe like the rest of them but she was wearing patent leather high heels and long shiny gloves that disappeared into the sleeves, hinting that what was underneath the robe was a lot less innocent than the things that the other ladies were wearing.

“I thought you had a girlfriend, Ruby?” Kathryn said.

“I do. Doesn’t mean I can’t look.” She winked and turned to Belle. “How are you getting on? Enjoying yourself?”

Belle nodded. “Yes. It’s been a lot easier than I thought it would.”

“Well, it looks like you’ll be up again soon, so here’s hoping that it just gets easier. It does get easier, the more you do it the more you get used to it. You’ll be great. Gold wouldn’t get you in there twice if he didn’t think that you were any good.”

Sure enough, Belle was being waved back through to the area set up as the studio. Gold was already there; he still had half a sandwich in his mouth and seemed to be a lot more animated than he had been during the morning; there was a thrumming energy in his movements, unlike the quiet patience that he had shown earlier. Despite the more dynamic cant to him, though, Belle did not feel at all rushed or pressured as she came in and looked around for somewhere to sit or stand without looking awkward. He smiled when he saw her, and Belle took that to be a good sign.

“Hello again. Please don’t be put off by the increased pace; we have more than enough time to take your time.”

“Thanks.”

“If you’re ok with it, I’d like to get some full-length shots of you standing this time,” Gold said. “If you’d like to step over here into the light?”

Belle came over, unfastening her robe as she did so but not taking it off. This time she had chosen pink, a light satin teddy with delicate lace edgings, something soft and feminine and incredibly pretty, but still with enough coverage for her to feel comfortable in it.

“Does it look ok?” she asked. For some reason his approval was important to her; Ruby’s words earlier about him thinking that she was a good model had struck a chord somewhere in the back of her mind.

Gold nodded. “You look lovely. Let me just adjust the reflectors and we’ll be good to go. Could you pop the robe off please? I know how fabric reflects light and I don’t want it accidentally going see-through in the final picture.”

Belle felt the blush return to her face at the thought, and she crossed her arms over her chest a little protectively as she draped the robe over the back of the chair she’d been sitting in earlier, partly out of a fear of her underwear becoming see-through but mostly because her nipples had hardened and were incredibly visible. With any luck she would be able to put it down to the temperature in the room. She hadn’t had this problem in the morning; the bra she’d chosen was lightly moulded and had hidden such things.

She shook herself crossly. Gold was a professional and he’d been doing this for years, he must have seen more pebbled nipples than hers. In fact, given some of the things in the ‘naughty’ section of the catalogue, he must definitely have seen more nipples than hers, including ones that weren’t covered in pink silk. And if Mary Margaret and Kathryn were to be believed, then he wasn’t interested in her nipples anyway. All the same, she tried to rub her breasts surreptitiously to try and solve the problem.

“All right, I’m ready whenever you are,” Gold said, having moved the reflectors and picked up his camera again.

He let her set the pace, didn’t pressure her to move her hands away from her breasts, to pose in this way or that. He wanted her to be natural, just like in the morning, and Belle felt a fresh wave of admiration for this man and his artistic talents.

“All right,” she said, and she uncrossed her arms from over her chest. As she had expected, Gold didn’t react at all, and she felt an inordinate sense of relief from that fact. “I’m ready.”

X

“Good day?”

Gold looked up as Ella came across the office with a can of pre-mixed gin and tonic in each hand, and he smiled, reaching out for one. She pulled both out of his reach. “Oh no, these are both for me. You know that the cans never make it quite as strong as I like; I’ll need both in order to get the same effect.”

Gold just rolled his eyes and continued to flick through the pictures that he’d taken throughout the day. Ella eventually relented and passed him one of the cans, which he cracked open and chinked against hers. “Cheers. Here’s to a successful autumn catalogue.”

“Of course. I know that I can trust you to work your usual magic. Any good finds? How did you get on with the newbies?”

“Uff.” Gold grimaced and closed the laptop that he was viewing the pictures on. “If Zelena West asks to come back for a second catalogue, you’re going to have to find some way of politely declining. I’m beginning to worry that she might be stalking me. It’s a good job I don’t have a pet rabbit or I’d fear coming home tonight and finding it on the stove.”

“Ah yes, I thought she looked familiar. She was that rather voracious one who was at the studio a couple of months ago, wasn’t she? She looked like she was about to eat you alive then. But you survived this encounter at least.”

“Yes. At least this time she actually had a few clothes on, which is better than at the studio. I’ve been doing catalogue and boudoir shoots for longer than I care to remember but I’ve never felt quite as uncomfortable as I did with her. I swear that she was trying to get it to border on pornography.”

“Well, if she calls back wanting another catalogue opportunity then I’ll suggest that to her as a secondary career.”

Gold couldn’t help laughing; no matter what trials and tribulations he might have gone through during the day, Ella could always be counted upon to make him smile when it came down to it.

“What about the others?” she pressed. “We didn’t have all that many newcomers this season, I’m a bit disappointed. Not that our regular ladies aren’t lovely, but part of the appeal of Devilish is that anyone can model for us, so I’d hoped that we’d get a bit more turnaround.”

Gold opened the laptop and hastily closed down Zelena’s photos, instead bringing up the ones that he had taken of Belle.

“Belle’s good,” he said, gazing at that first snap that he had taken of her somewhat unawares, curled up in the armchair with her book. “She was nervous, obviously, but she had a nice natural quality to her. I enjoyed the time I spent with her.”

Ella peered over his shoulder at Belle’s photos. “Yes, she’s a natural,” Ella agreed. “With just a little more confidence she could definitely model for us again.” Her smile turned a little sly and Gold raised an eyebrow, a little worried by her intentions.

“I don’t like that expression on you, Ella. It makes me seriously considering running full tilt in the opposite direction from whatever it is that you have in mind.”

“I am a paragon of innocence!” Ella protested. “But what I will say is that she’s very beautiful, and I’ve known you long enough to know that you think she’s very beautiful too.”

Gold sighed. There was no use trying to deny it, not with Ella, who could see straight through any kind of mask he tried to put on.

“Yes,” he said. “She’s very beautiful.”

“So…” Ella’s grin was nearing Cheshire Cat proportions. “Remember that we’ve been talking about carpe diem for weeks and you’ve still not actually gone out and done anything about it?”

“Yes, there’s no need to remind me, but this is hardly the correct circumstance for such a thing.”

“Why not? You think she’s beautiful and you enjoyed the time you spent with her. Surely that’s a pre-curser to wanting to spend more time with her, possibly in a romantic way.”

“Ella, I can’t. It would be incredibly unethical. I’m a photographer and she’s a model. Not even a professional one. There’s a level of trust there that can’t be broken and I’m not going to go against that rule just because you think I need to get laid.”

“You do need to get laid, but that’s not what I was suggesting,” Ella said. She sighed and patted his hand, draining the rest of her gin and tonic. “I can totally understand where you’re coming from and please don’t think that I’m not worshipfully grateful for the highly professional relationship that you’ve maintained with all my models since we started doing the catalogue. You have been a pleasure to work with and I know that you’ll continue just to do more of the same. But I’m not encouraging you to take advantage of the photographer and model relationship. I’m encouraging you to see her as a person beyond the camera and maybe build up a person to person relationship with her.”

Gold sighed, scrolling through Belle’s photos again. He could see the gradual release of tension in her frame and as he looked through the progression of pictures, from the turquoise set to the pink, he could see her begin to enjoy herself, to let go of her inhibitions and celebrate being who she was. She had been a joy to work with, but that was no guarantee that she would want to spend any time with him outside of the studio. He knew nothing about her; she might already be in a relationship.

The optimistic part of his brain that so rarely saw the light of day reminded him that if he never tried, he would never get anywhere, and if he didn’t make a move and ask her out, then he would never know if she was available or interested. He wouldn’t lose anything if he asked, but he definitely wouldn’t gain anything if he didn’t.

“I don’t know anything about her,” he protested.

“Well, I didn’t know anything about you when we first met, but we made the effort to get to know each other and now look where we are.”

“Drinking canned gin and tonic in an empty office looking at pictures of women in their underwear,” Gold said dryly.

“Precisely. I’d call that a good place to be, personally. Of course you don’t know anything about her, you’ve spent all of an hour with her. Why don’t you take the chance to learn something about her?”

“I’ve got no way of getting in touch with her without getting her contact details from you, and that would be creepy,” Gold said.

“Ok, good point, well made. I’ll give you that one. But I can tell you that she’s local, so you never know. You might bump into her in the post office. And we can always hope that she’ll come back for the next catalogue. At which point you can ask her for her contact details yourself.”

“At which point we’re back to being model and photographer and such a thing is completely off the cards,” Gold snapped.

There was silence for a while as they both digested the other’s words.

“Ok,” Ella said, graciously conceding defeat. “I won’t say anything more about it. Just have faith that for all I say about going out and making your own happiness, fate does sometimes have odd ways of bringing people together, so don’t try to fight it. You did great work today, Aiden. Not that you don’t always. Thank you.”

Gold smiled.

“Any time, Ella.”

She said her goodnights and left him then; although it was her office that they were using, Gold had his own key to the place from many nights spent working late on catalogue and promotional material together, when he wanted to keep going for just that little bit longer and didn’t want to lose his concentration by packing up his things and moving them back to his house or his own office. More often than not, in those situations, Ella would come back in of a morning and find him still sitting there, having worked through the night and fallen asleep at the desk.

This time though, he did not return to his work as soon as Ella left. He was still thinking about Belle; he couldn’t get her out of his head. Would it really hurt to take the bull by the horns for once in his life?

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Getting Hot with the Scot by Melonie Johnson

Sometimes in Love #1

Cassie Crow and her friends have been planning their trip to Europe for years and finally, about five years after they graduate from college, they have gone on their dream trip together.

This book begins in Scotland and is the first in a series of books that will no doubt showcase each of Cassie’s friends and how they find the person who will become t heir partner in life. But, this is Cassie and Logan’s story.

Cassie is in a Castle and happens upon a hunky kilted Scot inside a library wall. Is he a time traveler or??? Well...when Cassie realizes that the tall gorgeous redhead with the brogue is Logan Reid, prankster extraordinaire, she put the kibosh on his hopes of putting the impromptu kiss they shared onto his website. Not wanting to give up on getting her to sign the release form he puts the moves on to see if he can change her mind. Little does he know that HER goal is to have a torrid European fling while on her dream vacation. And thus begins their journey toward a HES...maybe. Beginning in Scotland they move on to England, seems to end, picks up again in Chicago and continues on from there. How they manage to find their HEA involves some maneuvering, includes Cassie’s friends and sets the reader up for book two that will be the story of one of Logan’s friends getting together with one of Cassie’s friends – these two meet on the European vacation, too.

This book had a New Adult feel to it so my guess is it will be a favorite with those who read this genre.

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the ARC – This is my honest review.

3-4 Stars  

ABOUT THE BOOK:

The first in a new series, a journalist focused on her career and a sexy Scottish comedian turn a one night stand into forever.

Cassie Crow leaves for vacation with two goals: fill up her empty charm bracelet and have a one night stand. For once, she wants to have fun instead of obsessively checking her work email. And kissing a man in a castle who’s dressed as a Scottish Highlander is the perfect solution.

Except when that man turns out to be Logan Reid, the host of a popular sketch show—and Cassie has just been roped into his latest prank. She wants nothing to do with his antics, but that was a really great kiss, and one night together couldn’t hurt.

It’s clear that one night isn’t enough and when Logan’s show brings him closer to Cassie, they decide to give dating a try. Can the woman who’s focused solely on her career and the man who refuses to take life seriously make it work?

EXCERPT

Would you look at that? The man is wearing a kilt.

Note to self: Cassie Crow—be careful what you wish for.

The man groaned again and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight now cutting across the hidden al- cove.

“Are you all right?”

“I will be fine once ye douse that blasted light.” He squinted up at her. “Be ye a new chambermaid?”

Chambermaid? She eyed the wide sleeves and open neck of the old-fashioned piratey shirt he wore. “Not sure what kind of weird-ass stuff you’re into buddy, but I don’t do RPG.”

“Weird . . . ass?” His dark red brows drew together as he shaped his mouth around the letters. “Are pee gee?”

“Role playing games. You know, like cosplay or what- ever.” She pointed at him. “Look, you’re the one wearing that get-up and talking like a reject from Macbeth.”

He narrowed his eyes at her finger. “Be ye a witch?” “What did you call me?”

With another groan, he lurched forward. Oh God, what if he was hurt? For all she knew he was a member of some

historic castle tour who got lost in a back passageway and hit his head. She leaned down to inspect him for bruises.

He threw a hand out, palm up, warding her off. “Back away, sorceress,” he hissed.

“Seriously?” She slapped his hand out of the way. “Here, let me help you out of there.” Cassie tugged gently on his shoulder. The voluminous shirt was loose, but she could feel—and appreciate—the thick spread of muscle beneath the soft fabric.

Just my luck, I finally run into a hot Highlander, and he’s delusional.

The man waved off her assistance and struggled to his feet, shaking a wild tousle of thick, red hair out of his eyes. Cassie never fancied herself to be a ginger girl, but it worked on him . . . or maybe that was the kilt talking. She eyed the swath of plaid fabric wrapped around his hips and wondered, like any female in her position would, what might or might not be under there. Reluctantly, she raised her gaze and caught him scrutinizing her in return.

“What be these strange breeks ye wear?” he asked, moving in a circle around her.

Cassie swore she could feel the weight of each of his eyeballs resting on her denim-clad backside. Fair enough. After a prolonged moment, she glanced over her shoulder. “Get a good look?”

“Aye.” He swallowed. “’Tis most unseemly, lass.” He shook his head, gaze still glued to her ass.

“They’re called jeans.” She pivoted to face him. “Are you for real?”

He met her gaze, his answer falling from his lips in a deep, rich brogue with trilling r’s that curled her toes, “Aye, lass, I’m real.”

Cassie’s heart hiccupped. Of course he’s real. Unless

those shots were stronger than I thought. “Were you at the whisky tasting?”

“Whisky?” His green-gold eyes lit with interest. “Do ye have whisky for me, then? I could use a wee dram. Be a good lass and fetch it for me.”

“Ha! I think you’ve had enough, mister. Is that how you ended up stuck in there?” Even as she said this, Cassie doubted it. She didn’t smell a hint of alcohol on him, though she did pick up other pleasant smells. Mint and clove and man and . . . Stop being ridiculous.

His broad shoulders lifted and dropped. “I dinna ken.” “How long were you in there?”

Another shrug.

Cassie dragged her attention away from the wide curve of his shoulders and leaned past him, inspecting the dark, narrow space behind the bookshelf.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, panic edg- ing his voice. “Nay, lass. Doona be going in there.”

“Why not?” She inched forward and tried to get a bet- ter look.

“It canna be safe.” He tugged on her wrist again, his fingers warm and firm.

Tiny butterflies danced along the path where his skin touched hers. She brushed away the tingling sensation and slipped out of his grip, careful not to snag her bracelet. “Well, you were in there, and you appear to have man- aged.”

“Are ye daft, wench? I was trapped!”

She sniffed, not sure she liked being referred to as a wench, and frowned up at him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

He closed his eyes and slumped against the shelf. “I canna recall anything afore the moment I woke to find my-

self crammed within yonder wall.” He blinked and fo- cused intently on her. “The moment I found you, lass.”

Cassie decided she liked being called lass much better than wench, especially when he was looking at her like that. Gazes locked, her other senses sharpened, heighten- ing her awareness of his body and its proximity to hers. She cleared her throat. “Hm. I think it’d be more accurate to say I’m the one who found you.” Telling herself she was only searching for injuries, she reached up and tentatively skimmed her palms along his temples, her fingers trailing his scalp.

“Looking for devil’s horns?” The man cocked one wicked brow at her as he raised his arms to mirror her movements, running his hands over her head and shoul- ders before brushing his palms down her back. “Ye’ve naught got any fairy wings, so I’d say we’re even. In fact,” he whispered against her hair, standing so close the low burr of his voice became a purr in her own chest, “ye feel perfect to me.”

Like the migrating monarchs her dad studied, the but- terflies made a return trip, enveloping her in a fluttery haze. She shivered. Whether it was the Scot or the scotch or both, Cassie didn’t care. He was here and she was here, and damn it all, it was about time she skipped to the good stuff. With a forceful mental click, Cassie turned off her brain, tilted her chin up, and caught his mouth with hers.

He made a low sound in the back of his throat, of pro- test or surprise, she wasn’t sure. But then his hands settled at her waist, and he returned the kiss. His mouth was somehow soft and hard at the same time, and when he slipped his tongue between her lips, she felt more light- headed than if she’d downed every shot of whisky that had been on that tasting list.

Cassie rolled her tongue against his, savoring the deli- cious contact. He met her thrust for thrust, deepening the kiss until she was swept away on a tidal wave of desire. This. This is what I’ve been waiting for. She clung to him, hands gripping his shoulders, swimming in sensa- tion, drowning in it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

A Star Wars junkie and Shakespeare groupie who quotes both Yoda and the Bard with equal aplomb, award-winning author Melonie Johnson—aka #thewritinglush—is a two-time RWA Golden Heart® finalist who loves dark coffee, cheap wine, and expensive beer. And margaritas. And mimosas. And mules. Basically any cocktail that starts with the letter m. She met her future husband in that most romantic of places—the mall—when they were teenagers working in stores across the hall from each other. They went on to live happily ever after in the suburbs of Chicago with two redhead daughters, a dog that’s more like a small horse, and a trio of hermit crabs. After earning her Bachelor of Arts magna cum laude from Loyola University Chicago, Melonie taught high school English and Theatre in the northern Chicago suburbs for several years. Now she writes smart and funny contemporary romance and moonlights as an audiobook narrator under the pseudonym, Evelyn Eibhlin.

Buy this book: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250193094

Author website: https://meloniejohnson.com/

Author Twitter: @MelonieJohnson

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/meloniejohnson/

Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MelonieWrites/

SMP Romance Twitter: @SMPRomance or @heroesnhearts

SMP Romance Website: https://heroesandheartbreakers.com/

[tellerford13]

MO ASTOR- CHAPTER 22

We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.” The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC. We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us. We will be posting on our Tumblr where we’ll have fun pictures from time to time as well. http://tellerford13.tumblr.com We’ll also be taking requests for one shots, preferences or imagines for all things Sons at our other Tumblr, so check it out and send your thoughts!http://tellerford13oneshots.tumblr.com/ And just for fun, we’ve decided to start a Pinterest for the story! So if you want a glimpse at our girls and see into our world, check it out! https://www.pinterest.com/tellerford/

                                                        A/N: 

Surprise! A huge thanks to all who’ve sent us amazing reviews and comments. You truly keep the muse happy. Again an early Valentine ’s Day to you. <3 We hope you’re enjoying the one on one time with our couples.

                                           Mo Astor Chapter 22

Lee

The sound of the phone makes me grunt. I glance over and realize it’s still dark out.

“Who the fuck is calling you at three in the morning?” Jax groans. He reaches over me and picks up the vibrating menace off the night stand. “Oh shit.” He chuckles. “Baby J! How the hell are you?”

I sit up, instantly awake. “Give me the phone.”

“No, I want to talk to her,” he says turning his back.  “Are you having fun? Yeah? Can you even walk.” He barks a laugh. “What? It’s a legitimate question. I’m concerned for your well-being. He treating you good? Is his family?” He huffs. “Cause it’s my job Baby J. Says the piece of slip Ma signed when Sugar went to jail for two years. This shit is official. I’m the big brother.”

I shake my head and wipe away the sleep from my eyes. He loves to pull out the paper issue. It’s his ace in the hole. I remember one time when Journee had been hurt and was in the hospital he’d nearly taken someone’s head off when they told him, family only. The staff never made that mistake again.

“Yeah. She’s here. …Good.” His voice changes. It’s softer and less confident. “Yeah, I’m glad too. Shut up J.”

I laugh. The infamous I’m just saying has been followed by Shut up J for as long as I can remember.

“Here. Talk to your sister,” he says thrusting the phone at me.

Her giggles sound in my ear.

“You sound happy.”

She sighs. “I am. You sound sleepy. Did I interrupt play time?”

I snicker. “No, that was before. I mean why do you think we’re exhausted?”

She laughs. “Seriously, though, it’s been good?”

“Oh yeah,” I sneak a look at Jax who I know is listening to every word despite his prone position.

“Ugh, he’s there creeping on our convo isn’t he?”

“You know it.”

“Just like when were in high school. We should make him worry.”

“You’re so evil.”

“It’s why you love me so much isn’t it?”

“One of the many reasons why my love. How’s the honey moooon?” I sing the last part in a high pitch voice, and we both laugh. I can’t believe my best friend is a married woman.

“It’s a dream I don’t want to wake up from. The place we stayed in was right out of a Jane Austen book. I mean the hotel details, rich green velvet canopy over the four-poster bed, and a bathroom to die for. I mean the claw-footed bath tub had silver legs!”

“Holy crap, Hubby went all out.”

“Umm yeah, in more ways than one.  The Kitty has been used and abused on a daily basis.”

“OI. I took care of it after every time.” Chibs’ Scottish brogue chimes in over the line.

“I was getting there, Daddy. I never said I didn’t enjoy it either,” She says in a coquettish tone that makes me laugh.

“He’s carried me to warm salt filled sweet scented baths nearly every day. How he expects me to return to everyday life after this, I do not know.”

“I’ll do it every day if you want,” Chibs says from the background.

“Um no I already have a hitch in my giddy up, thank you.”

“You guys are so damn adorable,” I say unable to keep from smiling.

“I want to know about you two! I wait my entire life for this shit to happen and it all goes down, and I leave. How fair is that?”

I picture her full lower lip poked out and her eyes wide.

“You know I’ll give you the play by play.”

“You’d better.”

“How’s his family?”

“Great, Hey I’m an Aunt now. Padric is my nephew.”

“Oh is he cute?”

She laughs. “He’s just five years younger, so I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”

“Hah, your son is only a couple years younger, so it’s clear you’ll have an unconventional family.”

“Ain’t that the truth? I love him. He reminds me of Chibs, and his sister is really cool too. She gave us a baby blanket!”

“Something you want to tell me there Journee?”

“Noo. Not that kind. This is a handmade quilt. It’s a family tradition. Family lore has it, you’ll conceive as long as you’re under the blanket.”

“Aahhh babe. That’s really sweet.”

“Right? I’m sorry to call you so late. I forgot about the time difference. I just realized I hadn’t talked to you in nearly four days and had a mini panic attack.”

“It’s okay we know you’ve been busy.”

“Yes, but the question is, have you?”

“Dirty girl.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“That’s a hell yes,” I say excited about the news I have to share. This feels better than anything I ever hoped for. Kick was a close second. I could’ve been content with him for the rest of my life, but Jax…Jax makes me happy in a way I never thought possible. I want to spill my guts to Journee right now, but I can’t.

“I’ll ask a question, and you say yes or no.”

“Okay.”

“Am I the only one still limping?”

I choke on my laughter. “Nu-uh.”

“Good, you wench. I was mortified at the second wedding until I saw you come hobbling along. You can’t leave me alone in this.”

“You’ll get used to it, I promise,” I assure her.

“Is it the best?”

“Oh yeah, for a bunch of different reasons.”

“I knew it!”

“Is this a fact check or a conversation Detective Telford?”

“Both.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“Shut up. You’re dying to give up the info. Stupid head is the one preventing our talk-a-thon.”

“It’s so true.”

“First thing when I come back?”

“You know it, babe.”

“I miss you,” she says.

I sigh. “I miss you too my friend.”

“Daddy’s looking impatient. I should go now.”

“I didn’t say a word.” Chibs adds.

“Wasn’t your mouth that was looking impatient.”

I laugh. “Okay, Mrs. Telford. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more,” I say as we disconnect.

“Baby J sounds really fucking happy,” Jax says.

“I know, she deserves it.”

“They both do,” He agrees.

“Well since we’re up,” Jax says as he rolls me onto my back and sets the phone on the nightstand.

“You want to play twenty-one questions?” I tease.

He parts my legs with his knee.

“Yeah, I do. Starting with, how does this feel?” He sucks the skin on my neck into his mouth, and I moan.

“It’s okay.”

His chuckle vibrates against my skin, and he nudges my core with his knee. “How ‘bout this?” he asks as I roll my hips, seeking the friction.

“Warmer.”

He runs a hand down my body and parts my slick lips. He circles my entrance once, and I’m lost. I shudder as he eases two fingers in and starts a rhythm I can’t help but follow.

“Jax,” I whine, needing more.

“Ask me for it baby.”

“I need you inside me now.”

He drives home, and I gasp as he fills me to the brim. I dig my nails into his shoulder and raise my hips. I flex around him and whimper as he hits the right spot inside me. Our bodies come together as he bottoms out over and over, tapping that spot that has me shaking and breathless.

“Oh, Jax.”

“So damn right. Jesus, Lee.” He growls as he moves faster and faster. The bed post taps the wall, and my lungs threaten to give as I bounce between screams and moans.

“So good.” I’m chanting as my heart beats so fast I struggle to suck down enough oxygen and my entire body tenses as I crest the wave. He thrusts home once more, and I shatter, shaking as I cream on his thickness. He grunts and bites my shoulder as he fucks me through my orgasm before he releases inside me.

***

Journee

I’m sad to say goodbye to Padric and Greer. They grew on me quickly. With their quick tongues, teasing manner, and familiar features, it’s easy to feel as if I’ve known them for a lifetime. This was about more than a family reunion. My old man was making his peace with his past, and it was a beautiful thing. I swear years have lifted off him. He’s more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him be as we drive away from the quaint village.

“Did you have a good time love?” he asks.

“I did. I hope Kerrianne likes our presents.” Together we’d picked out a leather bound journal, and a pretty lace dress.

“I think she will. It’s the thought that counts. Being able to have a way to communicate with her is more than I ever dared hope for in me lifetime. All this time I worried she’d thought I’d forgotten about her.”

“I think she knows better than that, Filip. Fiona might be sleeping with the enemy, but Kerrianne is surrounded by those who love and know you. They’d tell her the way of things.”

“You don’t know the power Jimmy O has over people. He’d make a man turn against his own mother if it pleased him. All to avoid his wrath. The man is the devil incarnate. I’ve seen many things in my life, but ne’er was there a man so evil as this one.”

The words send a chill through my bones. He reaches across the car and takes my hand. “But you don’t have to worry about him, love. I’ll kill him with me bare hands before I let him breathe the same air as you.”

I lean over and kiss his cheek, humbled by his words. I’m used to fighting. The only girl surrounded by men I had to fight to be heard, fight to do what I want and fight to be seen as more than a pretty piece of ass and the fastest way to climb your way up the GB ladder. It’s why I never dated in-house. Being the princess puts a target on your back. I wanted to be loved for me, not what an association with me would bring them. Of course, that was only for those brave enough to stand up to my father which was few and far in-between. Menace is not a man to be fucked with.

He taught me how to bid my time, protect myself, and unleash the primal warrior inside of me. I often wondered if I was a disappointment. I don’t have the boisterous countenance of both my parents. I like to sit back and exam people. I loosen up after a bit, but I don’t trust easily or take to many right off the bat. That’s what happens when you see the worst people have to offer too much. My father is the equalizer. I know better than most the evil men can do, and how fast some can turn. It’s why Lee, Jax, and I are so close. Regardless of the petty fights and growing pains, we’ve always had one another’s backs. There’s power in that.

There were times when I felt like they were the only ones I could count on to remain. I dated, but it never panned out or failed to launch altogether. We grew up together, the four of us. I had the biggest crush on Opie. I mean how could I not? The gentle giant had a sweet streak in him, and he always protected me. When we kissed my freshman year, I swore I saw stars. We were on the cusp of something when his bitch of a mother made him leave. I knew he’d be back, so I waited, pined, and planned out life out in my head. Only, he returned with another name on his lips, Donna. The embarrassment and shame singed me as surely as a flame.

I went internal. Then Chibs showed up, and a mysterious man with healing scars, dark countenance, and accent. I have a way with healing. It’s not unusual for me to patch the brothers. Hell, in another life, I might’ve been a nurse. These are things I learned from my mother.  Somewhere between tending him and crushing in my quiet way, we came to an understanding. He tolerated me, taught me things about cars, and I found a way to get over the perceived rejection from the man I once idolized. The man who pulled away from the close-knit group cultivated since we were kids.

Right now with my heart full and my future bright, I couldn’t be more grateful for the way things turned out. A few months earlier I wouldn’t have said that. I’d begun to wonder if perhaps there was something wrong with me. If maybe Kyle had been right. The funny thing about verbal abuse is, it ramps up. It never happens from the start. It creeps in like a fungus until it attaches itself to your psyche and begins to grow. Then it’s a part of you, and getting rid of it is a bitch. Because once you clear yourself off and it gets dark and cold again, it resurfaces, and the cleansing process begins all over again. It’s different with my husband. He makes me feel like I am enough.

We left early, so I know he has something else planned for the day.

“Is this the way we came?”

“No, we’re going back to a different location love. I would never forgive myself If I didn’t take you here before we went home.”

“Is it the reason why you chose my dress today?” I ask.

“Aye.”

He was almost bashful as he set out the lacey off white dress with a ruffled top, ruffled layers, and a slight train. I thought it was a bit fancy. Especially when he insisted I wear a floral crown headband around my hair, but he asks me for so little I complied with a smile and no questions. I pull the light weight heather gray shawl closer as the air begins to warm with the day and the sun. I’m excited to see where he’ll lead. He returns with our bags, a wide smile, and a bouquet of peach colored Gerber daisies and white flowers.

“Oh my God, they’re beautiful. You didn’t have to get me anything,” I say as my cheeks heat.

“Aye, I did. I aim to spoil you.” He hands them over with a sweet kiss, and I swear I fall even deeper in love with him. I place them in my lap, take a picture and send it to Lee with the text.

Just because flowers. I have the best husband in the world.

As we drive the countryside changes and begins to yield to a dazzling display of picturesque water surrounded by green land reflected in the waters like a mirror.

“That’s the Loch.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Aye. Wait to you see where we’re staying.”

We pull up to the white building nestled among the rolling green hills, and I swear I’m in a dream. This is the stuff of legends. I expect a unicorn to come prancing down to greet us any moment.

“Do you like it?” he asks quietly.  “I know it’s a lot smaller than the last hotel. But it’s got so much character.”

“I love it. It’s perfect.”

He smiles, and the uncertainty is swept away. “We need to get checked in if we’re going to make our boat ride.”

I scramble out of the car, and he laughs. I suddenly understand why he wanted me to wear this dress. It fits perfectly with the landscape. I turn, taking it all in. The click of a shutter draws my attention.

“Pose for me, my bonnie lass. I want to remember you here forever.”

***

Lee

I frown. It’s too quiet. I’m not used to the lack of noise. Usually, if I’m not working, I’m at the clubhouse, out with Journee, or at least talking to her on the phone. It was a slow day at the office, and I’m all caught up on projects. I flick through the channels and settle on The Fast and The Furious. The sound of a bike in the driveway perks me up. Jax! I slip off the couch and hurry to the front door. I peer out and find myself surprised. Tig? This could be a good thing, or a bad thing depending on his mood. I’m always happy to see him, but those nights when he needs me to pull him back from the edge, sadden me. He suffers for what he does to keep the club safe, but most will never know it.

I open the door.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey Tiggy. What’s going on?”

“Needed some quiet, ya know?”

I nod my head. There are times when the boys want a break from it all. My house is always open to them for that reason. It’s why I don’t downsize to an apartment.

“Come on in. You have perfect timing. I was just thinking it was too quiet.”

“Yeah? You missing wifey?”

“Big time. You missing hubby?”

He laughs. “Yeah I do. It’s too quiet without that Scottish fucker around.” We head inside, and I plop on the couch. He lands beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. His warmth and scent are familiar, and I’m lulled into a relaxed state.

“So where’s pretty boy?” I shrug. “In his skin?”

“You ain’t worried at all?”

“No, I trust him.”

He grunts, scowling.

“Why don’t you say whatever you have on your mind Tiggy.”

“Just not sold on this one, baby doll. The boy gets around and breaks hearts. Hell, look at Wendy. She didn’t deserve what he did to her. All she ever did was love him. And I ain't one to be soft on broads. She has her problems, but she never did wrong by him.”

“I know. And I don’t approve of how that went down, but it’s got nothing to do with the two of us. Tell me you didn’t think this might happen one day.”

“A long time ago when you were younger, yes. Now…not so much.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to see you hurt, or be put at odds with my brother. If he does wrong by you, there’s going to be problems.”

“He won’t.” As I say it, I realize I believe it wholeheartedly. “If I thought he would, we never would’ve happened.”

He sighs.

“People change. You know that.”

“Yeah. I’m watching him.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything different Papa bear,” I say as he chuckles. “Is that the only reason why you came over?”

“No. The brothers were getting on my nerves. Needed a break.”

“Then hang out here with me for a while and watch some TV.”

“What is this crap?” he asks.

“The Fast and the Furious?”

“Crappy rice burners? Really Doll? Thought you had better taste than that.”

“Shut up. I like this series.”

He rolls his eyes but settles in and goes quiet. It’s nice to get some quality time in with the man who I think of as my Pops.

We end up ordering pizza and cracking open the six pack in my fridge. After the torture of The Fast and the Furious, he makes me watch Harley Davidson and the Marlboro man for the millionth time. It’s endearing the way some things never change.

“I don’t know why you love that movie so much,” I say as I roll my eyes.

“Are you kidding me? It’s a classic.”

“Yeah, because they didn’t know any better.”

He holds his hands over his heart. “You’re wounding me here.”

Another bike pulls into the driveway.

“And that’s my cue.”

“What, you can’t be in the same room with us?”

“I’m not ready to watch the two of you suck face.” He shudders. “Thanks for the break.” He leans forward kisses my forehead and stands.

“Anytime, old man.”

He winks and heads to the door. I hear a muffled conversation with the voice I recognize as Jax, and a few minutes later he walks inside.

“Looks like I’m late to the party.”

“Nah just hanging out with my Pop.”

He nods his head. “Still weird to see Tig in a different light.”

“Yeah, well get used to it cause he’s always going to be around.”

“I hear you loud and clear.”

I relax. “Good.” It’s not secret the two of them have issues. He’s Clay’s boy through and through, and Jax represents the new change coming for the gavel. To say it caused friction is putting it lightly. I hope for my sake they can learn to play nice when I’m around at least. “I know there’s no love lost between the two of you, but he means a lot to me. He’s always been there when I needed him, and I want you to work on getting along.”

“That’s a lot to ask. We got a history of butting heads. Look I don’t think he’s a bad guy, we’re just after two completely different things when it comes to the club. Makes shit tense.”

“Maybe you should try harder to get him to see your side instead of baiting him. He’s smart. You show him why and it’s legit…He might surprise you by getting on board.”

“Naw, he’s blinded by Clay.”

“So make him see the light.” I insist.

He sighs. “Maybe. Enough about Tig. I came here to be with you.”

He wraps his arms around me and leans in for a sweet kiss.

I let the moment pass for now, but I’m nowhere near done working on him.

***

Journee

The night before we leave we’re in Galloway.

“I know you Chibs, what’s the reason for this being our last stop?”

He glances at the sky. “You’ll see soon enough. It’ll bring us back to the start.”

I tilt my head and ignore the temptation of checking my phone. “Come on, love.  It’ll get a bit chilly tonight. We need to change into something warmer.”

Back at our room, I slip into comfortable black leggings, gray boot socks, with brown boots we bought here and a warm emerald green sweater I’d fallen in love with. As we make our way outside the hotel with a flask of something to warm us up I tilt my head back and gasp.  The stars overhead are so close I swear I could touch them.

“Surprise.”

I turn to him and smile. “It did all start under the stars didn’t it?”

“Aye with a bold little minx who kissed me first to my shock and delight.”

I laugh. Only Chibs could pull off that word and be so damn rugged and sexy.

“Come on, the view from the observatory is like nowhere else in the world.” He slings two blankets over his shoulder, grabs a flashlight and offers me his arm.

I wrap my arms around his as we make our way from the hotel. It’s beautiful here, quiet, clean, and fresh in a way California could never be. I’d never been too far from my home, so this is mind-blowing. I inhale the cool air and soak up the experience.

“Do you know why the stars are so vivid love?”

“No.”

“Because Scotland enjoys some of the darkest skies in Europe. It gives them a background to really shine against.”

“Oh.”

We find a spot, and he puts down a blanket. We lay on our backs, and he covers us with the other one. I gaze up at the sky, enchanted by the diamond dotted velvet canvas. The beauty steals my breath. On the edges, I see what looks like a rainbow. Brilliant violet reds, and greenish yellows encompass the area. “Oh. Oh, my God. Is that what I think it is?” My voice trembles and my eyes fill with tears at the stunning display before us. The lights dance and glimmer, like fairies come out to play.  

“Aye, the Northern lights. I was hoping she’d show herself to us tonight. If you took all those stars in the sky and added them into one blazing ball of light, it might come close to the way I feel about you.”

“Oh, Filip.” I turn toward him, and our lips meet. I taste forever on his tongue, an eternity in the shape and feel of his lips. I cup his face, tracing the memorizes planes and the scar tissue.

“Can I have you here, Lennan? With the stars as our witnesses?”

“I am yours anytime any place, my love.”

“You do things to me heart that should be illegal, little lass.”

We fumble with belts, buttons and tights until he’s buried inside me. Pinned by his weight and the tights and boots around my legs, I can only take everything he offers. My breath stutters in my lungs as I watch the sky move above me. The old magic of this land and the man from it inhabits me. I say a prayer to keep this man forever, and I swear I feel an answer in my bones. As I fall to pieces and he fills me to the brim, I know I’ve been granted my wish.

I urge you to watch this video, so you can get the full experience of this scene. https://www.visitscotland.com/see-do/landscapes-nature/dark-sky-parks-sites/#&gid=1videoitems&pid=1

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GIYSY ITS DONE IM FINISHED IM FREEEEE

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"I dont support trump but i agree with his gender mutilation policy" WHAT? WHAT?????? WHAT WAS THAT?????? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY???

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Favourite socks are more hole than sock this is devestating and I think I've got issues

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I don't like how many people in fandom erase a characters ace identity

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Dude I can't wait to be able to put my posters and prints on a wall in my room, I'm too scared to because what if I get told off

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Weeee went to the wrong shop first cause I now have a massive box I have to lug around the city 😭

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Always found it funny people can just. Hate a character i usually like pretty much all the characters in something, like even in media I don't like im still neutral on them. I don't think I've ever hated a character really

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I have a question. Why do so many people tag their smut with ace Jon. Why is that a thing . Am I missing something here