#they trimmed her nails! and brushed her teeth! and she was POLITE ABOUT IT even though we don't do that enough at home!

[llatimeria]

BABY WEE CLEAN AND FRESH

[notyetneedcoffee]

Rearranging His Plans

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Smut

Author’s Note: I was sent several requests to do a follow up to Not What He Had Planned. So, ask and ye shall receive!

ooooo

You woke to the sound of Steve’s voice. Head lifting off the pillow, you quickly realized he was on the phone in the other room. With a sigh, you stretched, feeling every sore muscle and delightful ache. Glancing at the clock confirmed you’d only slept for about an hour. After the intense encounter in the little conference room, Steve spirited you away to his room to thoroughly show you how much he’d been wanting you. After, you couldn’t help drifting off.

The pillow smelled like him. You breathed in deep, smiling. Every muscle felt heavy, relaxed. The man was good, no denying it.

“No, Nick!” Steve’s voice hardened. “I’m not letting it go. Just answer the question.”

What? He was talking to Fury, actually he sounded angry with Fury. You got up and snagged Steve’s pullover from the floor. Slipping it on, you padded closer to the door. Steve was staring out the window in living area of his suite. He wore only sweats that rested low on his hips. His strong bare shoulders bunched with tension.

“Wait.” Steve growled. “Karen Ellison was the investigating agent? Did anyone bother to verify her findings?” He ran his fingers through his hair, listening. “Well, I have reason to doubt the ‘unbiased’ nature of her report.” He sighed. “Let’s just say she’d didn’t like an answer I gave her.”  

You leaned against the doorway, wrapping your arms around yourself. If Steve didn’t want you eavesdropping, he would have closed the door.  

“Well, I’m telling you those people were friends and family. Your report is wrong. Check again.” Steve ordered. He hung up the cell and tossed in on the counter.  

“Thank you for that.” You said quietly.  

Steve turned around, his hand on his hips. A look of frustration marred his face. “I had to try.”

You stepped closer to him, slipping your hands around his trim waist. You rubbed your nose along his collar bone. “At least you know I’m not some tramp running around divulging company secrets.”

“Y/N, I never…” Steve began to protest, but you rose up on your toes and covered his mouth with your own. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. He sighed as his tongue slid over yours, his lips tender.  

His right hand moved down, pulling you against him. Drifting over your hip, you felt his fingers reach the bottom of the shirt. A little moan escaped your throat as his hand gripped your bare ass. The kiss deepened, and he arched you back, curling around you.  

“Damn, you look good in my shirt.” Steve smiled against your lips.  

“Yeah?” You rolled your hips against him. “It was nice to wake up in your bed. Of course, it would have been even better if you’d been there.”  

“I was coming back.” Steve kissed your neck. Leaving a wet trail to you ear. “I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon. I may need to wear you out more.”

You giggled as he turned you around and pushed you by the hips back towards the bedroom. “You’re insatiable.”

“Can’t help it.” His arms wrapped around you. “I’ve been dying to have you for, well, since you got here.”

“Wait.” You wound your fingers with his. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve sat back on his bed, back against the headboard. He pulled you down onto his lap, giving you a silly grin. “I remember when I walked into the briefing room and saw you arguing with Tony about baseball. I spent the whole meeting wondering what you looked like in a pony tail and baseball cap.”

“Seriously?” You laughed.  

“Yeah. I about fell over when you showed up at the bar for Maria’s birthday that weekend looking just like I imagined.” He pressed his lips against your shoulder. “You were so damn cute. God, I just wanted to kiss you right there.” Steve’s tongue slid along the sensitive skin just behind and below your ear, making you purr. His voice dropped, thick and rich, as his fingers dug into your backside. “Those jeans made me want to sink my teeth in your ass, too.”  

“And here I thought you were so innocent.” You shifted in his lap so you straddled him.  

“Not so innocent, no.” Steve nipped your lower lip. His hands, strong and hot, moved up your legs. His thumbs rubbed into your inner thighs. You smiled and nuzzled your nose against his temple. He brushed your hair away from your face, pushing your back enough to stare intently in your eyes.  

He grew serious. “I think that I had something to do with the fiasco this morning.”

“You know this Agent Ellison?” You bit your lip.

Steve sighed. “I should have turned her in, or told Maria, or something.” He shrugged. “I guess I didn’t know what to do.”

“What happened?”

“She was assigned to one of my logistics teams for a safehouse setup. I thought I was just being, I don’t know, me? Polite. Nice.” His eyes drifted down to where his fingers played with a loose string on the hem of his shirt that you wore.  

“She thought you were taking an interest in her.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Having a big strong handsome hero treat you with old fashion manners and sweet charm is pretty irresistible to most women.”  

“You put me off for months,” he pouted.  

“I am not most women.”

A smile spread across his face as he pulled you closer. “No. You definitely are not.”

Even though you kissed him slowly, thoroughly, you weren’t ready to abandon the conversation. “What did she do?”

“It got, um, awkward. She became pushy. I had to have a really awful conversation with her and she was really angry. God, I was so embarrassed. I really didn’t think I did anything, I mean anything, but just be nice to her. No flirting, nothing.” Steve hid his face against your neck.  “It got so uncomfortable. She acted like I jilted her or something. Thankfully the project ended pretty shortly after and she went back to DC.”

Continuing to run your fingers through the short hairs at the base of his neck, you asked. “But what does all that have to do with my background investigation?”

He let out a long groan and pulled you a little tighter against him. “Sam may have been teasing me, telling me to get off my ass and ask you out... going on about what a sap I am for you... and she overheard. It end up being a real scene.”

“When was this?” You were trying to remember if you’d ever met this woman.

“July.”

“Four months ago!” You laughed. “Steve! What the hell? Seriously?”  

He laughed, tightening his arms around your waist even more. “What? You were killing me. Tony threw that birthday party for me, and you showed up in that red dress. You walked in and spilled my drink. Then when you gave me your gift I just melted.”

“I baked you cookies.” You laughed.  

“I know.” He kissed you, humming his satisfaction. “And they were so good.”

His tongue slid along yours. His hands slid across your back, moving down and cupping your ass. Your hands roamed over his warm skin, along strong muscles. You grinned against his kiss. “I need to bake for you more.”

Steve’s hips rolled up into you. You couldn’t help your body’s reaction, being held tight to his bare chest, his soft lips making a wet trail along your neck. The cotton of his sweats failed to hide his reaction as well. You rolled yourself against him, drawing a groan from his chest.

Reaching between you and under the waistband, your fingers stroked his cock firmly. His fingers dug into your hips as his teeth nipped your ear. “Damn, woman.”

You chuckled as you pushed his sweated down just enough. Sliding along his length, slicking him up with your wetness, he moaned against your lips. He kissed you hard, tongue and teeth battling. When you rocked your hips just right and he slipped into you, deep, moans escaped you both.  

“Fuck, yes.” Your head fell back as you rode him, impaling yourself on his cock again and again. He watched you, enraptured. He tore the shirt away, feeling the weight of your breast, sending shocks of pleasure through your body as his thumbs rolled over your nipples.

You pace increased. Steve’s strong hands helped, as he fucked into you with a growing intensity. “Agh. So damn beautiful.” His mouth dropped open. “You feel so fucking good.”  

Heat spread through your core and your thighs began to shake. You held on to Steve’s shoulders. Eyes locking again. He stared at you with such emotion. Hunger, passion, caring, wonder, all roped together and just right there on the surface. It was so much. Everything began crashing together.  

“Ah, Yes!” Steve panted. “That’s it, Sweetheart. Come for me. That’s so good.”  

You shook, clenching and writhing, coming apart on top of him. Nails dug into his shoulder. His hands slammed you against him as his release followed yours with a groan. Collapsing, limp against his chest, you fought to regain your breath.  

His arms wrapped around you. Face nuzzled into your hair. Cock still hot and heavy inside you, Steve whispered words of praise and affection. “You are amazing. I should have told you how I felt soon. But, damn, I’m so thankful you’re here.”

“Mmm, Steve.” You started to move, but his arms tightened.

“No, please. Can we stay like this for just a minute more?”

You relaxed back against his chest. Wrapped in his arms, him buried in you, faces tucked into each other’s necks, felt so right. You didn’t want anything to mess it up. This was perfect.  

“If Fury changes his mind, and offers me the job, I think I’ll have to say no.” You whispered.

“What? Why?” The gentle circling of his fingers stopped.

“If I took a job with the team, we wouldn’t be able to be together. I don’t want to keep this in the closet.”

Steve lifted you off his lap, laying you back on the bed and stretching out beside you. Head propped up on one arm, he ran his other hand over your hip. “That’s not really true. I’ve looked at the bylaws. There’s nothing preventing it.” A rueful smile crossed his face. “Tony being self-serving, probably. We would just have to be certain we could keep things straight between work and personal.”

“I think I can take orders from you without a problem.” You smiled.

He grinned at the mischievousness in your eyes, but he grew serious again. “There will be times when it will be hard. We may have to make hard decisions.”

“I know.” You ran your fingers over his strong jaw. “You’re worth it.”

His soft lips covered yours. “You too.” Steve smiled down at you. “Do we crawl back in bed for a nap or shower and go for dinner?”

“Italian?”

“Anything my dame wants.” His smile widened.

“Shower, then Italian, and then we crawl back in bed.” You bit your lip, with a coy grin.

He hopped off the bed, pulling you with him. Only the audible grumble of Steve’s stomach kept the shower from getting out of hand. Washing down that amazing physique, hands slippery with soap and hot water, was easily something you wanted to become a habit.  

Steve loaned you a sweater that, although oversized, worked well with your pencil skirt. It looked more casual than the blouse. Of course your panties were a ruin, and he groaned as you slipped on your shoes, proclaimed you were ready without them on. One of his hands grabbed a handful of your ass.“That’s just not fair.”

Smiling as innocently as possible, you batted your eyes. “What?”

“Minx.” Steve kissed you one more time before grabbing his wallet.

ooooo

Again, you awoke to the sound of a voice. “Captain. Mr.Stark is attempting to reach you.”

Steve rubbed his cheek against the back of your head as he lifted his face from the pillow. He answered the AI in a gravely morning voice. “I’ll call him in a minute.”

“What time is it?” You scooched your back into his chest. He just radiated heat.

“Too early for a Saturday.” He pulled you tighter against him with a sigh.  

“Sir, Mr. Stark insists you contact him as soon as possible.”

“Fine,” He pushed the covers away. “I’ll call him right now.”

You watched him pad naked into the living area and retrieve his phone from the pile of discarded clothes by the front door. He came back and curled up behind you again before hitting the call button. “Tony.”

“Morning, Cap.”

“It is.”

“Don’t tell me I woke you up!” You could hear Stark’s mocking tone from where you were lying so close to Steve. “It’s after eight. Aren’t you up helping old ladies cross the street or saving kittens or something by dawn.”

“Tony.” Steve growled.

“So what’d you say to Fury to make him back up so fast he practically tripped over his trench coat?”

“What makes you think I-” Steve started.

“Whatever. Just curious.” Tony cut him off. “Roll over and tell our girl she got the gig.”  

Stark hung up.

“What the…?” Steve just looked at his phone. “How did he…?”

You burst out laughing. “Because Tony is a nosy little shit.” You rolled over. “Well, Boss, looks like I’ll be under your command.”

Steve’s eyes grew hungry as pinned you down. “Then I best run you through the paces…” His mouth playfully attacked your neck. You laughed and half-heartedly struggled. This would be the best assignment ever.

TAGS:

@my-favorite-fics-and-imagines / @patzammit / @thegetawaywriter / @nova3312 / @rainbowkisses31 / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @lbouvet / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @theneuropsychwriter / @vanillabunn21 / @sammghgecko​ / @beautifullungs​ / @badassbaker​ / @the-omni-princess​ / @sebbysstangirl​ / @jesseswartzwelder​ / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @the-reading-octopus​ / @bangtan-serendipity​ / @kiki5283​ / @mindtravelsx​ 

[chilling-seavey]

Amoureux (c.s./d.s.) - Chapter Nineteen

A/N It’s wedding day!

The white wedding dress was hung on the rack in the corner of Louisa’s bedroom by sunrise, although she was already wide awake most of the night with her nerves racing and her excitement keeping her being able to sleep. Mary came into her room in the morning with a tray of tea and breakfast pastries for them to eat while she got ready for her big day. Louisa sat at her vanity with a huge smile on her face and a cup of tea in hand as Mary brushed out her hair from the curlers.

“You must be incredibly excited.” Mary grinned.

“Indeed.” Louisa nodded. “Although a tad nervous as well.”

“Ah, that is normal.” Mary assured her, draping the fresh strawberry blonde curls over her shoulder to see how they looked so far. “Everyone downstairs has been rushing around since nearly 4am to make sure everything is perfect. It is supposed to be a beautiful day.”

“Lovely.” Louisa whispered, watching Mary adjust how her hair was sitting to make sure it was perfect. When her hair was done, she stood up on the small pedestal and Mary helped her into her one-of-a-kind wedding dress.

Just as she always imagined it, the large gown fell in a large ruffled hoop around her waist and fell just past her feet, the back a bit longer to make a small train. The bodice covered her corset with beaded lace and had a lowcut neckline and puffed sleeves that sat off the shoulder. Mary tied her pearl necklace around her neck, and it sat perfectly over her collarbones, matching her pearl earrings under her loose curls. Louisa couldn’t believe she was even looking at herself in the mirror; she truly looked like the bride she always wanted to be.

“We will get you some powder for your face and some rouge for your cheeks and lips and then we will be about ready to leave for the Abbey.” Mary helped her back onto the floor and smoothed down her skirt before moving to the vanity to find the bit of makeup. Now with the petticoat on under the gown, she couldn’t sit down easily so Louisa was left to stand until it was absolutely necessary to be seated.

When the finishing touches were settled and the white flowers were pinned into her soft curls, Louisa took the final look at herself in the gold plated mirror, her beaming smile staring back at her as she spun slowly to see all the angles.

“Mary, you have truly outdone yourself.” Louisa complimented.

“I did no such thing. The beauty is all yours, my dear.” Mary smiled, setting her hand on the young bride’s shoulder. “Prince Christian will absolutely lose his mind when he sees you. He may even cry!”

“Oh, goodness. No more of that nonsense.” Louisa chuckled.

“I would not blame him.” Mary teased, having her bend down a little to set the diamond tiara on her head, pinned down securely and attached to the long veil. The knock at the door interrupted their conversation and Mary went to answer it, leaving Louisa a moment to adjust the veil over her shoulders in the mirror. The poor lady in waiting barely got a word out before she was being nearly pushed to the side with a shocked gasp.

Louisa turned quickly to see who barged in, eyes landing on none other than Daniel. He was already dressed in his own wedding attire, his red suit jacket that of the official Royal Family uniforms, donned in two rows of gold buttons down the front and matching epaulets on his shoulders, the black collar tucked up high around his neck matching the cuffs with gold detailing and trim. His white slacks were tight and tucked into his black boots and finished with a gold belt, topped with a sheath at his hip holding his sword – only ever worn on the official uniform for very special occasions, no one ever trusted Daniel with a sword usually.

He took a moment to simply stare at Louisa, as if looking at her made him forget why he was even there in the first place. His obvious frazzled state had Louisa asking Mary for a moment alone and the lady in waiting politely excused herself, closing the door behind her.

“What are you doing in here?” Louisa asked Daniel as straightly as she could, turning to face him and her dress swayed around her.

“I…you look…absolutely beautiful.” Daniel breathed, his wide eyes scanning down her dress and everything in between.

“Thank you.” Louisa replied. “Now may you please answer my question?”

“Yes…I am here because I have been awake all-night thinking and I have come to the conclusion that you cannot marry Christian.” Daniel spoke strongly.

Louisa scoffed lightly through a small laugh, “Yes, I can. And I must. And I will.”

“No.” Daniel said quickly. “You don’t have to. I swear it. We can figure out a way to get you out of this.”

“‘Get me out of this’? Oh, Daniel, come on.” Louisa sighed.

Her obvious intent to still go through with the wedding was starting to make Daniel panic, “You didn’t want to marry him in the first place! You were told that you had to marry him which isn’t fair. What if you didn’t like him?”

“Daniel, this is most improper. I love your brother and I need to marry him.”

Daniel moved closer to her with his desperate intent, rushing out, “You are the most beautiful young woman I have ever seen in my whole life and you like to have fun and enjoy life…I know you do…I see the way your face lights up and…and…and you cannot be stuck with Christian for the rest of your life, you just can’t.”

Louisa looked at him and furrowed her eyebrows a moment in slight confusion.

“I would do anything to get you to love me the way you love him.” Daniel whispered.

“Daniel.” Louisa gaped.

“I’m serious, Louisa. I think I’m in love with you. No. I know I’m in love with you.” Daniel grabbed her arm.

“Stop this.” Louisa yanked her arm back from him and hiked up her dress to step away from him a little. “You cannot say these things.”

“I know it’s crazy for me to say this all right now, but I love you and I know you love me too!” Daniel said strongly.

Louisa shook her head, keeping her gaze downcast as to not look at him so she wouldn’t end up saying something she might regret.

“Run away with me, Louisa.” Daniel whispered, taking her face in his hands and pulled her to look him in the eye. “We can go right now and leave all these stupid people behind.”

“Daniel, stop.” Louisa said through her teeth, shoving him away from her and she walked across the room in anxious strides, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously before turning towards him again, her hands on her hips.

“Why won’t you say yes?” Daniel whispered, his voice wavering. “Why won’t you tell me you love me?”

“Because I…I don’t love you, Daniel.” Louisa forced herself to spit out, discreetly digging her nails in her hips to try and distract herself from the ache that was squeezing her heart in her chest.

Daniel’s small whimper took her by surprise and he crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head for a second to take a deep breath before looking back up at her, tears welling in his blue eyes, “It didn’t seem like that. I didn’t seem like you didn’t love me when you always chose me over him or when you wouldn’t let me stop kissing you or when we…when we…” he gestured to her bed through his forming tears, unable to even say it.

“Daniel, I didn’t want it to get to this, but you know I have a responsibility to my family and your family to marry Christian.” Louisa spoke gently. “I thought you knew from the first day I-”

Daniel cut her off with a strong, “I would rather die than not have you.”

“Do not say that.” Louisa snapped, trying to keep her voice down. “Do not even think about saying that to me again.”

“It’s the truth.” Daniel cried.

“You are being ridiculous.” Louisa said through her teeth. “You are not ruining my wedding day with your childish fantasies. I cannot afford to sacrifice this marriage, so help me God. Merde, Daniel. Ferme ta gueule.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying!” Daniel shouted out in frustration, his voice echoing around her room.

“‘Shit, Daniel, shut the fuck up’!” Louisa repeated in English, walking briskly over to him to press her palm to his mouth. “Are you stupid? I expected you to be a man about this.”

Daniel pushed her hand off him, “I’m not going to sit by and watch you marry Christian! You will be miserable!”

“You do not have a right to tell me what I am supposed to do with my life.” Louisa scolded, as if he truly were a child. “You are not going to ruin my wedding day with any of your nonsense, so I suggest you leave my room immediately before I request that are uninvited from the entire celebration.”

Daniel glared at her silently for a second, both of them breathing heavily within their anger and frustration, eye to eye, waiting for the other person to break first.

“Fine.” Daniel finally huffed.

He took one last look at her before turning on his heel for the door and threw it open with such force that it slammed against the wall and his heavy footsteps could be heard clicking all the way down the stairs. Louisa let out a heavy sigh and sat back on her chaise lounge, holding her face in her hands.

[saintedfury]

Tormenting Trip | IC Drabble

The stars couldn’t outshine the lights of the city or fight the haze that hung above downtown. Despite this, Furia stared deep into the night sky cradled, warm and weightless, in the water. She could hear the muffled pulse of music somewhere around her, but the party had started to grate her nerves. When a new sound met her ears, though she perked up and looked around her.

At the edge of the pool, he smiled when she turned her attention to him. They’d danced together, or maybe they hadn’t. There was something familiar about him, the soft smile that made his eyes gleam, the way his longish wavy blond hair framed his face. 

“It’s cold out here,” he said with a little hiss as his shoulders rolled together. 

“But it’s warm in here. Heated,” she told him. 

His smile widened with a laugh. “Aren’t you a little overdressed for swimming?”

She moved her arms more dramatically to veer her floating body toward him. His assessment was not totally off the mark. Furia hadn’t done anything more than slip off her shoes before she slipped into the water. It made sense in the moment, at least. She’d be able to keep warmer, at least that had been the train of thought she followed. And so far it proved accurate enough. “I’m not swimming, cariño. Just floating.”

He crouched at the edge of the pool taking another drag on his cigarette as he did. “You do look comfy.”

Furia reached up and plucked the cigarette out of his dangling hand. “You could join me.” She brought it to her lips and took a shallow pull at first. She had been reorienting her body to things she’d pushed aside more than a decade ago, so she took a tiny step forward. 

“Yeah, but I don’t think I could pull that off.”

“What?” she asked with a laugh. 

“Looking gorgeous and relaxed. Pretty sure I’d go straight to drown rat with chattering teeth.”

Her grin widened. “I guess that would mean I’d have to help warm you back up.”

“That’s tempting.” One knee met the concrete at the edge of the pool. She kept one hand above the water and watched him light another cigarette for himself. “Or I could just offer to let you commandeer the shower in my suite a few floors down.”

“Aren’t you forward?”

“I prefer chivalrous.”

“So it’s a purely gentlemanly offer?”

He looked playfully offended. “I’m a perfect gentleman.”

“And what if I’m not looking for a gentlemen?” Furia studied him--broad shoulders, trim hips, and full lips that looked so soft, but it was the dark eyes with a hint of mystery playing behind them that called out to the parts of her who she’d given the most sway recently.

He smiled boyishly, but didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’ll have to be less polite.”

Deciding she liked him, she broke her balance and with one last drag she flicked the cigarette in the direction of the railing. Once her body was out of the heated water though, the chill set in fast. There was still drifts of snow lining the streets, though there wasn’t any on the balcony. The wind up here, cut through her sodden slacks and the suit jacket she’d nicked that afternoon from a well-dressed conquest. 

Furia growled at the stark change of sensation as she waded through the water and up the steps. He offered her a hand, which she took. It was strangely enticing. The idea of him helping her along the steps as she dripped water with every movement, while he remained mostly dry. 

“Thank you,” she replied. 

“Anytime.” 

She looked at him again, searching his eyes, noticing the crinkles in the corner that gave away his smile. Her hand tightened around his when she settled on her course. Not even throwing out a passing thought for her shoes, she went straight for the door. He didn’t resist, but kept up with her as she made a dripping beeline through the throng pulsing in the penthouse suite, heading for the elevator. Her finger pressed the call button, then she turned, pulling his hand toward her until he’d completely closed the distance. 

He didn’t shy away from her, letting the pool water clinging to her seep into his own clothing as her fingers drew along the edge of his jaw. Neither of them moved in haste at the moment, but they inched toward one another like weak magnets until that first point of contact drew them tightly to one another. Her lips on his set off a chain reaction: his hands slid around her waist, her arm draped over his shoulder, he pulled her tighter against him, and Furia kept kissing him. 

The feint chime of the elevator’s arrival couldn’t even pull them apart; instead, they moved as one organism until her shoulders hit the back wall of the elevator. Separating for a breath, his grip loosened to punch a button for his floor. In the next moment, his index finger curled under her chin as their lips met again. His fingers danced over her cold-numbed skin, easing down her neck, then slipping over her shoulder beneath the suit jacket that hung loose on her frame. 

When his fingers brushed up against the thin strap of her bra, two fingers hooked beneath it and helped it over her shoulder. With nails skimming her flesh, his hand moved downward, following the ebb and swell of her breast. 

Her hiss broke the kiss when he scratched over her pert nipple. He grinned at her with mischief, pressing a peck on her parted mouth. She couldn’t help the moan when his mouth moved to her neck. He burned small imprints of his lips on her skin. Anticipation burned through her veins as he inched lower. 

“Fuck!” she screamed when the blazing fire of his mouth closed over her icy hard nipple. “That is intense.” Her hands dove into his hair, holding him to her with desperation until he’d suckled away the chill in her skin. 

“Just wait until I get your clit in my mouth.”

She moaned, her leg rubbing against the side of his as he shifted her jacket aside and latched onto the other through the lace of her bra. Her incoherent voice echoed around them in the small elevator car, intersprsed with his content hums. When the chime rang once more, he straightened and tugged at her lapel to make sure her jacket hung on her shoulders with as much modesty as could be managed in her flushed state.

This time it was he that grabbed her hand and pulled her into the hall. He didn’t dally, but walked with purpose. He had the door open before she could even decide if she’d try to interfere and draw it out. Pushing the door open, his free hand circled her waist and he pulled her into the room with him. The door hadn’t even clicked closed before her hands pushed his black blazer over his shoulders. He didn’t fight it, just let it fall.

When Furia’s hands went to his cheeks, he complied with her unspoken direction. He reached out and locked the door, throwing the privacy bolt as well. Their kisses still teased, deepening here and there, despite the need she felt igniting in her core. His arms pulled her close, one hand landing on her rear and squeezing tight as he pulled their hips against one another. 

She moved to his neck, her fingers leading the way as they plucked open the buttons on his shirt. “We should get you out of those wet clothes,” he said, kissing her hair. 

“What’s stopping you?” she asked peeking up at him after nipping at his chest. She threw his shirt open and straightened again.

He dove for her lips, then lifted her off her feet. Furia’s legs wrapped around his hips. Dangling from his neck, she rutted against him suggestively. She knew exactly where she wanted this to go. She wanted to use the rush in her blood to its fullest and he seemed a willing participant bent on an aligned goal.

She peeled her jacket off. And unclasped her bra with one hand. When he set her on the bed, he pulled away just enough to get her slacks undone. There was no conversation about her lack of underwear when he pulled them off--honestly, she couldn’t recall quite when she’d lost them. Someone she’d slept with probably just had a fetish, or so she assumed.

Furia held his gaze as she inched across the wide expanse of the king sized bed, with a stray thought about this being a lot of real estate for one person sleeping alone. He shucked his jeans and everything else before crawling after her. She stopped, leaned back on her elbows, and let her knees fall open.

A smirk curled over his mouth as his eyes raked over her, every inch. His first kiss landed on the knob of her inner ankle. He worked his way up each of her legs, taking his time. A little lick at the back of her knee left her giggling and pulling her leg away from his mouth. He dove at her other leg, biting her thigh and making her keen. 

“I want you to touch me.”

“I am,” he countered. His smile was irksome and endearing.

“Tease,” she told him. Though she wanted it to seem like an insult, it was actually a compliment. She loved being well and truly worked up. 

When he did reach the apex of her thighs, in his own sweet time, he made good on the threat he’d mentioned in the elevator. His mouth scorched her clit when without pretense he sucked it into his mouth. Her body curled upward, her hands fisting in his hair as her thighs clamped around his head. He didn’t release her. His tongue teased her oversensitive cold flesh without a trace of mercy until she finally eased back into it. 

Of course, there was more to warm. Every lick through her folds lit a trail of fire that left her writhing on his bed until she came as he played her body like a maestro.

Lazy kisses crept over her hips, along the curve of her ribs. He bowed his head at each of her breasts in turn, teasing her nipples fervently before his body finally covered hers. His kisses started at her neck; Furia turned toward him, coaxing his lips to hers. The shaft of his cock shifted against her clit, earning a low growl from her. She draped her leg over his hip and moved with him, teasing him as he did the same to her while they kissed like teenagers who had the house all to themselves. 

She appreciated the pace, the lack of frenzy in the way he languidly enjoyed every inch of her. He nipped her shoulder when he grabbed her ass and pulled her hips hard against his. 

“You feel so good.”

She hummed and guided his mouth back to hers. When his hips shifted starkly, she pulled away enough to say one word. “Condom.”

He looked confused for a moment, like someone had just splashed him with a bucket of ice water. “Yeah, of course.”

She mourned the distance the movement brought. While she was perfectly content to chase anything and everything that would make her feel good and keep her mind away from a single topic, her self-destruction hadn’t yet reached the entirely recklessly stupid stage. High though she might be, she still knew exactly what she was doing even if she didn’t know who.

The bedside table had a little amentities basket, which included a half dozen condoms along with a sewing kit, tiny bottles of lotion, and other little emergency necessities one might find themselves desperate for at any random moment. When he knelt near her again, she sat up and licked her hand, slicking it down his cock. His hands froze as his eyes closed and a low moan crept into his throat. 

He shifted slightly as she pumped him again. One more time and his eyes popped open again. He moved fitting the condom on, after having to flip it over after her distraction. She pulled her hand out of the way, laying it on his neck until he finished his task, the completion of which was announced with him lunging for her lips again. His momentum might have carried them backwards onto the bed, except for her hand pressing at his shoulder.

The kiss didn’t break, as he again followed her lead, and shifted onto his back. Furia knew what she wanted, what her body needed in that moment far better than anyone else might. She straddled his hips and rocked against him as they kissed. Teasing herself, probably a bit more than him now, she pressed herself along the length of him. In her own time, her hand snaked between them and guided his cock into herself.

Breaking the kiss, she sat back, towering over him as she seated him deep inside her. His hands teased at her thighs and knees as she ground her hips against his. Eventually she leaned forward once more, moving with more friction. He joined her in minute increments. The pace gradually rose with their racing heartbeats. Furia’s focus became wholly singular, at which point her partner was little more than a means to an end--her orgasm. 

When she got close, her nails dug into his chest which she used for leverage in her chase. His grunting and moaning barely penetrated her focus. But the swell of his cock inside her, that she noticed, needed, and used for her own benefit. Even as his hips stuttered, hers didn’t still. Furia set her fingers on her clit seeking more friction now that he’d reached his end. 

When he fell asleep beside her, Furia slipped out of the bed and took him up on the offer he’d made her in the pool. After a steamy shower, she exited the bathroom toweling her hair gently. That feeling of familiarity prickled at the back of her mind again and she found herself studying his face once more with less lust and a little more reason. 

When she saw it, or more accurately, when she connected that sensation with an actual face from the past her jaw tightened. “Should’ve seen it earlier,” she told herself with a shake of her head, trying to force away the flash of Troy’s face that popped to mind. When she slid open the closet door silently, another surprise brought a disapproving grumble into her throat. 

She decided not to judge. Maybe whoever these clothes belonged to had a relationship with him like she’d shared with some of her lovers; she specifically forced herself to think of it in those generic terms. She didn’t want to tempt memories of any of the men in her life to shift to the forefront. She grabbed a black skirt and a simple white blouse, then grabbed one of his jackets from the other side. She emptied the pockets of her wet coat into the new one, emptying the last hit of E from one of the bags she had been carrying. 

She’d started for the door barefoot, then returned. His girlfriend’s shoes were far too small, so she grabbed a pair of boots from his side. They were far too big, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

Grabbing a bottle from the bar in the other room, she let herself out and strode for the elevator.

[cloudycrystalkpop]

Starfall

pairing characters: Zitao + the coven of VIXX

summary: clan of delphi au | Tao finds himself in the midst of the mysterious coven of vixx

warnings: a touch of hoodoo

words: 1.6k

~

The small bells over the door chimed in greeting as he stepped into the apothecary. The tall man behind the desk glanced up. His pointed features and scowling eyes gave Tao a feeling he wasn’t very welcome.

“Excuse me,” he stepped up to the counter, offering the man a smile. “I was told there was a fortune teller here.”

The man didn’t speak for a moment, not bothering to look up at Tao until he had finished crushing the leaves in his hands.

“He’s busy at the moment.” The scowling man’s voice was much higher in pitch then Tao had expected.

“Ah, that’s alright, i don’t mind waiting.” Tao turned at sat himself in a chair in the corner of the room.

Looking around, he observed the atmosphere of the place. The walls were a deep navy blue, with accents of a metallic gold in the trim. The ceiling sparkled like a dancing night sky. Behind the deck were many walls lined with shelves, each home to a different plant. Midnight flowers and dark ferns hidden from the bright golden light of the window.

Tao’s eyes fell to the hallway as he heard footsteps.

“Taekwoon~ have you seen that little rabbit i found earlier? Oh god if Hyuk finds that thing there is no telling what he might-“ the man stopped his sentence as he entered the front room, spotting Tao instantly. “oh hello! I didn’t see you there.” The man’s voice was higher in pitch and he spoke with a friendly smile.

The scowling witch, Taekwoon, passed a glance at the new man, nodding to Tao and where he sat in the corner. The new man seemed to understand.

“you are here for a fortune telling?” The brighter man turned to Tao as he stood.

“yes, if you please.” Tao nodded politely. The man blinked at him, studying him closely, before a small grin traced his lips and be breathed the faintest chuckle.

“alright, he’s back in the garden. If you would please follow me.” He held back the many strings of beads that acted as a door. Tao stepped through and found himself entering the world M had called home for so long.

~

The two tall men watched this stranger from the shadows. His heels clicked and the fur he wore ruffled in the slight wind. This stranger certainly looked expensive. His hair was perfect, not a strand out of place, and his eyes nicely rimmed in black to match his perfect nails.

“that hast to be him.” The younger spoke.

“what are you thinking Hyuk?” The elder asked. Hyuk grinned a devilish smile.

“if he really wants to be Mori’s mentor, let’s see if he can handle a little spook shall we?” Hyuk’s eyes sparkled at the idea of mischief.

~

Tao followed the man out and into the garden. The area was bright, countless plants grew there, all thriving and full of life. The flowers seemed to stretch just a bit more as the man before him walked passed. He didn’t have to be an Oracle to tell, this man had fae blood.

“Hakyeon, there is a man here to see you.” He called out into the darker part of the garden. A moment later, the Seer amerged.

“thank you Jaehwan.” He nodded to the fae as he turned to leave, offering Tao another smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“come along Zitao, have a seat.” Tao shouldn’t have been surprised at hearing his full name, but it still caught him off guard. He followed the mans instructions and sat at the small table.

The table was a dark black marble, with glowing golden specks in the perfect formations for constellations.

Hakyeon sat across from him, resting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his folded hands.

“she’s still running i imagine.” The elder spoke calmly. Tao swallowed. He wasn’t really intimidated by other seers anymore. But this man before him, the whole vibe of this place was just so... different.

“i, need some help.” He hated those words. So many years he’d spent independent, and one child has brought him to a loss.

Hakyeon smiled at his words.

“it isn’t everyday i find a Delphi at my doorstep asking for advice on mentorship.” The elder man chuckled.

“she found you, found your coven, she chose you and trusts you.” Tao squared his shoulders, gathering his confidence. “i need to earn the same trust, but she won’t let me.”

“indeed, Mori trusts myself and my coven mates greatly.” Hakyeon nodded, closing his eyes. “but you are mistaken if you believe i was her favorite.”

Tao paused.

“Mori needs someone, to be her friend. She needs someone like her. If it had been only me she felt close with, she would have moved on a long time ago.” Hakyeon smiled as he watched the younger man before him put all this together.

“she is... rather fond of that alchemist.” Tao mumbled quietly. He quickly raised his head to look the other man in the eyes “you know what that boy is, right?”

“i know he doesn’t fully know himself.” Hakyeon laid back in his chair. “they are still children, still learning and discovering who they are.”

Tao took another breath. While he knew all of these things, he didn’t seem to be remembering them while actually trying to convince her.

“you shouldn’t take her rejection so harshly. How many times have you actually spoken to her?” Hakyeon raised his brows at the man before him.

Tao fell silent at this question. The sound of laughter came from outside the hedge. Hakyeon breathed a sigh as Tao jumped.

“you’re too much of a coward to even try and talk to her!” the cause of the snickers poked his head around the hedge.

“Hyuk, i thought you were chasing that little white rabbit?” Hakyeon scolded the youngest for his eavesdropping.

“Jaehwan screamed at me, so i let him go.” The man shrugged. “i guess i’ll start walking through the woods again, i really do need a pelt.”

Tao scanned the young man before him. Youngest of the coven, darker in arua then the members he’s already met. He had a smile behind his eyes that sung of trouble. The dirt and blood under his nails combined with the stitching on his jacket, sung quiet hymns of a hoodoo witch doctor.

A woven bracelet he wore reminded him greatly of another he had seen. An anklet worn by Mori with the same colors and patterns, the only slight variation was the beetle charm on his as opposed to the key on hers. It had been quite a while since Tao had seen beetles in magic.

This man’s craft was sand and desert based, while Mori’s was from the deep marsh.

Tao was distracted from his thoughts by a fluttering feeling on his cheek. he brushed away the moth, causing it to float down to the table. the three men watched at the moth slowly died, it’s wings falling off and turning to ash.

“how... odd.” Tao swallowed hard, staring at the insect. he felt his heart pound in his ears, that moth should’ve been fine, nothing happened to it. was it because it touched him? was it happening again?

another snicker came from the younger man.

“now Hyuk, was that really necessary?” the scolding voice of Hakyeon pulled Tao back to the present. Hyuk reached down, placing his hand over the pile of ash. a shiver ran down Tao’s spine as the air around the witch became heavy. when he lifted his hand, the small moth was resurrected, fluttering back into the air.

“come on now, it’s just a bit of harmless fun.” Hyuk chimed. Tao looked up at the young man, watching him closely. suddenly Mori’s friendship with this man added another layer of depth. the mischief in his eyes ran all too familiar to Tao.

“resurrection is quite a specialized gift.” Tao spoke, leaning back in his chair. “you may want to be careful, there is always the possibility, of mistakes being made.”

Hyuk’s sparkling eyes narrowed at the oricle.

Tao stood from his seat, offering Hakyeon a polite smile. “thank you for the reading sir. i have much to think about.” Hakyeon watched him closely, nodding at his words. “now gentlemen, i will be on my way.”

“Hyuk, how about you show our guest out, hm?” Hakyeon nodded to the younger man. Tao clenched his teeth, as the witch began leading him back through the guardan.

~

Hyuk didn’t say a word as he lead Tao to the gate, but just before the oricle could step through, he grabbed his fur coat, yanking him back for a moment.

“excuse me! this is very expensive-” Tao was cut off by the dark tone in the hoodoo witch’s voice.

“no matter what you and your cult believe about covens, Morganna is our little sister. we are her home and family. and if i find you have done something to harm her, something to disrespect her, i promise you, you and your cult of oracles will have nightmares of the horrors we have in store for you. in this life and the rest to come.” he stared the man down, his eyes bubbling with warning.

Tao was silent, simply watching the man.

“you have my word, she will never be held against her will.” Tao’s voice was steady as he shoved the other witch off him. Hyuk snarled, but backed away.

Tao watched at the witch doctor wandered back into the shadows, disappearing back to the coven ground. there was a lingering feeling of weight on his chest. he had a sinking feeling, a part of him knew, that moth was more than just a test. it was a warning.

[llaevateinn]

Puppy Problems 3: Hygiene

(Read Puppy Problems 1 and 2 here and here.)

Gabriel was always astonished at the bright white color of Jack’s fur after a bath. A lot of dirt and dust and … other things accumulated very quickly, making him look more dirty brown or piebald even. Until he washed it all off with some shampoo and water. And out came – still a crooked, uneven, perpetually snarling creature, but the color of a wild ice bear instead of a captive one.

“How do you always get this dirty?” Gabriel groused not unkindly, rubbing his hands roughly along Jack’s back to rid him of clumps of dirt, dust and blood. The body under his palms surged in an annoyed huff. “Rolling in the dirt like swine, are we? And to think I let you sleep in bed with me, you dirty puppy, you.”

That earned him a playful nip to the shoulder, where Jack knew he could handle the pressure from those sharp, deadly teeth.

“At least you don’t have any lice.” He paused. “Or do you?”

The reason for this particular bath was their return from the mission in Argentina, for one. He was unsure how the other Overwatch agents, both old and new, magical and non-magical, would react to seeing Jack’s blood red muzzle and legs drenched in unidentifiable fluids that made him look like he was wearing thigh-highs. But they were also overdue for a medical checkup at Angela’s. And there was no way Gabriel was going to let him show up at the witch’s place with anything less than pristine appearance. So he had to give him a bath, clip his nails, brush his teeth, and comb out his fur.

Gabriel didn’t have much experience taking care of canid creatures. He had worked with a lot of werewolves, werefoxes and werecoyotes and such in his time, but they all knew how to care for themselves. Jesse in particular often shocked people unfamiliar with ‘weres by pointedly licking his own butt in full frontal view. Which was gross, and Gabriel was kind of glad Jack didn’t do that. But it also meant that Jack had no clue how to maintain his body hygiene.

Jack was clumsily trying to help him reach some less accessible parts of his body, but the movement only caused the water to spill over and drench Gabriel from head to toe.

“You know that doesn’t work on me,” he said in response to Jack’s pathetic version of puppy eyes. “Admit it, you just wanted me to take off my shirt.”

He carefully rinsed off the shampoo he used, washing it away from Jack’s face so it didn’t drip into his eyes and cause irritation. That had happened far too many times, back when all of this had been new. As he did so, Gabriel noted with dismay that clumps of hair came off alongside the suds, which were soon starting to clog the drain. Jack’s fur grew in quickly, but he also lost an inordinate amount of it every day. It made wearing his black uniform very impractical, since Jack and him were more or less joined at the hip these days.

There were eight full-sized bath towels at the ready to make a futile attempt at drying Jack’s massive body, and they were all sopping wet in no time at all. Gabriel let them lying on the bathroom floor, exhausted, and thinking to himself that was a problem for his future self.

“Do you wanna go outside and shake off the rest of it?”

Jack let his jaw and tongue hang in what Gabriel had come to recognize both as an affirmation and a big, happy grin. He didn’t bother to change his own drenched clothing, knowing he was only going to get wet again. The only things he needed to bring were the equipment to deal with Jack’s teeth and nails.

Gabriel steadfastly ignored the steady trail of water they both left behind, knowing there were automated bots to take care of these things. On the way to the sun deck, however, they encountered a relatively new face.

“A disgrace,” said Hanzo Shimada, not bothering to greet them politely. “This monstrosity should have been put down and out of its misery a long time ago. It is unsightly of an organization such as Overwatch, and I would be ashamed, were I a member of it.”

Gabriel let Jack’s silent snarl speak for them both and shouldered past the archer.

“I don’t care that you’re Genji’s brother,” he threw over his shoulder. “Disrespect the former Strike Commander again, and you’ll have a real problem with me.”

There was only an arrogant huff in reply to this, and Gabriel had to hide the furious tremble of his hands in Jack’s neck fur. He kept his fingers entangled in the wet strands until they reached fresh air and sunlight.

“Don’t use any of the furniture,” Gabriel reminded Jack sternly, but smiled when he saw him bound across the deck in joy. The arrhythmic click of his claws on the floor was as much caused by his leaps and bounds as by his asymmetric hip, causing a very slight limp.

As he watched Jack shake out his fur, reclined on one of the deck chairs, he grimly remembered a time he didn’t know how to do that. Back in Talon, things like this had been a great weakness that made Jack’s life among the other beasts and creatures difficult. Gabriel had tried to spend as much time with him as he could, but sometimes missions didn’t require him to bring additional help. And that left Jack to handle the resident ‘were pack, a pair of gryphons and a sphynx all on his own.

A cold, wet nose bumping against his cheek drew him out of his reverie, alongside a heavy paw placed innocently in his lap.

“No paw rubs,” he admonished Jack. “Just hold still while I try to deal with your nails, okay?”

There was a huff of breath and a big, warm head nudging his shoulder, which he took as assent.

Clipping Jack’s nails was like trying to saw off a piece of rock. Usually, walking on hard and rough surfaces all day could help to mitigate some of the problems, but Jack’s claws were harder than any floor by far. So he had to trim them more often.

By the time he was done with one paw, his hand already hurt from exertion. As if sensing this, Jack withdrew his leg and started nuzzling at Gabriel’s hand.

“That really won’t help, I’m sorry. We will just have to power through.”

By the time he was finally done, he was hungry as well as thirsty, and Jack’s fur had gone all puffy and fluffy in the sunlight. He ran his hand through it, as always surprised at how rough it was.

“You look like a teddy bear now. A big, chunky teddy bear.”

Jack snorted and licked his face.

“Ugh, okay. How about we grab some food? I can brush your teeth afterwards, if you promise not to have stinky breath.” He met Jack’s unimpressed gaze. “Okay, you always have stinky breath nowadays. But still. Have you tried mouthwash?”

As they made their way to the kitchen, Gabriel marveled that sometimes there were moments like this where it didn’t feel like their banter was one-sided. He good-naturedly ribbed Jack’s eyesight, telling him to eat his vegetables, and in return Jack tugged at his sweatpants until he nearly stumbled.

“Stop it, you hooligan, those are my favorite pants!”

Jack’s only reply was a big, open-mouthed grin, and then he was off. Not bothering to hurry, Gabriel let him simmer for a bit, so that by the time he arrived at the kitchen, Jack was pacing impatiently in front of the fridge, tail wagging hesitantly.

“Should have thought about that before you ran off, puppy.”

It had taken them a while to find out what Jack could or could not eat. Gabriel surmised that Jack had lived off of garbage, rats and leftovers before he found him in Cairo. In Talon, Jack had been fed the usual fare of protein, carbs and vitamins mashed together into one block of tasteless goop – enough to keep him alive and strong, useful to Talon, but not much else. In secret, Gabriel used to bring him pieces of meat, fruits, vegetables, and other foodstuffs, trying to find something Jack liked. No matter what he brought, it all seemed to still agree with him, so eventually they decided on giving him regular human food, though adjusted to his lack of opposable thumbs.

Gabriel threw together a few ingredients they had lying around into a delicious burrito for himself, mixing them all in a bowl for Jack to enjoy. They ate in silence, which was only interrupted by Jack intermittently when he eventually got something stuck between his teeth and tried to get it unstuck by hacking, slurping, and generally making a lot of noise.

“You okay there buddy?” Gabriel asked, mouth full, after it had been quiet for some time. He turned around, only to nearly choke on his food.

“Hello, Gabriel.”

He quickly swallowed, brushed a few crumbs off his shirt and pulled his feet off the counter, where he had been resting them previously. There was the strange urge to stand and salute, but he suppressed it.

“Ana,” he replied finally, recovering from his shock. “How are- … What are you- …”

“I was just about to make myself some tea. Would you like some as well?”

He mutely shook his head, and watched her slim, proud figure cross the kitchen as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Jack, hunkering and stiff like a board, backed up against the wall on the far end of the room.

“So how did the mission in Argentina go?”

Gabriel turned around again, observing as Ana filled a pot with water and prepared a cup and her tea leaves. The tension in the air was thick enough to be cut in half with a careless word.

“It was a success,” he replied cautiously.

Her back still turned on him, Ana hummed.

“It is good to have you back.”

“In general, or specifically from this mission?”

“Both.”

Swallowing awkwardly, Gabriel shifted to look back and check on Jack. His spine straightened with terror, when he found the corner empty. Had Jack slipped out of the room? Damn, since he’d trimmed his nails there wasn’t the telltale sound of them on the floor anymore.

“I don’t trust him. And he doesn’t trust me either.”

Frowning, Gabriel waited for Ana to elaborate. She calmly prepared her tea, bringing her cup and some sugar to Gabriel’s table, and sat down primly next to him.

“He is a hellhound, Gabriel,” she finally continued, after taking a first sip. “Even if he used to be Jack Morrison, he is no longer the man we both knew. Hellhounds are violent, volatile creatures. It is no mistake they are categorized as beasts. They aren’t human anymore, after the transformation. It is a miracle he seems to still remember you, and hold some sort of loyalty to you. But I don’t trust him when it comes to the safety of anyone else. You may be able to survive a hellhound attack, because your fire is stronger than his, even in your … weakened state. The rest of us don’t have your gifts though. And I don’t like the fact that you are playing with a lot of lives just by having him here on base with us.”

“No wonder Jack doesn’t trust you either,” Gabriel said wryly.

“He should be cautious. I will not hesitate to defend myself, should the need arise.”

Gabriel nodded, accepting Ana’s viewpoint. He knew very well that once the sniper and alchemist had made up her mind there was no changing it.

“You do know,” he added, however, “that neither of us has forgiven you for leaving yet.”

There was a barely noticeable pause in between sips.

“I had my reasons.”

“I’m sure.” Gabriel got to his feet, feeling strangely detached. There was some anger here, mostly on behalf of Jack, and some old grief. But he needed to find Jack and make sure that he was okay. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “there’s somewhere I need to be right now.”

He was already halfway out the door, when he heard Ana say: “I may not really understand or approve. But … I am glad you have each other. In whatever capacity. The two of you were always better together than apart.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel replied sincerely, meeting her eye across the room. The air was still heavy, but this time it was thick with emotion, and not all of it negative. “It’s good to have you back, too.”

His legs felt numb as he hurried back to his room – the room he shared with Jack. It was the only plausible place where Jack could be hiding right now. When he entered, at first his heart seized in fear. There was no white in sight anywhere. No sign of Jack at all. Until his ears picked up on a very faint noise.

“Hey there, puppy. How in the world did you manage to fit under there?”

With a long sigh, he laid flat on the ground, on his back, so he was free to look under the narrow space under the bed. In the darkness, Jack’s eyes reflected what little light came through, two pinpricks of brightness. There was another sniffing sound.

“I know it must have been tough, seeing Ana like that. But you didn’t finish eating. How about we stay in here for a while? I can brush your teeth later. If you want some cuddles though, you’ll have to get out from there.”

He burst into laughter when a nearly two hundred pound hellhound pounced on him and started showering him in lick-kisses. As he wrestled with him on the ground, mock-protesting the loving, he felt something inside him settle. He loved Jack. He would always love him, in whichever way it was possible for him to do. And Jack loved him, too, he was sure of it, in whichever way he was able. No one understood, but it also didn’t matter. As long as they had each other the world was okay.

I have a ko-fi!

[the-years-between-us]

Lamplighter

Summary: Stella gets a call from Reed directly following the final episode of The Fall S3. (Stella Gibson/Reed Smith)

Chapter Index 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Warning: This story contains references and descriptions of self-harm. NC-17.

AN: Thanks as always to @therobbinsnest, @mobygirl21, and @misshadley!

Chapter 4

The muscles in Reed’s legs are tired, overexerted and tinged with sweet soreness, the kind that begs to be stretched. She arches her back, lengthening her body, feeling the pleasant tension dissipate into the sun warmed room.

It’s 10:30am and they've accidentally slept in, lethargic after staying up so late. Upon seeing the time, Reed’s first instinct had been to worry, she’s used to having responsibilities after all. The padding of little feet or the impending wail of an argument usually lurking imminently behind the shelter of her closed eyelids. But not this morning. This morning she can linger in the fluffy comfort of her bed without the niggling fear that someone small needs her attention. In some ways it feels like she’s missing a limb. Another stretch proves she’s not, all limbs accounted for, and then she fights the guilty feeling that tells her to feel selfish for having this. It’s a habit she’s trying to break. Beating herself up for needing certain things - anything - for herself. The cycle of self-incrimination, bearing burdens and wearing guilt, it’s all part of this self-inflicted wound she’s been trying to clean. She’d convinced herself that it was ‘nothing’ for too long, put a bandaid on it, expected it to heal on its own. And she’s a doctor. She should have known better.

So she resolves to let go of that guilt for now, she tells herself there’s no other choice. It's part of the treatment she’s prescribed herself. Sometimes it feels counterintuitive but she knows that it’s the right thing. The medicine is harsh but the alternative infection had grown unbearable. And she tells herself this for the hundredth time this week alone, her own silent mantra.

Then she chances a glance toward the space next to her, the one Stella occupies dozing in and out of sleep. All at once, a second wave of worry breaks over her barely conscious mind. Because it’s late and Stella probably has things she needs to do. What if she’s been waiting for Reed to wake up? Too polite to leave inconspicuously? Trying futilely to wait for her get up like an active adult should, even on the weekends. It’s not like they know each other’s schedules or routines but 10:30am seems alarmingly late.

Before her anxiety snowballs into an avalanche, Reed halts her thoughts and takes a deep breath. Examine the situation.

Everything appears fine. In fact, almost better than fine.

Stella’s awake but not by much. There's no rush in the drowsy blink of her eyes and it’s a relief but also remarkably strange. For some reason, Reed imagines that lazy Saturday mornings are totally out of the realm of possibility for Stella. But the evidence in front of her speaks for itself. Stella makes no pressing effort to remove herself from their sleep-disheveled nest, no energetic toss of the sheets or swift gathering of clothing. There’s even a sleepy smile as she sees Reed notice her. Reed reflects the gesture back because it’s almost impossible not to, and then lets her eyes drift closed. There’s probably some fear lingering in the shadows of her lashes, fear that doesn’t need to be there, fear that Stella doesn’t need to see.

Looking up at the ceiling, Reed sees alternative scenarios play out before her. More likely scenarios. How this morning might have been riddled with excuses, all of them wrapped up in vague assurances, shifting eyes, and tight non-smiles. Cracks lining the thick frozen surface of Stella’s glacier stare, trying and failing to mask the acutely obvious logic swimming there.

Don’t let it mean so much. It was always going to be like this.

Stella would never say it but it would be there all the same. And she would keep things unemotional and clean. A fact of life like any other, something to accept and put behind you. Promises to see each other soon, Keep me posted on how the job goes, when they both know it’s the last time they’ll speak, at least for a while. Reed sees it so plainly as if it’s already happened. It’s almost painful how undeniable the likelihood of a rejection from Stella Gibson seems to her now. How clearly it manifests itself on the blurry ceiling.

“What're you thinking about?” comes Stella’s hearthside voice, rough and balmy from the morning hour. Reed vanquishes the assaulting vision, lets it waft away like smoke, curling upward into nothingness. That’s all it is. Nothingness.

Letting her head tilt towards Stella, Reed’s met with the same icy blue eyes, less cold than her imagination paints them. They're inquisitive and more awake than a few moments ago, beaming into her, asking questions. Stella lays on her side, rumpled sheet tucked under her arm, hair a bit of mess splayed over the pillow. Somehow she still manages to look glorious. Reed wonders if she’s simply made different, stitched together with some celestial thread, elegance sewn into her bones. Stella for star.

“Nothing,” Reed answers untruthfully and it sounds small even to her own ears.

There are some things that you just don't say to people. And Reed’s learning that there are even more things that you just don’t say to Stella. Being honest right now would require violating one or both of those things. I’m just wondering why you’re still here is decidedly not the thing to say. So nothing is.

But Stella is perceptive, it's one of the things that makes her good at her job, so of course she sees the lie. The smoky film hanging in the air, residue left behind by unwelcome thoughts, she sees it all. And Reed tries to give her a smile but it doesn't work. It so sadly doesn't work and the probing nature of Stella's gaze freezes over a bit more, solidifying.

Reed doesn’t want to lie but the truth seems useless and needy, thoughts she’d like to un-think. And she needs to distract herself or she’ll shatter under the intensity of Stella’s steely stare. This is so foolish of her because she’s woken up to a beautiful woman who’s still very firmly in her bed. The same woman who gave her three distinctly memorable orgasms last night and it’s ridiculous because Reed didn’t even know she could come three times in one night. Now she’s forcing a scenario upon herself that hasn’t happened, making it a mountain in her mind instead of enjoying the peace of simply being here. What a shame, ‘here’ is pretty fucking great and she’s wasting it.

A heavy sigh, closing eyelids. Let it go.

“I was thinking…” she starts before opening her eyes anew, “How nice it is to sleep in. Nowhere to be and no lovely children demanding breakfast.”

“Mm,” Stella hums in response, eyes softening a little in attempt to accept Reed’s deflection into lighter territory. Her hand finds Reed’s lying between them and Stella runs the soft pads over her fingers over Reed’s, studying their structure, thin but strong, skilled and slender. “Breakfast doesn't sound so bad.”

Stella’s delicate fingertips continue playing, lacing up and down, and it feels incredibly cathartic. Here and there, her trim nails brush lightly over Reed’s hands, sending chill bumps up her spine, across her shoulders and down her arms. Just like that, Reed senses her worries receding, slipping away into the murky depths from which they came. Every tender stroke, the sensory pleasure of skin on skin, relaxing.

Is it intentional? That perceptive nature of Stella’s, purposefully calming her contemptuous mind? Laying her fears to rest, telling her she has nothing to worry about. Because Stella’s touching her soothingly, and apparently she wants breakfast, she wants to stay. Maybe Reed just hasn’t woken up yet, caught in that in-between, not ready to encounter reality.

“It doesn't sound bad at all.”

Stella hums again looking at Reed with bright eyes, a gossamer smile whispered across her lips. Reed can see her intentions woven in the seductive fabric of her irises. And then her fingers abandon Reed’s as she slips her arm over the dip of Reed’s waist.

“In fact,” comes her low voice. “I’m rather hungry.”

Leaning in, Stella kisses Reed’s throat sending her fraught mind tumbling down an entirely different path. Shifting her weight, Stella positions herself over Reed for better access and the sheet slides unceremoniously down Stella’s back. A few strands of blonde hair tickle against Reed’s neck before Stella tucks them safely behind her ear, eyes catching Reed’s as she does so. And in the brief spell of connection there, Reed can see Stella evaluating her, gauging her mindset and whether or not this is working, if distraction was the appropriate tactic here. Reed’s not entirely sure if it’s the right thing to do but it feels good. When Stella’s mouth is on her she feels so good. Everything else filters into white noise.

Apparently satisfied, Stella dips down to kiss her clavicle, soft and then not so soft. Reed lets her fingers glide through Stella’s hair with that same feathery touch she’d just enjoyed so much. And it must be welcome because Stella makes a small noise - not quite a moan, not quite a hum - something like an unconscious sigh in the back of her throat that translates into a gentle nip of her teeth. Immediately, Reed feels herself flush as her heart begins to race and Stella tempers the bite with her tongue.

Moving a bit lower, Stella traces wet kisses down the valley of Reed’s breasts. And then she stops at the cue of an interrupting growl, the rumbling of a stomach gone too long without food. And Stella lifts her head to look at Reed, a genuinely amused expression lining her lips.

“Was that you or me?”

“I don’t know,” Reed laughs a little and Stella’s head collapses downward in mild defeat. God forbid uninteresting requisites like ‘three meals a day’ get in the way of the finer things in life.  “Maybe we should get some proper food in us before this goes any further.”

“Might be wise,” Stella says, placing a single lingering kiss to Reed’s breast bone before pulling herself up into a sitting position. She glances around as Reed extracts herself from the bedding. “Seems like most of my clothes never made it upstairs.” Reed tries not to grin at the memory.

“I’ll find you something,” she says walking toward the dresser. “Options are limited though. I got rid of a bunch of things during the move.”

“Anything’s fine,” Stella says getting up and heading towards the bathroom. “Just leave something out and I’ll be right down.” With that she disappears behind the door as Reed sifts through her pajama drawer. Not much to choose from. None of it looks remotely like something Stella might wear. So she throws on a tank top and pair of loose cotton shorts, and leaves out a few things for Stella on the bed before heading downstairs.

On her journey, she's met with several pieces of stray clothing. Even though there's no one home to care, no one here to witness the aftermath of the scene they've made, Reed can't help the furious blush that spreads like wildfire over her cheeks. An instinctive hand drifts to her face, a vain attempt to cover it. Jesus Christ, it looks like a hurricane ripped through the hallway.

Perhaps one had.

She puts a few things right, hangs her coat, stores her purse away. Then her stomach makes itself known again and damn, she’s starving, probably should've eaten more last night. The clothes will have to wait.

Reed busies herself in the kitchen, putting on coffee and scouring the fridge for adult appropriate sustenance, anything beyond cartoonish cereal or yogurt tubes. Luckily, Reed eats like she's taken a nutrition class or two, so they've at least got some eggs and fruit in the house, some multigrain toast that'll have to do. As she pulls everything out to prep, setting it on the counter, she hears the telltale padding of footsteps.

“Looks like we properly enjoyed ourselves last night,” Stella says rounding the corner, probably taking in the wreck of strewn clothing all over the floor.

And the coffee’s just finished up so Reed removes the pot and grabs a mug. She’s about to say something about the mess they’ve made when she looks up and stops abruptly, thankfully not spilling mid-pour like an idiot. Because she's almost 100 percent sure that she looks like an idiot right now, gaping at Stella, coffee pot in hand, unable to produce a coherent thought.

“What?” Stella says noticing her stare, a hint of concern edging her voice.

Reed realizes what she's doing and snaps back to pouring coffee, a self conscious smile masking her embarrassment. “Nice outfit.”

“You left it out,” Stella responds.

Truthfully, it's nothing more than an oversized t-shirt that Reed's never looked at twice. It's actually her husband’s from college and she'd only kept it because it's absurdly comfortable. Comfortable and soft perhaps, but not sexy - she would never use the word sexy to describe it. And yet Stella still manages to wear the shit out of the old tattered thing. It hangs from her lean frame, practically drowning her, and somehow it looks like the best thing Reed owns.

What the ever living fuck.

“I know - uh…” Reed says handing Stella the steaming mug that's taken far too long to make its way into her hands. “It just doesn't look like that on me. Or anyone, frankly.”

Stella accepts it with a knowing smile and a gentle, “Hush.” Then she props herself against the counter next to Reed, mug cradled to her chest, long t-shirt barely covering the tops of her thighs, and peering at the assortment of food.

“Scrambled okay?”

“It’s fine. Can I do anything?”

“Um, there’s bread for toast if you want it,” Reed suggests nodding toward the loaf sitting next to the fruit.

The next ten minutes pass in some domestic alternate reality, Stella sipping coffee in that fucking t-shirt while Reed hovers over the stove and plates their meal. It strikes Reed as strange, moving through this ritual with someone not her husband. Butterflies and blatant ogling had long since left their morning routine and she finds it so odd to have that back with anyone, let alone Stella. And it’s not that Stella’s drastically different in this environment, milling about her kitchen in morning-after wear. If anything she’s exactly the same, ethereal yet incredibly human, and Reed envies the cool ease in which she seems to navigate her surroundings.

For no particular reason, they eat standing at the counter. Caught up in conversation, it just happens, an organic decision that lends itself to that ‘thing’ between them. She’s had it with few people in her lifetime so it’s hard to identify. Something like a natural intimacy. It was there from that first crime scene and has followed them to autopsy bays, trashy bars and now kitchen counters. Always present even during these mundane but necessary hiccups like breakfast. Nothing has changed. And yet for Reed everything has changed.

When she’s with Stella, they seem to vibrate in the same corners of the world and everything feels the same.

They finish eating and there’s a bit of cleanup but it’s not too bad. Reed rinses the dishes and then leaves the rest of it in the sink, reasoning that she’ll get to it later. No use wasting time on it now. Not when Stella’s back to leaning against the counter and looking at her like she's got a secret, and that secret is all the ways to make Reed weak.

And it's not fair because Reed’s confused, she doesn't know how the rest of this is supposed to play out. She still can't pinpoint why Stella’s not racing out the door. Even cordially, even with every intention of seeing her again. And Reed can't help it but something inside of her, call it intuition, is telling her that something is amiss.

Not only that, but Stella had spoken of some shopping she'd been putting off and fully implied that they could make a day of it together. A day wandering about London with Stella Gibson. Shopping. It sounds like the sort of thing she might see in a foreign film and never experience in real life. And sure, it's not that big of a deal. But their rapport had been built on fighting monsters in the dark, not sleeping in and breakfast and shopping. This side of Stella feels almost more intimate than sleeping with her, a glimpse behind the veil. And maybe Stella’s simply not as distant in relationships as Reed might have anticipated. Not that they're in a relationship, no she can't think like that, not when she has no idea what this is. Fuck.

Perhaps Reed’s just too self deprecating, too eager to believe that her presence alone couldn’t hold Stella’s interest.

Either way, she can’t shake the looming feeling that something’s not right.

But then Stella’s lightly tugging at the loose fabric of Reed’s shorts, vying for her attention with a rather alluring glint of blue. So Reed drifts in front of Stella, yielding to the unspoken request, hands floating to the sides of Stella’s t-shirt. She tries not to smirk as Stella continues toying with the hem of her shorts. And Reed admires the curve of Stella’s silhouette beneath the thin cotton, brushing her thumbs in long strokes over Stella’s ribs until there’s a slight wince.

“Sorry,” Reed says, a little startled because somehow she’d forgotten about the harsh blues and purples that marred her porcelain skin. It was dark last night but Reed remembers seeing it, remembers trying to assess the healing without being noticed, remembers trying to convince herself that there’d be a time to talk about it. Spector. Everything he’d done.

Before they’d first met for dinner, Reed had spoken with Rose and heard about the awful way Spector’s case unfolded. Amidst the chaos of moving to London, she’d felt incredibly guilty for her absence. But it was nothing compared to the guilt she felt upon seeing Stella’s injuries, nothing compared to reading about it the next day after a quick google search. Accused Strangler Attacks Two Officers. There hadn’t been many conclusive details, just that Stella and Tom Anderson had sustained non-life-threatening injuries during the attack and were being treated at Royal Victoria Hospital.

With so little to go on, the possibilities running through Reed’s mind remain endless. How far down the drain had things gone after she left? What if something truly horrible had happened? But Reed tries to remind herself that she’s seen Stella’s body. Bruising aside, she seems fine. Physically fine, anyway. No reason to continue jumping to conclusions, no reason to push.

Maybe it’s selfish but Reed still wants to ask her about it. Wants the reassurance that nothing had been broken beyond repair.

“It’s fine,” Stella says. “Think we just got a little carried away last night.”

“Shit,” Reed whispers. Her eyes clamp shut, immediately remembering how rough she’d been with Stella when they’d come back. Could she have really been so stupid? Completely lost her mind at the idea of getting Stella undressed? “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about it.”

“Don’t be.” Reed opens her eyes glancing up at Stella, unsure whether or not to believe her. “I liked it.”

And then Stella’s giving her that look, the one that makes her pulse race and sends heat tearing through her core. It’s pathetic how quickly she melts under this particular look, how quickly she loses herself to its pull. Maybe that’s why she’d acted so careless last night. And it’s no excuse but Reed’s willing to cut herself a break because Stella’s moving towards her, which means most of her thoughts will be useless in a matter of seconds anyway.

For the second time this morning, Reed allows Stella to distract her from restless thoughts with a coaxing brush of her lips. In Stella’s defense, Reed is easily swayed, too easily swayed and more than willing to be lost to the nuances of this particular distraction. Her hair for instance, and the way the unruly blonde strands tousle away from more orderly curls. It’s so different than the short tufts of brown hair that she’s grown accustomed to. And her smell, Reed’s not sure that Stella even wears perfume but something about the smell of her is so distinctly feminine in a way that’s different from her own. Fascinating. Enticing. Then there’s the strength in Stella, the force of her touch that’s not always rough but definitely confident and definitely there in the press of her body, the swipe of her tongue. Even now as Stella pulls her closer, hands on Reed’s hips and sneaking up the hem of her tank top.

Afraid to hurt her, Reed doesn’t exactly return the force of Stella’s touch. She keeps her hands at Stella’s face and her neck, gentle caresses. It’s definitely a contrast to heat of Stella’s mouth working against her own and the pressure of Stella’s hips pressed invitingly against her. And Reed can feel Stella pushing her, asking for more. So Reed skims her hands down to Stella’s breasts, palming them lightly and Reed can feel her sigh into their kiss, relief and frustration. Stella rolls herself against Reed with intent, pushing herself into Reed’s hands before dragging her teeth adamantly against Reed’s lip.

Then Stella’s breaking their kiss, pressing her hand to Reed’s against her chest and saying, “You’re not going to break me, you know.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she assures, still breathing heavily. After that wince earlier, Reed’s not quite buying it. “I’ll tell you.”

“You didn’t last night.”

“Sometimes a little pain isn’t the worst thing.”

As much as Reed hates to admit it, Stella has a point and hearing her say it is a turn on. But the fact of the matter is that Stella’s still injured and needs to heal. The doctor in her knows how painful bruised ribs can be and the more Reed thinks about it, the more angry she gets with Spector, the more angry she gets with herself. It’s a slippery slope into the dredges of overwhelming concern and distress over the fact that she still doesn’t know the whole story.

But Stella’s looking at her like she’s a lifeline, a mixture of arousal and something a little desperate that Reed immediately hates. For a brief moment she thinks she might understand what’s off, what’s bothering Stella. Spector. Maybe she’s projecting and maybe Stella’s fine but for a split second, Reed swears that she just knows. But then it’s gone and Stella’s tugging at her seductively, reeling her back in and Reed wonders if she’s imagined the entire thing. And if she could bring Spector back and administer bodily harm, she would, that’s how much she hates whatever the fuck was in Stella’s eyes. Because Stella’s the embodiment of confidence and Reed loves that about her, aspires to find it in herself. Nothing, especially not that asshole, should be able to interfere with that.

“Sit,” Reed says simply, falling back into the moment as she steps back a bit. And Stella’s brow furrows momentarily so Reed nods to the counter behind Stella and repeats, “Sit.”

Eyeing her with a combination of curiosity and anticipation, Stella reaches behind her and sits easily on the smooth surface. It makes her taller than Reed but not by much and Reed thinks that might actually make this perfect. And then Reed wishes she could stop time. Just for a few seconds so that she might find a way to capture this moment, preserve it and keep it somewhere secret, tucked away and safe. Because the image Stella presents so demurely on the counter, bed hair and bare faced, it’s somewhere along the lines of fantasy and reality, converged and distilled into absolute arrest. A beautiful snapshot of life that Reed would like to always remember. And so fucking sexy. This t-shirt is really doing it for her.

Memory secured, Reed steps forward into the crux of Stella’s legs and greets her with a searing kiss and a firm grip to her thighs. If Stella wants a little abandon, Reed will attempt to give it to her without threatening her wounds. And Stella shows her appreciation, pulling at Reed’s jaw and assaulting her mouth as Reed runs her hands farther up Stella’s legs. Then Reed’s fingertips make it all the way to Stella’s ass without encountering anything, nothing, no underwear. Good. Convenient.

Smiling into their kiss, Reed pulls back to arrange Stella’s hips closer to the edge of the counter, tugging the hem her new favorite garment out of the way. Stella spreads her legs wider and breathes into Reed’s hairline, hands roaming over her shoulders, palming her through the flimsy material of her tank top.

And then Reed’s mouth is at Stella’s pulse, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin there as her fingers find the slick warmth of Stella’s folds. There’s really no point in teasing her, not when all Reed wants to do is absolve her of these recent weeks. Reed takes a breath, a moment to draw on her own sense of determination. She’s getting less nervous and more confident, she knows that she can give Stella what she wants but it still takes a minor personal pep talk.

A few swipes over her wet clit leaves Stella a flurried mess, panting in Reed’s ear and yeah, she’s feeling pretty confident. Stella’s fingers splay and pull Reed closer, warm breaths of gratitude pressed along her hairline. It makes Reed think that this might not last long because Stella’s humming, eager and ready for anything she’s willing to offer. So Reed easily pushes two fingers inside of her and it’s like velvet heat. Having touched herself, she knows she should expect it but Stella is just so incredibly soft, so soft and warm that Reed can hardly comprehend it. This angle makes it surprisingly easy to adjust her speed and pressure and Reed uses the leverage of her body to anchor her hand. God, it's incredibly erotic fucking her like this. She could get used to the idea of finding all the ways to make Stella unravel.

Then she feels Stella freeze before she hears it.

The distinct call of “mum!” Creaking door. Soft thud. Shuffling feet.

Heart pounding, instinct kicks in and she pulls her fingers from the slickness of Stella’s heat, stepping back just in time for Stella to lock her legs shut as Charlotte rounds the corner, followed by Jane.

“There you are!” Charlotte says beaming and then very quickly shifting focus to Stella. “Who’re you?”

Reed feels most of her organs plummet through the floor as she glances toward Stella. Much to Stella’s credit, she tries to smile and looks relatively unshaken if not suitably fucked, lips swollen and knees shut together.

“What on earth are you two doing here?” Reed asks with a vain attempt to keep her voice light and neutral. And her fingers are sticky with Stella’s arousal so she wipes them quickly on the cotton shorts, tugging them down and trying not appear alarmed. Reaching for her youngest, she tells herself to act natural as Stella slides off the counter to stand beside her.

“Dad needed to drop us off early,” Jane says, eyeing Stella warily as Charlotte latches onto Reed’s leg in a hug.

“Very early, huh?”

Heavier footsteps follow.

“I tried calling-” Daniel says rounding the corner before halting abruptly. His eyes zero in on Stella, on her state of undress. He looks back to Reed then back to Stella. A table tennis match of emotions plays out across his face as he takes in his surroundings. It might be comical, the stunned look, the entire situation at large, if she wasn’t so absolutely fucking mortified. What kind of sick reality-

“Are you mad?” Charlotte asks worriedly, looking up at the grimace on her face.

“No, baby, I’m not mad,” Reed says giving her a reassuring squeeze.

God, this is a nightmare. She needs the girls out of here, she needs Stella out of here, she needs to know why the hell Dan’s dropping them off a day early. He's barely had them for 12 fucking hours. And she redacts her first answer because yes, she's very mad. But she needs everyone upstairs and out of earshot before she can decide exactly how mad.

“Listen,” Reed says, bending down to Charlotte’s level. “This is my friend, Stella,” she explains in her best ‘mom promises there's nothing wrong’ voice. And christ, Stella’s never going to speak to her again. “Why don’t you take you her upstairs and show her your new doll?”

“What were you guys doing?” Jane asks looking around and shit, suddenly it feels like there's underwear scattered literally fucking everywhere.

“Jane, take Charlotte and Stella and go upstairs.”

“But-”

“Now.”

There’s a moment where Jane decides how defiant she’d like to be, how far to push her limits.

“Fine,” she huffs, walking from the kitchen as Charlotte trails behind her, eyes big with worry.

Reed sends her the most genuine smile she can muster. “I'll be up in a few minutes,” she says and then a whispered, “I’m so sorry,” to Stella who tiptoes around to follow the girls. And she just shakes her head with an empathetic tilt, Don’t worry about it.

Don’t worry about it, what a joke.

Once everyone’s down the hall, Reed turns her attention back towards Dan. His face is currently redder than a cherry tomato, acrimony and distress carving a harsh line in his brow. She hears the girls tread up the stairs and waits a beat to make sure she won’t be heard. And once they're fully out of earshot, she braces herself, says a prayer that she doesn't start crying out of anger or embarrassment. It could go either way at this point.

“Let’s start with: when exactly did you try calling?” Reed asks, trying to keep her voice level.

“I tried your cell 30 minutes ago! And I texted you.”

“What about Lydia’s landline?”

“Tanya, I don’t have time to call every number in the book when there’s an emergency,” he says spitefully and fuck him, yes he does. If she doesn't answer the phone, he sure as hell better call every number in the goddamn book before attempting to leave their children anywhere.

“What if I hadn’t been here? What would you have done? Just dropped them here?”

“I would’ve figured it out.”

“Sure you would have,” because that's his answer for everything. Something empty and pointless that sounds decent after the fact.  “What kind of emergency could be so important that-”

“It’s a client emergency.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Don’t.”

“Dan, you can’t ask to take them for the weekend and then change your mind. I need to be able to count on you when you say you’re going to take them.”

“It’s an emergency!”

“It’s not an emergency,” Reed admonishes. If she could count the number of times he's missed something for a client emergency. There can only be so many emergencies before it comes down to a matter of priorities, plain and simple. “‘Someone’s in the hospital’ is an emergency. This is just typical.”

Even as she says it, she knows it sounds bitter, she can hear it in her voice. But truthfully, she doesn't care. She's given him leeway and she's given him chances, partly because she feels so terminally at fault for being the one to split up their family. His guilt trips work on her and she wishes they didn't. So most days she bites her tongue and tries not to argue with him. But not today because he fucked up his first time taking the girls this badly. Like ‘letting them walk in on her fucking someone’ badly.

“Forgive me,” he starts out condescendingly and oh boy, this should be good. “Forgive me if I don’t have patience for a lecture from you of all people. You clearly don’t give a fuck about me or this family anymore.”

“Excuse me?!” Dammit she's yelling. He's getting to her and she's losing her temper. This can't happen, she's stronger than that.

“Is this the real reason we’re all moving? Why I’m looking for a new job? So you can live out some lesbian fantasy while the rest of us wait around for you to get it out of your system?”

First, she gapes at him. Mouth open indignantly, ready to fire off a string of words that undoubtedly start with “fuck” and end with “you.” But that's childish and she doesn't need the girls to hear her so she takes a deep breath and reigns it in, tries to compose herself.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” she finally settles on, her voice a step from shaking. But Dan’s not as cognizant of his volume as she is, and he's ready to unleash a lot of pent up emotions on her.

“Then what did I just walk in on? Who the hell is that? I mean, christ, she’s up there with our kids. Do you even know her?!”

“Stella has absolutely nothing to do with this!”

*

“Why are my parents fighting about you?” Jane asks slightly upset and more than a little confused by the strains of arguing that they're hearing upstairs. Thankfully Charlotte is occupied, sifting through her overnight bag and looking for a doll as they sit in the girl’s shared bedroom.

As soon as they'd come upstairs, Stella quickly grabbed a pair of pajama pants sitting out on Reed’s unmade bed. Afterwards checking in with the girls had overridden the part of her brain screaming that this whole situation was the most absurd thing that could have possibly happened. And now she sits on the floor, waiting patiently for Charlotte to find her doll while Jane barely attempts to disguise the fact that she's listening for snippets of her parents fighting.

“Sometimes grown ups fight over one thing when they’re really upset about something else.”

“So they're fighting about you even though they're mad about something else?”

“I assume.”

And it's not a lie because none of this is really about Stella. It's about change and responsibility, hurt and commitment. In the end, she has nothing to do with those things, naked in Reed’s kitchen or otherwise.

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“A lot of things about being a grown up don’t make much sense.” “A lot of things about being a kid don’t make sense either,” Jane pouts before perking up at another round of heated words drifting through the ceiling. Thank god Charlotte's so engrossed in her task that Stella only has to really worry about one of them.

“You’re very smart.”

Jane smiles a little at the compliment and then takes a moment to really look at Stella. Guarded brown eyes form a window into which Stella can see gears spinning, some serious analysis and attitude at work. “So you’re my mum’s friend?”

“Yes, we used to work together.”

Stella can't blame Jane for being suspicious of her, it might be alarming if she weren't. Even if the twelve year old didn't fully understand what she saw downstairs, she's getting old enough to infer certain things. Maybe not a full picture, but one where passive excuses and obvious lies don't cut it. And Stella remembers her conversation with Reed over the phone a few nights ago, listening to her regale the traumas of a rather intense interrogation with the children. The prospect of trying to explain similar things to Reed’s girls without her consent makes Stella’s stomach twist.

“Why are you in pajamas?”

“It got very late,” Stella starts, trying not to smile at the sharp intent behind Jane’s question. “And your mum was kind enough to let me sleep here.”

“Like a sleepover?”

“Something like that.”

Mulling this over, Jane continues to openly stare at Stella, even as she seems to come to terms with her answer. Stella hasn't been observed this intently by a child in a long time, and it's only fitting that she should be in post-sex attire on top of it. Briefly, she feels more self conscious than she had downstairs.

“I love sleepovers,” Jane finally says rather matter of factly. “But my mum never lets me have them.”

“She does too,” Charlotte says, attention divided between the two of them and her doll, which she's now priming for show.

“Hardly ever.”

Charlotte’s arranged her doll’s hair just so and officially deems her fit enough to show Stella. The little one pridefully points out this and that about the doll, who has blonde hair and seems remarkably skilled at bending her flexible plastic limbs. Stella ‘ah’s at all the right moments, only about half understanding the tidbits of information being babbled in her direction. And then she notices Jane actively tuning them out as a few more choice words filter upstairs.

“Jane do you have a favorite?” Stella asks her, hoping to fulfill her end of this arrangement by distracting the girls until their parents are finished.

“Yes she does,” Charlotte answers when Jane ignores her question. “It’s Jade.”

“Why don't you come over here and show me Jade?”

“I know what you're doing,” she responds looking directly at her now, sass and aggravation both in full gear. “You just don't want me to hear.”

Stella waits a moment and susses the child out before she explains, “I don’t think your mum would like it.” Jane listens but isn’t convinced and Stella continues with a bit of universal information, “And it’s not polite to listen in on other people’s conversations.”

“I wouldn’t have to if they’d just tell me the truth,” Jane says heatedly but her admission is colored with dejection, and Stella knows the feeling. She remembers being that young and understanding so little. She remembers not being able to make sense of the life surrounding her in all of its glory and humility, beauty and gore.

“I know it’s frustrating,” Stella tells her quietly. And she's about to deliver an untruth that she knows this situation requires. “But it’s only because they love you.”

“That’s what they say.”

“That’s because it’s true.”

*

“How long have you been seeing her?” Dan asks, crossing his arms and widening his stance like it gives him more of a right to speak to her this way. Men.

“That’s none of your business.” “If she’s going to be around the girls it's my business,” he says indignantly.

“She wouldn’t be if you’d spent the weekend with them like you were supposed to.”

He gets quiet and looks fixated on her left shoulder, something intense and tumultuous forming in his mind. His voice is low and even when he asks her.

“Were you having an affair?”

It’s a fair question. Especially considering the fact that she'd almost slept with Stella before the split. But she hadn't so she could answer this question truthfully and live with herself when it was asked.

“No.”

He nods harshly, succinctly and stares at the floor for a long while. Apparently he believes her. Or maybe he doesn’t, she can’t say for sure, but he’s certainly weighing his next move. And there it is, his eyes. The ones she’d fallen in love with. Pleading and puppy dogged, large and wanting. They’re staring into her and it’s like watching a home movie on VHS. Archaic and out of date. Nostalgic all the same.  

“Tanya, I’m trying,” he implores. “I want to make this work.”

And it would be so easy. It would be so easy to fall into this trap, the one that’s allowed her to stay with him for this long. That mask of caring, the one that says ‘I’ll do better, forgive me.’ She can’t take it anymore.

“Stunts like today - dropping the girls off out of nowhere, saying that I missed your call… It doesn’t feel like you’re trying. It feels like you’re making excuses.”

“What do you want?!” he says and it’s booming, the kind of volume you get at a sports event. “I’m looking for a new job! I’m looking for a place down here. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Just be there for them, it's that simple,” she says softly, trying to bring the conversation down to an appropriate decibel. “I don’t understand why that’s such a hard concept to grasp.”

He hangs his head a little and Reed watches as Stella’s lacey underwear catches his eye. He blinks hard and looks away, taking a moment to collect himself. “Look if this is something you have to do, I’ll find a way to get over it.” He’s looking at her now, directly and rationally, and she worries this might be her downfall. Because anger is one thing and logic is another. “But you made a commitment to this family and we should at least try to make it work. The girls deserve it.”

It stings her somewhere deep inside, somewhere where the guilt she harbors over the entire situation festers and grows. The girls. What the girls deserve. She’s gone over it so many times in her head and it’s what’s kept her from leaving a thousand times over. It’s unsustainable, this idea of staying together just for the sake of their children.

“Please don’t tell me what the girls deserve. Please don’t do that. Not when you’re breaking plans with them.” “God dammit none of this would be happening if you’d just let us be a family! I didn’t do that Tanya, you did.”

“Leave.” It comes out low and gravelly. She’s done with this, she’s done going over what’s been done and what’s been said. It’s not part of her prescription, it’s not part of moving forward. “I’m not having this conversation with you again. Not right now. Not when you have such pressing client emergencies to get to.”

There’s a long few seconds in which he looks at her, eyes drilling into her in a way that feels intensely uncomfortable. But she doesn’t flinch and she doesn’t look away. She has nothing to hide. Well, not much, anyway. And when he realizes that the conversation’s come to an end, he takes one last lingering look around, observing the mess, observing Reed.

“Might want to clean up before they come back down,” he says bitterly before turning around, making his way back down the hallway and towards the door, closing it a bit too hard as he exits.

He doesn't say goodbye to his daughters.

Reed takes a few moments to breathe, tries to let the angry energy slip away with each exhale.

It’s a mostly failed effort.

But she won’t let him ruin this day. Far from her initial imaginings, it’s still her day to claim and claim it she will.

So she gathers the discarded clothing in her arms and marches upstairs to deposit it behind the closed door of her bedroom. Then she goes to the bathroom and takes several deep breaths, splashing cool water over her face as she braces herself to face Stella. There are some things that you just can't come back from and this feels like one of them. Why can't she have anything?

Terrified, Reed slips quietly out of the bathroom and approaches the cracked door to the girls’ room, a sliver of light bleeding into the hallway. She pushes it open gently and sees that Charlotte and Jane have very specifically lined up their favorite dolls all in a row with each of their best accessories. Her girls seem enraptured in explaining the intricacies of each doll and the relationships they all have to each other. Reed’s heard it countless times.

And she sees that Stella has thrown on a pair of fleece pants with a plaid pattern, a holiday gift from her husband two years ago. She’s sat down purposefully before the lineup listening as best as an adult can to the rapid back-and-forth of her children enthusiastically rambling over each other. Reed owes her big time, it seems like she may never be able to dig herself out of this woman's debt.

Then Charlotte notices her peeking with a wide toothy smile, “Mum! Come play with us!”

“Inside voices,” Reed says softly at her youngest’s shriek of excitement. And she ventures further in the room as Stella turns looking over her shoulder. She doesn't look like she hates Reed forever. All things considered she looks entirely normal, that's a good sign. “How's everything in here?”

It's a question mostly directed at Stella but Jane quickly replies, “We’re showing Stella how to play.” As if the wide arrangement of dolls wasn't clue enough.

Reed settles herself on the edge of Jane’s bed and teasingly asks, “Is she any good?” Stella gives her a subtlety admonishing glance and Reed just grins.

“We haven't started yet, come play with us and you can be Delia,” Charlotte says quickly as incentive.

Reed laughs a little, somewhat mystified by how unaffected they all seem up here. Then as if on cue, Jane’s asking, “Did Dad leave?” And reality quickly hemorrhages into their world of make-believe. And everybody’s silent, looking at Reed with big eyes. Well, except for Stella, who's politely looking down, a small attempt to give her some space if she needs it.

“He did.”

“He didn't say goodbye,” Jane says quietly and there's a small note of hurt in it.

“I know, I'm sorry. He was in a hurry, remember.”

“Yeah,” she says. Charlotte looks at Jane trying to gauge her reaction, she usually takes note from her sister on how to feel during these situations. Reed’s not sure if she's glad of that yet. But then Jane’s perking up. “Did he tell you about the V&A? He promised you'd take us.”

“What’s this now?”

“He promised to take us to see the Hollywood dresses at the V&A. And then when he was dropping us off he promised you'd take us instead.”

“You want to go to a museum?” Jane nods. Reed’s always been proud to have bright and inquisitive children but she never honestly thought they’d ask to go to a museum for fun. “Charlotte you too?” Charlotte looks at Jane and nods enthusiastically.

“They're supposed to have the costumes from Titanic!”

Ah, bingo. Jane’s newest obsession with epic romantic films, specifically Titanic. And Jane’s never expressed too much interest in boys yet but Reed wonders if she’ll have a love sick teenager on her hands before she knows it.

“Stella can come too!” Charlotte adds. “And then we can finish our game.”

“Now wait a minute, girls-”

“She said she would play with us.”

“Stella's a very busy person with a lot to do. Maybe she can play another time.”

“But then she'll miss the V&A!” Jane wines. “It's going to be so fun! They’ve got so many dresses!”

“Please!”

Never underestimate the energy of an 8 and 12 year old during their post-breakfast sugar stride.

Gracious as ever, Stella sits patiently with a warm smile, allowing Reed to take the lead on this one. And yes, Reed can envision the way her girls might gravitate towards Stella, because doesn't everybody, but she certainly wasn’t expecting this level of interest. Then again, she’d offered to play. And they fall almost immediately in love with anyone willing to indulge their games. She hadn’t considered that. Then again, she hadn’t considered most of how this morning would unfold.

“Why don't you let me and Stella talk for a minute in the hallway, alright?”

Reed gives the girls a pointed look as Stella gets up and then there's a quick, “Behave,” before shutting the door softly behind her.

“First of all,” Reed says turning to her and leaning her shoulder against the wall. “I am so sorry,” she whispers. Before Stella can say anything she’s hurriedly adding, “Second of all, you absolutely do not have to placate them. Don’t feel the least bit guilty about it.”

Stella looks at her with understanding eyes that glitter with amusement.

“Breathe.”

“I'm so embarrassed.”

“Don't be.”

“How can you say that?”

“Well I'm the one who practically exposed myself to your children,” says pulling at the ends of her t-shirt and there's a hint of laughter in her voice. Thank god for that. “Not an ideal first impression.”

“I'm so sorry. I don't know why he's like this, I don't know why I expected this to be any different than-”

“Shhh,” Stella says running her palms over Reed’s arms. Her touch is so calming, why is it so calming? Why do things seem to make more sense through her eyes? “Everything's fine.”

“How are you so unphased by this?!” Reed practically bursts because it's just unnatural. It's unnatural to be so lovely and perfect and calm when the world is falling apart. “Why aren't you running from this flat? I live here and I want to run!” Stella chuckles and Reed goes on, “Seriously?”

Stella shrugs, smiling at her. So Reed takes her advice and breathes because Stella must be doing something right, and at this point it wouldn't hurt to listen to her. And after centering herself a bit, she opens her eyes and is met with Stella's inviting beauty in full force. It's no wonder her children are already in love with her. The mesmerizing way she manages to command and comfort in the same manner as a winding river or steady breeze.

“Sounds like they like you.”

“They're charming.”

“You say that now,” Reed teases, lacing her fingers through Stella’s and for a split second she feels drastically younger, immature and unaffected by the madness of the outside world. She wonders what this day would have been like if the last 20 minutes simply never happened. What it would be like to spend the day with her. And perhaps that's not totally lost but it'll be a much different sort of day than the one she’ll never know. “Listen, you're welcome to come but please don't feel pressured.”

“Would it be better for you if I didn't?”

“No - I mean, you want to?”

“There are worse things to do on a Saturday.”

“What about shopping?”

“There's always tomorrow.” Reed looks bewildered.

“Okay.”

*

“Was it everything you hoped it would be and more?” Reed asks Jane as they all sit contentedly with their lunch in a cafe a few blocks from the museum. It's quaint and trendy, which seems to be the theme these days. Small cafes with a variety of organic healthy options and unique coffee blends, as if anyone can really tell them apart. Little trinkets and small plants decorate the tables and walls, meant to give it that homey feel and Reed likes it. Must be why they keep making them all like this.

Jane takes a comically large bite of her sandwich and Reed anticipates that she’ll only eat half. And she probably should have let her daughters split one considering how large they are, but she likes to give them the opportunity to finish if they're hungry enough. A rare occurrence with this much food but it happens. Thankfully Jane minds her manners in front of Stella and doesn't immediately jump to answer until she's finished chewing. In the meantime there's some vigorous nodding.

“I liked Dorothy,” Charlotte says. “Even though the red shoes weren't as sparkly as I thought.”

“They're very old,” Stella points out. “75 years, remember?”

“Yeah, that's as old my mum.”

“Charlotte,” Reed says trying not to laugh. “Since when am I 75?”

“I don't know… How old are you?”

“Not that old, finish your lunch.”

Stella’s eyes laugh at her from across the table as she forks through her salad.

“Stella how old are you?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Curious.”

“Charlotte,” Reed scolds her.

“What did I say wrong?”

“Nothing.” Stella replies simply. “I'm 41.”

“That's old.”

Reed pinches the bridge of her nose.

“I'm sure it must seem so.”

“You don't look that old,” Jane says eyeing Stella curiously.

“Thank you.”

“I hope I'm pretty like you when I'm 41,” Charlotte says.

Stella raises her eyebrows trying to suppress an amused grin.

“Alright, that's enough you two. Leave Stella alone.”

“I was just being nice!”

Reed holds Stella’s eyes for a long moment, the words help me shooting from her eyes with a subtle shake of her head. Stella can't help but laugh, and it’s a real one.

The girls finish up their food without much more embarrassment on Reed’s behalf. And as they leave, Charlotte takes Stella's hand without giving her much choice in the matter. Her youngest is obviously enamored with Stella and seeing them together suddenly gives Reed pause. Because Charlotte takes to a lot of people, so it's not entirely out of character. But this is Stella.

For the most part, Reed can handle the unwanted visions of how she might end up hurt in all this, hurt falling for someone who doesn't ask to be fallen for. And as much as she kids herself, she'd probably started falling for Stella the moment she saw her. But her children are another matter entirely. Reed’s not blind, Stella's the dangerous kind of alluring that pulls you in and asks for nothing. And when it's gone you're left wondering why you felt so entitled to any sort of claim in the first place. It’s the kind of dangerous that doesn’t go well with children, with commitment.

Maybe she’s just being overprotective.

Under this new lens, Reed looks for signs of discomfort in Stella. Perhaps she should tell Charlotte not to cling. But as she looks on, Stella seems fine with the new charm dangling playfully around her wrist. She listens intently as Charlotte twists and talks, bouncing as the four of them walk down the street. And she’s entirely herself, as she is with anything, somehow perfectly Stella and somehow perfectly not. Because Reed’s watching her with a child, her child, and watching Stella with children is something else.

Then Jane looks up at her questioningly, and Reed realizes that she’s gone a bit quiet under the weight of her thoughts. And now her daughter’s eyes look up at her, searching to see if something’s wrong. Reed gives her a smile.

“Did you have fun?” she asks her softly, grabbing her hand with a gentle squeeze.

Jane nods and looks to Charlotte and Stella, eyes lingering and then turning back to Reed. “Stella’s nice,” she observes quietly.

“She is. Do you like her?”

Jane nods a little less enthusiastically, a little more thoughtfully. “Is she spending the night again?”

Reed has to bite back the rush of fear at her daughter’s question before realizing how innocent it probably is. “I don't think so,” she says trying to gauge whether or not Jane’s upset by her answer. But her eldest seems entirely willing to accept either option, nodding slightly in consideration. “She'll probably want to go home. I don't think she was expecting such a hectic afternoon with you two.”

Jane laughs and Stella looks over at her, a gentle smile settled across her face. And Reed is happy.

A/N: Yo I am so sorry for the delay between chapters. Writing is actually super difficult for me so it takes a LOT of time to get this stuff out. Hope that anyone following this story will find it worth while to stick around. Much appreciation to those who have kept with it xoxo

[bhealthline]

Beautiful Labradoodles For Sale Illinois

By Edward Cole

Labradoodle is a relatively new breed, made by crossing two of the most popular dog breeds, Labrador retrievers and Poodles. Combining desirable qualities of these two breeds, the breeders wanted to design one special breed, a hypoallergenic guide dog with high intelligence and lovable nature. Resulting dogs are so lovely that they are widely popular today. Find Labradoodles for sale Illinois. Thanks to the fact there are different varieties of Labradoodles, because different sized Poodles are used in the process, this dog can be Standard, Medium or Miniature. The size varies accordingly, and Miniatures are up to sixteen inches high, while Standards may have up to twenty four inches. The breed itself is not officially recognized yet, and some differences are possible, depending on the variety. When it comes to the quality of their coats, there are three different types, hair type, wool type and fleece type. Hair type coat is more like Labradors have, and is more prone to shedding. Later types are with loose curls, thicker coats and shed very little. They can both be of different length, and might require occasional trimming, just like with Poodles. Labradoodles are generally quite healthy dogs. Nevertheless, make sure to buy your dog from a reputable breeder, who will provide health clearances for both parents. If you visit the breeder, you will have the opportunity to observe your puppy's mother and other siblings, and to see how your puppy will look alike when she grows up. If you don't care so much about the official recognition and dog shows, choosing Labradoodle might be your best choice, especially if you are interested in buying one playful, funny, lovable and energetic family dog. They are always in the mood for playing around, fetching balls, running and spending time with your family members. They are not sensitive to cold or hot weather, they don't drool and are quite polite. Even if you live in an apartment, you can still choose to have a Labradoodle. Maybe she would be happier living in a house with a backyard, but, if you provide enough exercise for her, on daily basis, everything will be just fine. Sociable as she is, she will enjoy spending time with all other family members, especially with children, and she will be really friendly with all other people coming to your home. Grooming is simple, just occasional brushing, ear-checking and nail clipping. Nail clipping may not be necessary at all, if your dog gets enough opportunities to run outside. Clean her teeth with a dog toothbrush regularly and don't give her a bath too often. In fact, if it isn't necessary, don't give her a bath. Wipe her coat with wet cloth, or use a brush instead. If you have to wash her, use some very mild shampoo. These highly energetic dogs require early socialization. They are highly intelligent and can be successfully trained. On the other hand, if they don't have an opportunity to spend some energy, they might become too intensive or unhappy. Your dog needs her exercise on regular basis, to remain happy and healthy. Spend a part of your day on the fresh air enjoying together.

About the Author:

Get a list of the things to keep in mind when choosing a dog breed and more information about beautiful Labradoodles for sale Illinois area at http://ift.tt/2ibDhSU now.

Beautiful Labradoodles For Sale Illinois from netdz http://ift.tt/2vr2lsq