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walker-bait-1973 · 1 year ago

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We Ain't Dead Part Four

A Daryl Dixon x Y/N Fanfiction

18+

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence, Alcohol, Mention of Suicide, Swearing, Nudity

Author's Notes: Our two heroes, Daryl and Y/N are on the run after their run-in with the Governor's men.

Master List

Chapter Three

Chapter 12: On the Move Again

Daryl and Y/N spent two more nights there in that department store. Daryl showed Y/N how to smoke thin slices of meat for jerky. They ate their fill from the freezer until they were stuffed.

Y/N shared some memories of growing up for Daryl to enjoy, which he did. It was interesting to him. It reminded him of Rick. A bit of melancholy loomed over him.

Early the second morning, they prepared to break camp. Y/N pulled the worn map out of her pack. They sat around the fire for discussion and agreed on the direction to take. It would keep them close to civilization for a while. Maybe they'd find some of the others. Someone had to have gotten out, right?

Y/N poured the remaining make-shift coffee over the fire putting it out. They did their best to barricade the door to keep out potential Walkers. A search of vehicles along the way proved to be in vain. Until finally, Daryl hotwired a beat-up station wagon. The vehicle had very little gas; and just made it close to their destination before running out. Continuing on foot, they scavenged the surrounding buildings. There was scarcely much around.

Daryl opened a walk-in freezer in a fast-food restaurant. He coughed, gagging from the smell of rot and decay. He flashed his light in and saw five people dead. It was obvious they’d killed themselves with a gun. Taking turns no doubt. Some people just weren’t made for this new and cruel world. Grimacing, he picked up the gun, some unused bullets, and shoved them in his pocket.

“Find anything?” Y/N asked as he closed the door. He shook his head. She didn’t need to see the gruesome scene in the freezer.

“C’mon."

They gathered up the little they found, and headed down the sidewalks, hugging the walls tight, going from side to side. On the outskirts, they cleared a home, and set up there for the night. Daryl found some jelly and stale crackers in the cupboard. Y/N was setting a fire in the fireplace while Daryl covered the windows with blankets. They barred the doors and plopped down in front of the fire.

Daryl stuck his fingers into the jelly, slurped it in and handed it to Y/N. She poured some down her throat. Daryl licked his fingers as she dipped a cracker into the jelly, ate it and then handed one to Daryl. Soon, she handed Daryl back the jar, and made her way deeper into the house for a better look. There was hardly anything worth pilfering. Disappointed, she went back into the living room to join Daryl for a lousy dinner of canned beans. It was decided they’d keep the smoked meat for emergencies.

The next morning, Walkers started busting in the door. They fought their way out the back and moved on.

Their days consisted of moving from place to place, looking for things to eat, possible places to settle in for a bit, and getting some real rest. Their nights were mostly wasted on keeping Walkers at bay, or fitful sleep. The places were either empty of anything worth eating or using, or they were destroyed by Walkers. They were continuously on the move.

They went on this way for several months. They looked worse for the wear and were nearly Walkers themselves by the time they got to one hopeful looking place. It looked as if it was still standing from the outside. The lawn was littered with some bits and pieces of Walkers, Humans, or both. They couldn't tell. Nor did they want to think about it.

"C'mon," Daryl grunted, shooting a stray Walker through the head. Y/N pulled the arrow, stomped the head down, and handed the arrow back to Daryl.

Daryl tapped the glass and looked through one of the windows, "I don't see anythin’." He knocked one more time, "Hey!" he yelled out. Nothing. He shrugged, "alright then…" he picked the lock, jiggled the door handle, and popped it open quickly. He pointed inside, holding a finger to his lips. He went in first, Y/N close behind, each clearing a room until they met back up in the living room.

"I can't believe this," Y/N said looking suspiciously about, "there's no dead ones in here, no human bodies… it's messy, but looks like whomever came in, left, and managed to keep Walkers out."

Daryl sniffed the air, "naw, just cleaned up real good." He pointed out a few small flecks of blood on the wall.

"Still, this is good for a night, maybe two."

"One night. Don't have enough food. No woods for huntin'. Can look 'round for field mice… ain't much meat on em though," he said, plopping down on the couch, putting his feet up on the arm of it.

"There was a bedroom that looked like it had some things left. Maybe we can find some clean clothes," Y/N said, pulling off her coat. Her shirt was caked with blood, mud, and sweat. Inside the room, she moved trinkets around, trying to find useful things. The drawers were pretty cleaned out, except for underwear and socks. Yeah, they left the practical stuff. Digging through the dresser, Y/N nabbed a handful of clean socks.

She rummaged through the closet, "bingo." She pulled some sweaters, clean button-down shirts, and jeans tossing them on the bed. Daryl stopped in the doorway. Y/N had some clean clothes on the bed and began peeling off her shirt. He sucked more jelly off his fingers and set the jar down. His eyes cast up and down her body curiously.

She started wiping their arms down the best she could with handkerchiefs she’d found in one of the drawers.

His eyes quickly darted over her body, seeing one of Y/N’s small round breasts reflected in the mirror, and as his eyes lowered the patch of dark hair between her legs. Swallowing hard, he turned quickly and finished his trek to the bathroom.

Y/N turned, hearing a sound. She turned around, but there wasn’t anything there, so she continued with her mission. She picked through the underwear drawer.

After a few minutes, Y/N spied Daryl in the mirror. He averted his eyes.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “Water for y'all in the sink. Caught some 'fore the pump quit if ya wanna wash up.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded and returned to the living room.

Y/N headed into the bathroom. She found some soap and started washing her filthy face. It was covered with dirt, dust, and walker blood. Her hair had grown down to her jawline now, and was matted against her face, she sighed.

“Here,” Daryl said behind her, “put your head down,” she tried to object. He held her in place, “It’s okay. Put your head down.” He’d grabbed a cup from the kitchen and poured the water over her head and scrubbed her hair. She closed her eyes, her scalp tingling. As he towel dried it, she straightened up, He wet the washcloth again and slowly wiped down her back in slow circular motions. She cringed at first, afraid of the touch. She’d only known pain intimately.

“S’okay,” he said softly, wiping the soap off. He wiped it with a towel, and then she wrapped the towel around her chest. When she turned around, his eyes were looking into hers. She touched his dirty face.

“Look,” he said, licking his lips. He unbuttoned his shirt. She was about to speak, but he gave her a forced smile. He dropped the shirt onto the floor. He turned around, exposing his back to her.

“Dad liked the belt, especially the buckle. We had a willow tree in the yard. On his drunk days, he’d tell me to go get a branch. I’d pick the thicker ones you know, that hung down? Because I knew they stung less. When I’d bring it back to him, he’d get really pissed and drag me outside to grab a long thin one. They hurt like a son of a bitch. Like a whip. I’d bleed for hours. He also used me for an ashtray, putting out his smokes on me.” He reached around pointing to a few scabbed over burns. Y/N traced some of the scars with her fingers and looked over at two Demons on his right shoulder blade. His muscles tightened under her tender touch, but then relaxed.

“I’m just like you,” he whispered, turning back around, “they’re battle scars. Shows you ain’t nobody’s bitch.”

She gave him a shy nod and went into the bedroom. He drained the sink, then used the cup in the back of the toilet water tank. He poured it over his head, washed his hair, and then with the last cup of water, washed his face and armpits. He tossed his shirt into the tub. Y/N came out of the bedroom dressed in new jeans, and a button- down flannel shirt.

“There’s men’s clothes,” she said pointing to the dresser. He nodded. She touched his shoulder as she passed. He went through the drawers. Finding a t-shirt, he ripped the sleeves off and shrugged into it. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. His hair was over his ears now and hanging in his eyes. He rubbed his chin, the hair was getting long. Shaking his head, he barely recognized himself.

He returned to the living room where Y/N placed two cans of beans in the coals of the fire.

“Five- star food tonight,” she said. He grimaced.

“Great,” he muttered. She pulled them from the coals with a rag and set them on the floor. They started eating.

"Only the best," Y/N muttered, scraping the bottom of her can. The food went way too fast, "who's still hungry?"

"Wait twenty minutes," Daryl said, "see if your still hungry. Here," he handed her a bottle of whisky.

"Where'd you get this?" She asked, twisting the cap off.

"Back at one of them restaurants," he answered, pouring water in his can, swishing it, drinking it down as he always did. Y/N gave him her can and took a sip of the booze. She hissed, "damn that's rough." It burned her throat as she coughed hard.

His lip curved upward slightly, "didn't say it was good. Give it here," he held out his hand. She handed it over, he took a long draw off it, his lips tightening. He set it down next to her.

"Have some more," he said, "help ya sleep tonight."

She hesitated.

“C’mon, catch up.”

"Catch up? Have you been into this already?" she asked.

He shrugged. Y/N was amused but didn’t realize what the original reason was. Daryl had finished up his beans, thinking about their time on the road, and learning more about Y/N through her stories. She was a hard ass just like him, with little fear. And after her reaction in the bathroom, he realized she, like him, had a hard time with interpersonal relationships.

He’d always felt so vastly different. That was apparent in the way he dressed, talked, and handled things. Completely made sense now why he resonated so well with her; he could be around her completely silent, and she understood. She didn’t look at him oddly when he ate snakes, or shit in the woods. She just accepted and pretty much did the same.

But after he saw more of her body, and he helped her wash her hair, he started to notice more than ever that she was a woman. She had those curves, she was feminine. She had slender fingers and shapely legs. And those breasts… That’s when he began feeling suddenly awkward and dipped into the booze taking a long draw off it before bringing it around to share.

She shook her head as she took another sip. He tipped it upwards with his finger. She coughed, her chest on fire. When she pulled the bottle from her lips, she pointed at him.

“Not nice.”

He snatched the bottle, another large swig and held it back out to Y/N, “C’mon,” he urged. She shook her head.

“C’mon!” he said loudly. Frowning, she grabbed the bottle from him and threw it into the fire. It shattered into shards and drew the flames higher from the alcohol.

“What’d ya do that for?” he asked, kicking at the empty cans. Y/N stood shielding herself from the cans as they flew past her.

“What’s the matter with you?” she shouted angrily. He started pacing like a rabid wolf.

“We can’t live like this!” he exclaimed, “Goin’ house to house, scroungin' for food, washin’ in toilet water!” He kicked over the coffee table. It broke into pieces.

Y/N grabbed his arm, “Daryl, it will get better. We’ll find a place.”

“Where?” he spread his arms wide, “Have ya seen what’s out there? This is fucking life now.” He dragged his hand along the mantel, knocking all the pictures down, glass fragmenting.

“It can’t be,” Y/N said, allocating space, “it won’t be. If we can’t find a place, we’ll make a place.”

He looked at her with tear-streaked eyes, “what?”

"We’re surrounded by building materials everywhere! Piles of wood, paneling, half -built houses… we can find a place, or go in the woods, set up a perimeter, and build one.”

“What 'bout walkers? How we gonna drag things to the woods, Y/N, bein' chased by walkers?”

“A little at a time,” she said slowly.

He kicked over a chair, grabbed his crossbow. He stormed off through the front door.

Y/N felt something on her cheek, and when she lifted it with her finger, realized it was a tear. She hadn’t truly cried since Beth. It's good for him to get some space. She proceeded to push broken glass closer to the fireplace with her boot as she began to sniffle, fighting tears and decided she’d gather blankets for bed, wanting to make things as comfortable as possible.

She heard the clanging of hubcaps and cans. Daryl was setting up the alarms across the porch steps.

The fire restocked with wood, the coals stirred up, creating a nice orange glow and radiating heat, Y/N laid down on the blankets. She was drifting in and out when the door opened back up.

Daryl shut the door quietly behind him before kicking off his boots, “what’s all this?”

"I set up camp for the night," Y/N said, opening her heavy-lidded eyes, "trying to make it more like home."

He snorted, "home? Y'all can remember what home was like? This place is better 'n the shit place I was at." He said this with a bite. He stood up and slipped out of his vest and jacket.

"No matter where we come from, we deserve a little comfort, so come on down here, it's so toasty," Y/N patted a pile of blankets.

"Naw, I'm good."

Looking over her shoulder, "get down here, Dixon. I went through the trouble of setting you up a bed, you're going to sleep on it. Besides, that couch stinks."

"What're ya talking about, woman?" he demanded, sniffing the couch, "smells fine to me."

"Yeah? And you carried around a dead opossum for two days in your pack. I'm not going to tell you again," she reached over and grabbed his ankle, tugging on it.

"Christ! If I come down there, will ya stop buggin’ me?"

"Yes," she vowed. Y/N chuckled as Daryl fell onto the blankets with another huff. He hated to admit it, but even the blankets felt better than the cot mattresses in the prison cells. He laid back, resting his head, his arms folded behind his head.

"Was that so hard?" she asked, "you're so damn stubborn." Daryl chewed his inner lower lip.

"I can take first watch tonight," she volunteered.

Daryl shook his head, "Naw… I'll take it."

Y/N said, "Look here… you rarely sleep. Let me help you out for a change. You know that we're probably safe tonight. And you're a light sleeper, Daryl! You'd hear anything anyway."

He hesitated. Y/N nodded at him, "you know I’m good at staying awake. I'm all caught up on my sleep…" She pointed to the curve under her eyes, "look at my circles compared to yours, Daryl… you look exhausted."

"Fine," he huffed, "lower the flames on the fire so we don't attract no one's eyes."

Y/N nodded, "I'll take care of it." She scrambled out of the blankets and poked around in the fire, moving out some of the smaller logs that were burning bright, "sucks, it was so warm in here."

"Survivin's more important than heat, Y/N," he said as his heavy lids closed.

Y/N grabbed her bow. She found a kitchen chair and slid it up to the front window.

Chapter 13: Claims

Y/N listened to Daryl breathing quietly. She began to hum lowly to herself to keep herself awake as the hours dwindled on. Towards dawn, she heard a shuffling of feet, and a man's voice, “What’s this?”

“Looks like someone’s here, look at the chimney,” another voice said. Y/N peeked between the window coverings just enough to see five men.

Daryl slid into his boots and glanced at Y/N as she looked over at him holding a finger over his lips. She walked quietly over and handed him his crossbow and tied up their bags. She shouldered them both, grabbed her spears just as the door kicked open. Daryl aimed the crossbow, Y/N her bow.

A tall man with gray hair and beard smiled a toothy grin, “Isn’t this cozy?”

“Turn round and leave,” Daryl said, steady.

Four more men peered in behind the first man.

“Why? This looks like a nice place to bed down for the night,” He eyed the cans of food, “looks like a great set up.”

“I claim that crossbow,” one said.

“I claim that bitch,” said one, looking at Y/N.

“I said leave,” Daryl frowned deeply. Y/N shot her bow, landing an arrow in the shoulder of the man who called her a bitch. He howled in pain.

The man in front laughed, “hold up there, mama,” he lifted his hands, “Name’s Joe.”

“Don’t care if your name is Jesus H. Christ. I ain’t gonna tell ya again,” Daryl growled his deep set eyes squinting in anger.

Suddenly, Daryl shot Joe in the leg, he fell down to one knee before he knew what hit him. Daryl shot the next guy in the chest, killing him instantly. The two others came in with guns and began to shoot up the place. Y/N rolled behind the couch to avoid a spray of bullets ricocheting all around them. She raised one spear, and threw it like a javelin, the sharpened point piercing one shooter’s chest pinning him to the door. Joe was screaming “Kill them!”

Daryl pulled his knives, ran forward thrusting one knife at Joe, slashing across his neck. He bled out, dying.

Daryl backed up, but not before cutting one of the last gunman’s arteries in his thigh.

“Son of a bitch!” The guy dropped his gun. Y/N slipped the gun into her hand and shot the guy who called her bitch. Daryl motioned her to follow him out the door. When they got outside, the walkers were coming, attracted to the noise and smell of fresh blood in the air.

“Walkers,” Y/N said. They ran off as fast as they could away from the house.

Chapter 14: Downpour

They passed through the next town without stopping. Fighting Walkers, scrounging food, moving on… and on… and on…

Y/N was dead on her feet. She stumbled over a stone, waking herself up. Daryl realized that she was ready to pass out. They’d been walking for days. He put a supportive arm around her and headed into the woods. She sat down like a lump as he set up camp. He started a fire and laid out blankets.

“Comere,” he said, patting a spot close to the fire. Y/N crawled over, and face planted into the blanket.

Daryl smelled the rain before he felt it. A downpour, thunder cracking. Y/N sat up, suddenly wide awake as fat drops of water beaded down on them.

“Shit!” Y/N yelled, both immediately drenched. The fire went out. They’d left their tent at the last house when they were overrun from Walkers.

Daryl got to his feet, "C'mon! This way!" They ran out towards the road, and spying a school, broke in. They slipped on the smooth floors with their wet boots.

Daryl pointed in different directions, as to where they were going to start and which way they were going to work the multitude of hallways. Y/N nodded, as she blockaded the door with old brooms and mops, wedging the door shut. She glanced out the muddied windows, covered with Walker prints. Walkers began following where they'd trekked to the front doors on the outside. As they neared it, she tapped Daryl's shoulder, "We need to move," she informed him, barely above a whisper. He nodded, motioning them to go.

The dark hallways proved more difficult to traverse than expected. There were barricades at different intervals; ruined clothing, old cans, and supplies littered the floor. There were some dead bodies torn to shreds with Walker bodies laid to rest around them, brains bashed in. Useless broken weapons could be seen strewn here and there, busted out windows to classrooms.

Daryl put his ear up to one door, the window still intact. As he did so, shadows lurked closer. The growls began and heavy dead hands slapping on the glass, busting it out near him. He slid away quickly, shaking the glass out of his hair, and grabbing a large wooden door stop, pressing it between the handle and the latch, to keep it closed.

“Are you alright?” She asked moving close to him, she searched his face and hair for glass shards. He had a few small cuts on his face.

“I’m fine…” he brushed her hand away and pointed his chin down the hallway with a quick jerk before wiping the water leaking from his hair down into his eyes with a grimy sleeve.

The two drowned rats continued their inspection for safety, fighting a few straggling Walkers in various places.

Daryl was desperate to find a place to set up, but Y/N had wandered off. He couldn’t find her, the wet footprints mixed in with the walker prints in blood and dirt all over the place and in different directions.

Daryl walked along until he came to the one place they hadn’t checked. The kitchen. He kicked open the door to it. Y/N spun around, bow ready, but she lowered it, “Sorry I wandered away. But the gas is still on,” she pointed to the stove. She’d turned on the industrial ovens and opened the doors.

Y/N was shivering, lips turning blue. Daryl felt the cold hitting him as well.

“We gotta get outta these clothes,” he said, dropping his jacket. If he paused to think about the fact that he was exposing himself to her, he'd have thought twice. But survival took precedence over everything.

Y/N went through her pack. All the extra clothes were drenched. Her eyes shot toward Daryl and back at her wet clothes.

"Ya wanna freeze to death? Ya'll are turnin' blue!" Daryl hissed; his shirt was already off.

Y/N turned away from him to take off her shirt. She wrung it out and laid it on the oven door. She slipped out of her jeans, socks, and underwear. She clapped one arm across her breasts, her other hand trying to cover below as she turned around. Daryl was attempting to hide his junk with his hands. He tried to avert his eyes. Y/N laid his clothes with hers on the large oven door.

“C’mere,” he said to her, holding out his arms forgetting completely about decency. Y/N hesitated, uncomfortable with the situation.

“C’mere,” he repeated. She went to him, and he wrapped his muscular arms around her, trying to share body heat. She wrapped her arms as well, pulling close together for equal distribution of said heat. They rubbed one another's arms, quickly forgetting their nudity, bent on survival. Their chests bumped hard together, creating heat. They pressed their foreheads together, shivering.

Some heat started to radiate from the ovens. Y/N lifted her head, her nose rubbing against Daryl's scruffy cheek. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes as they shook from the cold. He was chewing his lip, unable to break the gaze between them. Her lips trembled, and teeth chattered. He rubbed the back of her head and pulled her in tighter. Y/N pushed her face into his shoulder, her cheek against his neck.

"We'll be okay," he uttered, his voice like smokey velvet, allaying their fears.

It took quite some time before the survivors began to warm up. Daryl rested his chin on Y/N's shoulder while her teeth finally stopped chattering. He closed his eyes, relaxing against her. She could smell his musky scent, feel his heat. Her hand rested on his hip as they stood like a pyre, practically writhing together to raise their body temperatures. Daryl rubbed Y/N’s back slowly, causing a nice friction for her exposed skin. He had her now situated with her back closest to the heat.

The rain hit the metal roof hard, drumming out any other noise. Lightning struck over and over, causing a strobe effect in the room. Exhausted, Y/N and Daryl slowly sat on the floor, Daryl behind her holding her. She rested her head on his broad shoulder while he leaned his head on the top of hers. They watched the patterns of water on the windows. The sky washed black. The rain came down harder, and when it hit the parking lot, it bounced causing puddles.

“Do you think it will stop?” She asked.

He shook his head, "Hard to say." Daryl's hand grazed over her scars. She stiffened, but as his caress continued, and his touch gentle, she soon felt the soothing effect on her nerves. She'd not been touched quite so intimately since the time he washed her hair. He sensed her tension and thought about how he would want to be touched. When he followed through, the result was better than he thought It would be. The back of her head nestled further into his shoulder.

Part Five

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x y/n

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stardustndreamsofsilver · 2 years ago

Text

Almost

Part Eight

Jake x Reader (f)

Warnings: None

Find All Parts Here

Carefully placing a stack of wrapped plates in the cardboard box, you ease your hands out and close the flaps, taping them shut. With a huff, you blow the stray hair out of your eyes and lean on the top of the box. You take a look around the kitchen and across the counter into the living room. Boxes had been scattered everywhere. Each one labeled for the room they’re meant to go in once at the new house. Bookshelves that were overflowing with books now sit empty. Everything but this box had already been taken to the new house.

You look beside the box and grab the black marker and sprawl the word ‘Kitchen' across the top and side of the box of plates. Putting the cap back on the marker, you turn and lean against the counter. Spotting your coffee from this morning by the stove, you walk over and grab it. Taking a sip, it’s long grown cold, but it’s still caffeine. You take another sip and lean against the stove and sigh. You start to think about the weeks that had led up to this moment.

Jake had been very eager to find a place for the two of you and had you going to open houses almost everyday. The houses were all beautiful but nothing was feeling like home. House after house you would like certain things of each one, but nothing that just spoke to both you and Jake. That is until on a rainy afternoon, Jake’s realtor Kathy gave him a call and said a house just came on the market and she thought it would be perfect for the two of you. She said if the two of you could get there in twenty minutes, you’d be the first to view it and could be the first to put in an offer if you liked it.

You and Jake practically flew off the couch and threw on some shoes, not caring that you were both in sweats and baggy shirts. Putting on your jackets, you ran out to Jake’s car and headed over the address that the realtor sent Jake.

You pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later. Getting out of the car, you looked up at the house. It was a beautiful Queen Anne style house. The veranda stretched across the entire front of the house and off to the right, it featured an octagonal extension similar to a gazebo. Then to the left side, it had a three story tower. The brick exterior wasn’t exactly what you would have gone for, but you couldn’t discount the beauty of this house.

Looking over at Jake, you held out your hand. He took it, and you walked up the steps and to the front door. Just before Jake could knock, the realtor opens the door with a smile.

“Hey you two! Come on in!” She says, opening the door wider and extending her arm out as a sign to come in.

You walk in first and are met with the beauty of the entryway. A large staircase is directly across from the door and to your left is what you assume is a sitting room. Without even thinking, you find yourself walking over and exploring it further. A beautiful semicircle window takes most up the outer most wall, a custom built in bench extends the width of the window. A fireplace is featured on another wall, with built in bookcases on either side. You walk around the room taking it all in. Running your hand along the fireplace mantle, you catch sight of Jake.

Jake has his hands in his pockets and is grinning as he watches you admire the room. “Hey, there’s more rooms to see babe. Let’s go take a look at the kitchen. I have a feeling you’ll love it.” He chuckles.

You nod your head and let him lead the way. Walking back through the entryway, you walk through the formal dining room and into the kitchen. The original custom cabinetry immediately takes your breath away. A large table sits in the middle of the room, to serve as additional counter space. The kitchen is quite big and has a large pantry. A beautiful gas stove grabs your attention next. It’s the exact one you’d dreamed of having.

Turning to Jake with a huge grin, you say, “Well, that settles it. We’ll take it!”

Jake throws his head back and laughs. “We haven’t even seen the rest of the house.”

You shake your head and say, “Don’t need too, it’s perfect.”

Jake shakes his head and chuckles, “Come on, let’s just look around a little more before making a decision.”

You pretend to pout and say okay. You and Jake walk through the rest of the house. Each room is more perfect than the last. Everything about the house is exactly what the two of you wanted. There’s one last room to see before heading outside and seeing the guest house. Jake opens the door and you gasp. It’s a library. Bookcases fill each wall, only leaving space for three windows that stretch from the ceiling to the floor and an enormous fireplace.

“Jake!” You gasp, covering your mouth.

He grins and says, “I know. It’s perfect. Our own little library. Kathy told me about it while you were exploring the sitting room down stairs.”

You turn and look at him. “Jake, you can’t deny it. This house is our house.”

“I'm not denying it. I already had her put in an offer for us.” He laughs.

“Did you really?” You ask excitedly.

“Yep, we should know in a few days if they accept it.” He smiles and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I have a feeling they will though.”

“I hope so.” You sigh.

Jake kisses you and says, “Come on, we still need to go see the guest house. I need to see if I can have it converted to a home studio.”

You and Jake go out and look at it. With quite a bit of remodeling, it can be turned into the home studio of Jake’s dreams. Heading back inside, you thank Kathy and the two of you leave. On the drive home, you talk about the house and all the things you love about it. Growing more and more excited and nervous. A couple days later, you got the call that your offer had been accepted and you would have the keys in hand as early as two weeks from then.

You smile and the memory. The sound of footsteps pulls you back to reality. Jake walks in and clears his throat. You look over at him and grin.

“Is that the last one?” He asks.

“Yep! That’s the last of it.” You say with a sigh.

Jake walks over and lifts the box off the counter. “Do you want to take a look around before we leave?” He asks.

“Yeah, I just want to make sure we got everything.” You say.

Jake nods his head and leans over to give you a kiss on the cheek. Turning away, he carries the box out of your old apartment and down to the car. Taking a deep breath, you dump the rest of your coffee in the sink and rinse it out. Grabbing the marker you’d been using and your purse, you take one last look around the apartment. Finding nothing else that needed to be brought with you, you walk back into the living room.

Jake is already standing at the door waiting for you. He smiles and asks, “Did you find anything we missed?”

“Nope, we didn’t miss a thing.” You say.

“Are you ready then?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” You say.

The two of you walk out and you turn to lock the door behind you. With the door secured, you and Jake head down stairs. Jake goes on to the car and you go to the office to drop off your keys. Once you’ve left the keys at the front desk, you go to meet Jake at the car. Getting in, you get settled and buckle your seatbelt.

Jake turns to you and asks, “All ready to go?”

You smile from ear to ear and say, “Yep. Let’s go!”

Jake grins and starts the car. Pulling out of the parking lot, he heads to your new home. Reaching over the middle console, he takes your hand.

“I love you.” He says, bringing your hand to his lips.

“I love you too.” You reply.

It doesn’t take long before you’re pulling into the driveway. Turning off the car, you and Jake sit there for a moment.

“Welcome home.” Jake says softy.

“Welcome home love.”

taglist: @demolitionndann, @ichoosetheroad-gvf, @gvfjakesjooty, @gretavanloverleaver, @lolipopsandgumdrops, @lightmylove-gvf, @positivegvfthings, @myfavsstuff-blog, @gretavangroupie, @sunfl0wer-power, @writingcold

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firstdegreefangirl · 2 years ago

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Baby It's (not) Cold Outside

Theme: Day 11 - Music/Songs @12daysofchristmas

Fandom/Character(s): Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen (The Rookie)

Word Count: 1668

Ao3 link here!

It’s 11 p.m. sharp when Lucy shifts her head where it’s resting against Tim’s shoulder.

“I should … get going,” she says, chin digging into his bicep. But she makes no effort to get up, or even stretch her legs out. “It’s getting late.”

“It is,” Tim agrees. He runs his hand up and down her arm. “And if you really need to go, I won’t keep you. But I’m not sending you away either. This time of year, you know,” he grins. “It might be cold out there.”

“Tim, we live in southern California.” Lucy laughs, her whole body jostling against him. “It’s like 55 degrees out.”

“Eh, I’ve seen warmer Decembers.”

“Seriously.” He can hear the eye roll in her voice. “We both work in the morning. My uniform is at home.”

“Alright,” Tim pauses for a moment, considering. When he speaks again, it’s with a playful lilt. “But if you stay … I could start a fire, see what’s left to make of the evening.”

“A fire? In what fireplace?” He feels Lucy’s head turn as she looks around the room. In response, he slides his hand from her arm, down far enough to toy with the waistband of her leggings.

“Not that kind of fire …" He dips his head down to nose at her hairline, smiling against her skin.

Lucy laughs, turning her head and squirming. She reaches down to smack at his wrist.

“You are insatiable!” She giggles. Her head lands more squarely on his chest now, and she’s lying halfway across his lap. He relents, wrapping his arm loosely around her waist to slide her closer into him. Just when she’s settled in, he wiggles his fingers along her side, across the patch of bare skin where her T-shirt has ridden up. Lucy squeals again, and he tugs her the rest of the way across, until she’s leaning between his side and the arm of the couch, thighs stretched across his. She tucks her toes underneath the edge of a throw pillow and sighs.

And still, she doesn’t even try to get up. He’d let her, if she did. But they both know what she’s after, and he wants it just as badly, even if neither of them are willing to say it outright.

“Well don’t rush yourself,” Tim says, adjusting his hold so one arm wraps around her belly and the other drapes down her leg. His hand fits perfectly over her kneecap; they both smile when it lands there. “You’re right, it is getting pretty late.”

“Mmm, maybe just a few more minutes.” Lucy tips her head back and tucks her face into his neck. He kisses the edge of her temple lightly, then starts humming in her ear. He’s not sure what song it is, but it’s been stuck in his head all afternoon. Some festive jingle or the other, playing over the loudspeaker at the gas station where he’d spent three hours investigating a burglary. “But then I really do have to get home. Tamara will worry.”

“Last week she asked me if I was planning to ‘put a ring on it’ anytime soon, so I don’t think that’s true.” When Lucy’s shoulders go stiff at his words, Tim squeezes one gently and tacks on, “Not anytime soon. Right now I just want to enjoy the way things are.”

He doesn’t say any more than that, just lets Lucy relax again. She doesn’t need to know about the pretty emerald that caught his eye over the weekend, while he was shopping for earrings to give his sister. Not yet, not anytime soon.

Just … someday.

“Things are good,” Lucy whispers. Her breath tickles his jaw in hot puffs, and he kisses the side of her head again.

“They are.”

They sit like that, all tangled up, basking in each other and together, for a few minutes. Lucy only stirs enough to reach for her highball glass, dripping condensation onto Tim’s coffee table and return to her previous position.

“What’s in this again anyway?” She takes a sip of the cocktail, watered down from the melted ice, and leans her head against his shoulder. “It’s delicious.”

He could rattle it off easily, give her the secret to his spiced rum cider. It’s not even a secret, really; Genny had sent him the link in an email several years ago after a friend of a friend forwarded it on to her. There’s a printed out copy stuck in the cover of a bar guide he inherited from his grandfather. He could show it to her, sometime when she’s not sitting on top of him.

But where’s the fun in that?

“I could pour you another,” he offers instead. “If you … won’t be driving for a bit.”

It’s not his fault that the rum cider is strong.

Lucy sits up just far enough that she can turn around and look at him. From this angle, her eyes twinkle with more than just her amusement. He can see the reflection of the Christmas tree lights, the tree she’d insisted he needed for the back of his living room, countless little white dots sparkling beneath her eyelashes. They remind him of the dark night skies he’d stare at during his deployment days, the only source of beauty in a war-ravaged world.

Her hair is pulled into a loose knot on top of her head, and she’s wearing leggings and a faded-out college T-shirt. She’s nowhere near drunk, but a glass from his bar set hangs from one hand while the other trails a line up his shoulder. She reminds him of those skies, a bright spot in a year that needed more of them.

He’s seen her every which way: in uniform, pajamas, casual wear, dressed for a night out, in her finest formal attire, with longer hair and pointed nails, not wearing anything at all …

But this might be his favorite version of Lucy, he thinks. The Lucy that’s soft and comfortable in his space, pliant against him, with stars dancing in her eyes.

“What?” She asks, smiling fondly at him, and he realizes he must have been staring.

“Nothing.” Tim shakes his head. “Just … thinking about how beautiful you are like this.”

The easy honesty sends a flush up her face, visible even in the dimly lit living room.

“You are …" she trails off, and he hesitates for a moment before meeting her eyes. She sighs. “Something. You are something, Tim. I just want you to know that.”

She leans forward before he can say anything in response and fits their mouths together. He slides the glass out of her hand, groping blindly for the end table so they’ll have their hands free to hold onto one another. It’s his favorite kind of kiss too, slow and easy and endless feeling, until they break just far enough apart to breathe.

“I don’t want to leave,” Lucy murmurs into the space between them. Tim isn’t sure he was meant to hear it; other than how closely together they’re sitting. It feels like the sort of thing she’s saying to herself more than to him. He wants to tell her that she doesn’t have to, that she never has to leave unless she wants to, but that feels like too much for 11:30 on a Friday night, when she’s trying to convince herself to stay behind some line in the sand.

As if there’s a line they haven’t crossed together.

“I really should …" Lucy says again, loudly enough for him to hear.

“If you’re sure you’re good to get home,” Tim replies, meaning the late hour and the long day more than the alcohol.

“Yeah, I’ll be good.” Still, she doesn’t get up. “Of course, if we’re worried that it might be … cold …" She reaches for one of the drawstrings on his sweatshirt and twirls it around her fingers. “Maybe you should make sure I have something warm to wear.”

“Yeah?” He’s already reaching back to pull the sweatshirt over his head. Lucy laughs as she helps him untangle his T-shirt underneath it and keeps laughing as he tugs the sweatshirt down onto her shoulders. Her head pops through the opening at the neckline and she grins at him until he’s laughing with her.

When all is said and done, even sitting across his legs, the sweatshirt pools around her hips. He knows when she stands up that it will reach her knees. There’s something intimate and thrilling about knowing that even if she does go home tonight, she’s taking some physical, tangible part of him with her.

He traces his fingertips across her knuckles. Her skin is soft and smooth, and he knows that if he drew her hand to his lips, he’d be able to smell the floral hand lotion she rubs on every so often.

“It’s been a good night,” he says quietly. It’s an out, if she wants it to be, the beginnings of a goodbye. Or, it can be an invitation to let the night run on between them and keep a good thing going.

The choice is hers.

“It has been. It always is.” Lucy snuggles back into him. “If I stay … I have to get up early to go home before shift.”

“I’ll make you coffee,” he offers. “Carpool?”

“Sure.” She wraps both of her arms around one of his, holding it against her chest. “Probably better than driving home tonight anyway. Y’know, because you say it’s so cold out.”

“Yeah,” Tim kicks one foot up onto the coffee table. They should go to bed soon, if Lucy is staying, but he doesn’t want to make her move just yet. He hasn’t actually checked the weather, knows that what passes for ‘cold’ in LA is hardly a breeze in other parts of the country.

But he can’t imagine anything warmer than this, wrapped up in comfort and devotion and love.

And Lucy.

Compared to this, whatever the temperature is beyond his front door?

Baby, it’s cold outside.

#katie writes #kw22 #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #the rookie #baby it's cold outside #but like ... not creepy and weird #12daysofchristmas2022 #12daysofchristmas #day 11: music/songs

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mandana-the-service-pup · 1 year ago

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We’ve completed three levels of application for this rental house and I think we might get it so I’m going to post a few pictures.

It’s a three bedroom house on one level. No carpet. It has a really nice kitchen, small garage, porch, big back yard with healthy trees, gas fireplace, and other nice features. The neighborhood is kind of cramped but it’s safe and conveniently located (closer to the dog training center and parks so that’s nice) We got to meet one of the neighbors who was a nice lady recently widowed and all the things she complained about are no big deal for us. The only thing we don’t love is that the backyard has poison ivy and there’s only one small bathroom which needs a deep cleaning but those are things we can fix.

I’m not going to show a picture of the front but it’s a cute cottage asthetic with a well-kept side walk and little areas for a flower garden.

We were one of the first to view it and apply so fingers crossed. Housing is super competitive here.

#late night ramblings #housing is a human right #accessibility matters #rental #service dogblr

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jrob64 · 2 years ago

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Always in My Heart - Ch. 2, A CS Modern AU story

Here is Chapter 2 of my CS Gift Exchange story for @nachocheese-itsmycheese, including a new pic set. This chapter has some fluff and special moments, but fair warning, it also contains some serious angst.

Many thanks to @hookedmom for being my beta, @cs-rylie for being another set of eyes on the story and @kmomof4 for helping me plot.

Story Summary: As children in the same foster home, Emma Swan and Killian Jones became best friends. After being separated, they lost touch for 14 years and thought they would never see each other again.

A chance meeting in London changes everything.

*Trigger Warning* - cancer

Rating: M (for smut in the last chapter - but can be skipped if that’s not your comfort zone)

Words: (Ch. 2) 8362

Chapter 1 found here on Tumblr

Also posted on Ao3 & ffn

*********

The second time Emma Nolan shared a bed with Killian Jones, she was twenty years old and he was twenty-two. They were best friends reunited after years apart.

Killian began to wake up when he heard whimpers coming from Emma. He pushed up to his elbow and looked at the nightstand, where the green digital clock numbers read 4:33.

“Swan?” he whispered, cautiously scooting a little closer to her.

She didn’t answer, but let out another soft whimper. He could tell she was still asleep, but seemed to be in a bit of discomfort from her injuries.

“Emma?” he tried again, gently nudging her right shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Are you in pain?”

Her eyes cracked open and she turned her head on the pillow, but he could tell she wasn’t fully awake. “Yeah...it hurts.”

“You need to take more medicine.”

“Uh-uh. It’s dark and I don’t remember where I left the bottle.”

“You should stay ahead of the pain and it’s been several hours since you took anything. I’ll look for it, okay?”

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. After several seconds, she breathed out a heavy sigh before her eyes popped back open and she said, “Okay.”

Killian slid out of bed and used the light on his phone to look around the room, then went into the bathroom, coming back momentarily with a glass of water and a couple of pills. Setting them on the nightstand, he gently eased his arm around her back and helped her sit up enough to swallow the medicine.

“Thanks,” she murmured, as he lowered her back to the mattress.

He climbed back into bed on his side, moving toward the middle. Reaching over, he massaged her shoulder. ”Sleep now, Swan.”

Closing her eyes, she hummed. “Feels good.”

Happy to bring her some comfort, he continued to rub her arm until he heard her breathing deepen, signifying her return to sleep. He followed soon after.

*********

During the next three days, Emma and Killian enjoyed the amenities of the ski resort to occupy their time. They spent time in the lodge game room playing darts, billiards and air hockey, enjoyed the hot tub, and watched movies or sat in front of the gas fireplace in the living area of the suite. No matter what they were doing, they carried on lengthy and effortless conversations, filling in the years they missed with each other and remembering all the things they did when they were at the foster home together.

On the final day of the trip, Emma came out of the bathroom after soaking in the large, whirlpool tub, to find the room empty. She checked her phone for a message from Killian, but didn’t find one. Just as she was getting ready to call him, the door opened and he walked in wearing a huge grin.

“What have you been doing that made you so happy?” she questioned good naturedly.

“I just ordered tickets for us to go on the gondola today. The person down at the front desk said they have a shuttle that can take us there. Is that alright with you, Swan?”

“That sounds like fun! I’ve been watching it move up and down the mountain, but didn’t think about going on it ourselves. Will I be able to ride it with my leg like this?”

“I checked into it and it shouldn’t be a problem. The cars are enclosed and look quite spacious.”

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” she asked excitedly.

He helped her don her winter gear and put on his own, then they rode the elevator down to the lobby. As they made their way outside, the shuttle pulled up in front of the building.

It was a short drive down the road to the gondola site. After they purchased their tickets, Emma was permitted to use the handicap access and was boarded promptly. Killian helped her settle into the car before it began gliding up the mountain, giving them a spectacular view of the surrounding scenery. The skiers and snowboarders below looked miniscule, but Emma still tried to locate Mary Margaret in her bright pink snowsuit.

They both thought the ride was over far too quickly, so when they disembarked, Emma offered to buy tickets for another trip. Killian readily agreed and helped her over to the ticket booth. The second time was just as enjoyable, as they pointed out beautiful sights to each other.

After the gondola returned to base, they went into the little snack shop and treated themselves to warm apple dumplings with ice cream, and hot chocolate.

By the time they returned to the resort, it was midday. They went straight up to their room to change out of their heavy winter outerwear, then watched a movie until Mary Margaret and David knocked on their door. The four of them walked over to the lodge and ate together, talking and laughing into the evening.

Once Emma and Killian returned, they packed their suitcases as much as possible, because they were leaving early the next morning. Killian would be taking an Uber to the airport for a flight back to England, and after seeing him off at the lodge, the other three would leave to drive back to Maine.

A sense of melancholy settled over the room as they silently folded their clothes and stuffed them into their bags. Killian made a sweep of the living room area and the bathroom, while Emma double checked all of the dresser drawers and the closet. When they were satisfied that everything was packed except for what they needed in the morning, they sat together on the sofa, the only light coming from the fireplace in front of them.

He draped his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she sighed.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he agreed sadly, “but I’m very glad we had this time together. And of course we can continue texting and calling each other.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I’m going to bug you so much, you’ll get tired of it.”

He chuckled. “Not a chance. I’ll look forward to it.”

They lapsed back into silence, each lost in their thoughts.

“You’ll let me know what you find out from your MRI, won’t you?” he asked.

“Absolutely. I really hope there are no tears.”

“I pray there aren’t.”

“And you’ll let me know when you get a job, right?”

“Aye. Hopefully, it won’t take long.”

“I pray it won’t.”

She turned her face up to him and smiled. He returned it, then rested his forehead against hers momentarily.

They remained on the sofa, quietly conversing, for another half hour before deciding to go to bed. Once there, both of them had trouble falling asleep, knowing they would be saying goodbye to each other again in just a few hours.

*********

The next morning was a flurry of activity with final packing, a quick breakfast, and loading the bags into David’s car, while Killian waited for the arrival of his Uber. When he received notification that it was two minutes away, he said his goodbyes to Mary Margaret and David, then turned to Emma.

“Let me know when you arrive back home,” he said, taking her hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze.

“You do the same,” she replied. Leaning her crutches against the wall beside her, she wrapped her arms around him. “Please stay in touch, Killian. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You have my solemn promise, Swan.”

“Thank you for coming. It was the best surprise ever!”

“Thank you for allowing me to crash your vacation.”

Her arms loosened and she looked up at him. “This whole vacation would have sucked if you hadn’t shown up. You’re the only reason I was able to enjoy it at all!”

He chuckled. “Happy to be of service, milady.”

A dark blue SUV pulled up the driveway and stopped in front of them. “Looks like my ride is here,” Killian commented. He hugged her tightly one more time, before releasing her to bend down and pick up his duffle bag.

The driver exited the vehicle and greeted Killian, taking his bag to put it in the back. Killian’s eyes lingered on his friend for several moments. “Goodbye, Emma,” he finally said.

“Goodbye, Killian. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

“Me, too.” Unable to think of anything else to say, he raised his hand to give her a little wave, then slipped into the back seat of the waiting SUV. He knew she couldn’t see him through the tinted window, but when he looked at her, she was waving and bravely trying to give him a smile anyway.

As the vehicle started down the winding driveway, he watched Emma out the back window until she faded from view, then settled back into the leather seat with a sigh. He had plenty of time to think during the twenty-five minute drive to the airport, and pondered why it hurt more to say goodbye to Emma this time, than it did in London. Maybe back then it was easier because he was already making plans to surprise her in Vermont, but now he thought it was more than that.

His feelings toward his friend had changed in the days he spent with her and he wasn’t exactly sure when it happened. He simply knew the longer he was with her, the harder it was to keep from kissing her. Their long conversations allowed him to see the woman his childhood friend had become, and he liked what he saw. He was attracted to her wit, humor, intelligence and beauty.

Now the question was, what could he do about it from thousands of miles away?

*********

Emma stood, rooted to the spot, as she watched the SUV disappear, taking Killian away from her yet again. The pain she felt in her heart was almost as bad as the pain in her injured leg, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to examine the reason why.

She wasn’t a person who made friends easily. As a child, it didn’t take her long to come to the conclusion it wasn’t worth the effort. After Killian left, she was never in one place long enough for anyone to get to know her. She was always the ‘new girl’ who warranted stares and whispers, but rarely a genuinely warm welcome from classmates or foster siblings.

When she was adopted by the Nolans, she tagged along with David, and eventually his friends became her friends, too. They all thought of her as their little sister and included her whenever they played sports in the backyard. By the time she entered junior high, she was one of the best female athletes in her grade and began making friends with some of her teammates.

No matter how many friends she made though, none of them took Killian’s place in her heart. He was her first friend, her best friend, but the feelings she felt now had her thinking she wanted him to be more than just a friend, which was crazy, right?

“Ready to go, Sis?”

Emma startled at David’s voice, not realizing how long she had been standing there contemplating her feelings. “Oh, yeah, I’m ready. Let’s get on the road.”

*********

A week after they parted ways, Killian was happy to learn Emma’s MRI showed no signs of tears in her knee or ankle, and that she was using a cane instead of crutches. He was able to share his good news about being offered a job at one of the architectural firms where he had done an internship.

Their daily texts never failed to lift his spirits as he hunted for an apartment and settled into a new routine. He felt very blessed to have Emma in his life again.

*********

Spring semester for Emma was the most busy and demanding of her entire college career. She had more projects, papers and reading to do than in her previous two semesters combined. It didn’t help that getting around was still slow and awkward. If it wasn’t for the daily texts and occasional FaceTime calls from Killian, she didn’t know how she would have made it through. His encouragement lifted her up and calmed her down. He knew just the right things to say to make her laugh when she felt like screaming with frustration. It seemed he could tell how she was feeling just by reading her texts or hearing the tone of her voice.

By mid-April, she had come to two conclusions: she was going to survive the semester from hell, and she was falling hard for her best friend.

*********

Killian rolled his chair away from his desk, stretching his arms above his head. He was thoroughly enjoying the challenge of his job, but being hunched over a computer screen most of the day took its toll.

Pulling out his phone, he saw a message from Liam and grimaced after reading it.

L: We’re trying to get a head count for the wedding reception. Are you bringing a date or not?

He would love to say he was bringing a certain beautiful, blonde-haired lass who was his best friend, and then a sudden thought struck him - what would it hurt to ask? He would pay her airfare and offer her the spare bedroom in his new flat. After the semester she was going through, he felt she deserved some time away. The wedding was two weeks after she finished classes, and he knew she wasn’t planning to start her summer job until the first week of June.

Not wanting to overthink it and talk himself out of it, he pulled up their text thread and typed out a message.

K: Would you consider being my date for my brother’s wedding on May 20? Please?

Glancing at the time, he knew she would be in the middle of her Advanced Composition class and wouldn’t be able to answer for at least another hour. He tried to tamp down the excitement over the prospect of seeing her again, knowing it was a distinct possibility she might say no.

Switching back to Liam’s text, he sent a vague answer.

K: I’ll get back to you on that in a couple of days.

Laying his phone back on the desk, he rose from his chair, grabbed his favorite mug and went to the break room for his afternoon cup of coffee.

*********

Emma sat down at a small table beside the front window of the Student Union and massaged her knee. Even after three months, her injuries still bothered her from time to time, and she still needed physical therapy to strengthen her leg. She took a sip from her Diet Coke and opened a bag of chips, munching on one as she pulled her phone from the pocket of her messenger bag and unlocked it.

When she read the message from Killian, she inhaled sharply. The chip went down sideways and she began coughing, glancing around to make sure no one was rushing over to give her the Heimlich maneuver. She finally caught her breath, tears in her eyes and a sting in her throat from where the chip scraped it.

He was asking her to come to England for his brother’s wedding? As his date?

Did this mean that…could he possibly have feelings for her that went beyond friendship? Or was she reading too much into it? Did he know she thought about him that way? Maybe he just didn’t want to go to the wedding by himself. But if that was the case, wouldn’t he just ask one of his friends who lived in England? Surely any woman he asked would happily jump at the chance to go on a date with such a gorgeous and sweet guy.

She was probably overthinking it. He more than likely just sent her the invitation on the spur of the moment and asked her as his friend, nothing more.

Her initial response was to refuse, as she ran through the excuses in her mind. She was a poor college student and it would be an expensive trip. She needed time to decompress after this semester, before beginning her summer job waitressing, and taking online classes so she could graduate in December. She also promised Mary Margaret to help her with wedding plans.

No matter how many excuses she came up with, another thought overrode them all - she had an opportunity to be with Killian again. How could she say no to that?

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard as she chewed on her lip. Before sending a reply, she pulled up her banking app and checked her finances. Doing a quick calculation, she realized she could just about afford an airplane ticket and hotel room, but what about meals and transportation?

As if summoned by her deliberation, her phone vibrated with a text from none other than the man whose question was currently making her mind race.

K: I neglected to mention that I will pay for your plane ticket and you’re welcome to stay in my spare bedroom. Never let it be said that Killian Jones is anything less than a gentleman when asking a lady to be his date. I wouldn’t hear of you paying your own way.

Ah, so now that excuse was taken out of the equation. Still, she hesitated. What if she really was reading too much into it? What if his feelings toward her were the same as always, while hers had moved past friendship to… something more… for him? She couldn’t bear to have her heart broken and lose her best friend all in one fell swoop.

She could just go to England, see her friend again, go to the wedding and come back home, never telling him how her feelings had changed. And who knows? Maybe when she saw him again, she would realize her feelings really hadn’t changed, that it was just her mind…and heart… playing tricks on her.

She was definitely overthinking it.

Bringing up the calendar app on her phone, she was surprised to see nothing scheduled for May 20 or any of the days before and after. A smile teased the corners of her lips as that final piece of the puzzle fell into place. Everything was pointing to the idea that she was destined to accept Killian’s invitation.

So she did.

*********

Emma tried to get comfortable in the airplane seat, putting her earbuds in and exhaling a happy sigh. She was very relieved to be finished with the semester that nearly did her in, and even happier that her high GPA was still intact. She reminisced again about how thankful she was for Killian’s support and encouragement throughout the past five months. Now she was just a few hours away from seeing him in person and she could hardly wait.

The last time she was on a plane to England, she was equal parts excited and nervous, and found this time wasn’t any different. She was anxious to see how she reacted to being with Killian again, not really sure if she wanted to confirm that her feelings had deepened.

Trying to put the turmoil of thoughts out of her mind, she tugged a paperback book out of the messenger bag on her lap and started reading.

*********

Killian paced the arrivals area of the airport, checking his phone after every few steps. Emma said she would text him when her plane began disembarking and it was supposed to have landed five minutes ago.

His stomach was in knots, and he couldn’t help but compare it to how he felt when he was planning to go to Vermont. He had been excited to see his friend then, but what he felt now was completely different. He wanted to be more than a friend to Emma and wondered if she reciprocated his feelings.

The phone buzzed in his hand and he sucked in a quick breath. Hopefully before her visit was over, he would find out the answer.

*********

Of course her piece of luggage had to be one of the last to appear on the carousel. When she finally spotted it, Emma impatiently pushed between two people who were texting on their phones instead of watching for their baggage. She snagged her navy blue bag, raised the handle, and turned to exit the area.

Suddenly she heard, “Swan! Over here!” and saw Killian heading her way.

It took them a few moments of dodging people until they were finally hugging each other.

“It’s great to see you again,” she said into his neck, inhaling his unique scent.

They were separated when a man rushing past them bumped his shoulder bag into Emma’s hip, nearly knocking her off her feet, but Killian's strong arms kept her stable. Tossing a brief apology over his shoulder, the man continued on while Killian glared at him.

“Alright there, Swan?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why is it that every time I see you, I’m either almost being knocked on my ass or have injuries from doing just that?”

He laughed, taking the handle of her suitcase from her, while his other hand clasped hers. “I don’t know, but I’m happy to see you walking on your own two feet. Let’s get out of here before that changes.”

Playfully slapping his arm with her free hand, she allowed him to lead her through the throng of people outside to where his car was parked. He stowed her bag in the 'boot' while she circled around to the left side of the car, remembering the passenger seat would be on the opposite side.

As he drove to his apartment, he asked about her flight, and she inquired about the wedding preparations. Their conversation flowed easily, as always, and Emma relaxed more and more as the miles churned away. Her heart was still beating at an accelerated pace, but Killian didn’t seem to notice anything different about her.

But there was something different. Being with him again proved to her that her feelings had gone beyond simple friendship. She was falling in love with her best friend.

*********

It was all Killian could do to keep his focus on the road in front of him. He thought he was prepared to see Emma after five months, hundreds of texts and numerous FaceTime calls, but seeing her beauty in person again was a very pleasant jolt to his system.

When they arrived and he parked his car, he retrieved her luggage and led her inside the building. Upon entering his apartment, she complimented him on the bright, modern space, then followed him down the hallway to the spare room, which was sparsely furnished with a twin bed and small dresser.

“I’m afraid it’s not much,” he apologized, rubbing at a spot behind his ear.

“You forget that I lived in a cramped dorm room for two years,” she laughed. “This is fine. Thank you for providing a place for me to stay and paying for my plane ticket. I probably wouldn’t have been able to come otherwise.”

“My pleasure, Swan. I’m very happy you were able to work it out. Liam and Louise are excited to meet you and to have you join me at the wedding.”

“I look forward to meeting them, too. I’ll finally be able to put faces to their names after hearing so much about them.”

Killian showed her around the rest of his flat, giving her a towel and washcloth when she expressed an interest in taking a shower. While she did, he ordered pizza to be delivered and called Liam to let him know Emma had arrived safely.

After she emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and dressed in casual, comfortable clothes, they ate and caught up with each other some more. He wondered if there would be some awkwardness between them because of the romantic feelings he was developing for her, but was happy to find it was just as easy as always.

*********

Killian took Emma to his brother’s house the next day, where Liam and his fiancée would be attending to last minute details for the wedding. Although she was a little apprehensive to meet Killian’s beloved older brother, Liam set her at ease by greeting her with a broad smile and warm hug.

“Ah, so you’re the famous Emma Swan! My little brother has sung your praises for as long as I can remember. I’ve never seen him happier than when he found you again.”

“You know I’m an adult now, don’t you, Liam?” Killian grumbled. “I’m not your little brother anymore.”

Emma laughed. “I’m very happy we found each other again, too, and to finally meet you, Liam.”

Once Louise arrived, they set to work making small bags of sugar almonds to be placed as favors for the wedding guests. Killian and Liam’s Aunt Aggie stopped in with her homemade Scotch eggs for lunch, greeting Emma just as warmly as Liam and Louise. By the time they left later that afternoon, Emma felt like she had been accepted as an honorary member of the Jones family.

When they got back to Killian’s apartment, Emma unpacked the accessories she brought to wear to the wedding and discovered she forgot to pack her nude heels. He took her shopping to buy a new pair, then they went out to eat at a local pub. Knowing the next day was going to be a busy one with the wedding and reception, they went to bed early; Killian bidding her goodnight with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

Emma lay in bed, recalling the events of the day and wishing she would have acted on her instinct to turn her head into his kiss, so it would have been on the lips instead.

*********

Killian awoke the next morning to a misty, overcast day. He had hoped Liam and Louise would have warm, sunny weather for their special day, but figured since the ceremony wasn’t until late afternoon, there was time for it to clear up.

He went into the kitchen to start the coffee and decided to make English pancakes for breakfast. Just as he was plating up three of the thin, crepe-like treats, Emma came stumbling into the room, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

“Something smells delicious,” she mumbled.

He chuckled. “Are you talking about the coffee or the pancakes?”

“Yes,” she answered with a sly grin.

“Well, help yourself to the coffee. You can have these pancakes as soon as I sprinkle them with powdered sugar. Would you like some strawberries on them, too?”

“Sure,” she said, moving toward the coffee pot.

He set the plate in front of her as soon as she was seated with her mug of coffee. While he was cooking his own pancakes, he heard her moan with pleasure, making him bite his lip to keep from moaning himself. He imagined her making that sound as she was in the throes of passion, and silently admonished himself to get a grip and focus.

When he joined her at the table with his plate, she said, “These are amazing! You’ll have to teach me how to make them sometime.”

He liked how she made it sound like it was inevitable for them to be together again. “I can do that. They’re really quite easy.”

“Maybe for you, but I’m not the greatest in the kitchen,” she commented, before taking another large bite. After chewing and swallowing, she asked, “What’s the schedule for today?”

“We need to be at the church by two o’clock for pictures. The wedding is at three-thirty, with the meal and reception afterwards.”

“I hope what I brought to wear is okay.”

“I’m sure it will be, Swan. There isn’t a specific dress code, except for those of us in the wedding party.”

After they finished eating, they cleaned up the kitchen. “You can take your shower first, Emma. I’m going to call Liam to see if he needs anything,” Killian said, once it was put to rights.

They spent a lazy morning together, watching television and talking. After a light lunch, they maneuvered around each other for the next two hours, getting ready for the big event. As Killian slipped into his white tuxedo shirt, he was happy to notice the sun filtering through the blinds in his room. It looked like Mother Nature was going to cooperate after all.

When he entered the living room, adjusting his cufflinks in the buttonholes, he came to a complete stop. Emma was already there waiting, wearing a knee-length, lace sheath in plum. The dress had a strapless lining, but the lace overlay crossed over one shoulder, giving Killian full view of the other. Her golden hair was swooped back into a low bun, showing off the creamy expanse of her slender neck.

Realizing he was staring, he cleared his throat. “You look…stunning, Swan.”

She self-consciously ran her hands down her sides. “Thank you. My mom bought this dress for me for my induction into an academic sorority last year. I haven’t had an opportunity to wear it again until now. Are you sure it looks alright?”

He took two more steps toward her. “It’s perfect. You’ll be the most beautiful woman there.”

Breathing out a small laugh, she said, “I think that title will belong to Louise, don’t you? All eyes are supposed to be on the bride, after all.” Just as Killian opened his mouth to answer, she added, “Oh, I need to put a few things into my clutch before we go. Give me a couple of minutes.”

“We don’t have to leave for another fifteen, so take your time.” Watching her walk down the short hallway to the bedroom, he couldn’t help thinking that while all eyes were on the bride, he would have a hard time taking his eyes off of Emma.

*********

Emma had made the excuse to leave the room before she began to drool over seeing Killian in a tuxedo. The man was gorgeous to begin with, but put him in a tux and his hotness factor went through the roof.

There was another reason for taking some time to gather herself, though. The adoring way he was looking at her made a thrill of hope run down her spine. Perhaps he did feel something for her besides friendship.

She glanced through the contents of her purse and snapped it shut, determined to tell Killian before she left England how her feelings toward him had changed.

*********

The wedding was beautiful and filled with so much love between the bride and groom, it brought tears to Emma’s eyes. Every time she looked at Killian, he was smiling broadly, clearly happy for his brother. She caught him more than once looking back at her where she sat in the audience beside his Aunt Aggie, and it made the warmth rush into her cheeks.

After enjoying a delicious meal at the reception, they watched Liam and Louise have their first dance together. When the next song began, Killian turned to Emma and held out his hand. “May I have this dance, Swan?”

Placing her hand in his, she commented, “Such a gentleman.”

“If I wasn’t, I would severely disappoint my aunt,” he quipped, winking at the woman herself, who gave him an approving smile.

They moved to the middle of the dance floor, where the newlyweds were continuing to sway, completely oblivious to everyone else around them. Emma put her right hand on his shoulder and felt his arm wrap around her waist, their other hands still clasped together.

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the other couples on the dance floor and the guests who were standing around the perimeter of it. Then they scanned up to connect with Killian’s, losing herself in their blue depths.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, the words spoken close to her ear.

“I really am, and I want to thank you, Killian, for asking me to come to the wedding. I’m sure you could have found a cheaper date here, after all!”

“I never even considered asking anyone else.”

“Why not?”

He ducked his head and she was sure he would be scratching behind his ear if both of his hands weren’t occupied. After several moments, he looked back up at her with determination shining in his eyes. “Because no one else is as special and important to me as you, Swan. You…I…” He hesitated and her heart started pounding, wondering what his next words were going to be. “I’ve come to think of you as more than a friend, Emma. My feelings…are changing, becoming…bloody hell, I’m making a right mess of this.”

She exhaled slowly, her hand on his shoulder moving to thread her fingers through the ends of his hair. “I think I know what you’re trying to say, Killian, because…it’s gone beyond friendship for me, too. I…really like you.”

“Truly?” he asked, his eyes hopeful.

“Yeah”, she confirmed.

“So, you’re onboard to see where this goes?”

“I mean, I know it’s not going to be easy because of the distance, but…I think it would be worth a try.”

Before she was finished speaking, his hands were framing her face and he was gazing at her with a warm gleam in his fathomless eyes. Then his lips met hers, soft and sweet, and she knew she made the right decision.

*********

By the time they returned to his flat after the reception, Killian’s feet were sore, but his heart was full. He and Emma danced together for nearly every song. He relished having her in his arms and took the opportunity to kiss her at regular intervals.

After parking the car outside his building, they slowly walked inside, with Emma’s heels dangling from Killian’s fingertips and her arm threaded through his elbow. She had been intuitive enough to know she wouldn’t last the day in her new shoes and tucked a pair of ballet slippers into her clutch.

After he unlocked the door, she entered and flopped down onto the sofa. “Tired, Love?” he asked.

“Yes, but it was so much fun! It’s the best time I’ve ever had at a wedding.”

He sank down beside her. “I had a great time, too. I’m sure it had something to do with the fact it was my brother getting married, but I think it was mostly because of the beautiful lady who was my date.”

She rolled her head sideways to look at him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m relieved to have my feelings for you out in the open.”

“Aye, Love, me too. It makes me very happy you’ve made a place in your heart for me.”

Reaching over to take his hand, she said sincerely, “You’ve always been in my heart, Killian, ever since we were kids. I just hope we can work things out.”

He leaned in to brush a kiss across her lips. “I have confidence we will, Emma.”

She smiled and sighed contentedly. “David and Mary Margaret are getting married next March. Do you think you’ll be able to be my date for their wedding?”

“I’ll be sure to put in for the days off once the new year starts.”

Kissing him again, she said, “Good. You’ll get to meet my mom then.”

“Perhaps I could work something out at Christmas, so I can meet her sooner.”

Emma sighed. “Even Christmas seems very far away. We’re always being separated for months at a time.”

“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he tried to soothe.

“I hate that saying already,” she growled.

He chuckled, then turned to check the clock on the microwave. “It’s getting rather late, Swan. We should probably go to bed. Would you like to leave early for the airport and stop to get some breakfast on the way?”

“That would be really nice. What time do you think we should leave?”

Looking down at their hands where he was tangling his fingers through hers, he said, “By seven o’clock, I suppose. This time with you has gone far too fast.”

“I know. It always does.” She sighed and squeezed his hand. “I wish this night didn’t have to end, but you’re right - we need to go to bed.”

Rising from the couch, he pulled her to her feet and into a hug. “Goodnight, Swan. Pleasant dreams.”

“Goodnight, Killian,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “See you in the morning.”

He reluctantly released her and watched her walk down the hall, turning at the doorway to give him a smile. Feeling his heart swell, he checked to make sure the door was locked, switched off the lights, and went into his own bedroom, hoping to dream, as he so often had, about his friend across the hall, who was now more than his friend.

*********

The next two months after Emma’s trip to England saw the couple continuing to FaceTime and text, though their conversations were longer and more intimate than before. They seemed to never run out of things to share with each other.

Then one afternoon in early August, an hour before he got off work, he received a text from her.

E: Please call me ASAP.

Emma had been telling him for the past few weeks how concerned she was about her mother. Ruth had developed a persistent cough, was having pain in her chest and didn’t have any energy. David and Emma insisted she see a doctor so she finally gave in and made an appointment. The doctor had ordered more tests, which Killian knew she underwent the previous week. He was instantly concerned and went into the empty break room to place the call.

As soon as he heard Emma’s voice, it felt as though a rock dropped into his stomach. It was anguished in a way he’d never heard before. “Swan, what is it? What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously.

“M-my mom…has…cancer,” she choked out, and he closed his eyes, the memory of that same word impacting his life so brutally when he was a little boy. “It…it’s bad, Killian. Stage four lung cancer, inoperable.” Her voice broke on the final word and he gripped the phone tighter, wishing with all his heart he was there to hold her.

“Emma, I’m so, so sorry. How do they plan to treat it?”

He could hear her quiet sobs before she spoke again, her voice clogged with tears. “They…they’re trying to…decide what to do, but…M-Mom says she’s not sure she…” Her voice cut off again and he could feel tears trickling down his own cheeks over his girlfriend’s deep sorrow. “She just…wants to l-live long enough to see D-David and Mary Margaret get married.”

Closing his eyes, he asked the next dreaded question. “Have they given her a prognosis?”

He could barely understand her when she answered. “Three to…six m-months. With treatment…maybe a couple more…”

Killian sank into a chair, his legs unable to hold him any longer. “Emma, I…I don’t know what to say. I wish I could be there with you right now.”

She sniffed and whispered, “So do I. I-I’m taking the Fall semester off. David and Mary Margaret are planning to…move their wedding up, probably to late September or early October. Do you…do you think you would still be able to come if they change the date?”

“I promise I’ll be there, Sweetheart. No matter what it takes, I will definitely be there.”

“Thank you, Killian. I…I should let you get back to work. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Emma, Love, please don’t apologize,” he said. “I’m here for you whenever you need me - anytime, day or night. Never hesitate to call me, aye?” He heard her exhale a shaky breath, and took it as a sign of relief that she had a source of support.

“Okay,” she said, her voice a bit stronger. “I have to go. David and Mary Margaret are coming over for dinner tonight and I need to help Mom cook.”

“Would it be alright if I call you later this evening?”

“Yeah, that would be great, if you don’t mind.”

“You know I don’t. I’ll talk to you then.”

“Thanks again, Killian. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Swan.”

He hung up and sunk his head into his hands. He and Emma had spoken numerous times about how many things they had in common. He really hoped both of their mothers succumbing to cancer wouldn’t be added to that list.

*********

Killian exited the airport, his eyes anxiously searching for his girlfriend. When he didn’t see her immediately, he began walking down the sidewalk in search of the yellow VW from the picture she sent to him.

“Hey, handsome.”

He turned quickly to see Emma standing behind him. Dropping his duffle to the ground, he wrapped her tightly in his embrace. For almost two months, he had longed to hold her, giving her some small degree of comfort for her pain.

“Sorry. I had trouble finding a parking space,” she explained, her voice muffled by his chest.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve only been out here a few minutes.” Pulling back to look into her face, he asked, “How are you doing, Love?”

“I’m, uh, okay, I guess,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

“Aye.” He slung the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder, then clasped her hand in his. “Lead on, Milady.”

On the drive to Storybrooke, she filled him in on the plans for the wedding, which would be taking place in two day’s time.

“David is staying at the house until after the wedding, and the house has become ‘wedding central’. I’m pretty sure Mary Margaret is trying to keep all of us busy, so we have less time to think about…Mom.” She paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “Unfortunately, even though David has twin beds in his room, the extra bed is completely covered with silk flower arrangements, and Mom sleeps in the living room when she can’t get comfortable in her bed, so you’ll have to…share a bed with me.”

“Is that alright with you?”

She hummed and nodded. “To be honest, I think Mary Margaret arranged it that way on purpose. I haven’t been sleeping very well, and she probably thinks being with you will help.”

He placed his hand over hers where it rested on the gear shift. “I hope it will.”

Briefly turning her head to look at him, she smiled weakly. “Mom is feeling pretty good today. She’s excited to meet you.”

Ruth had started chemo treatments two weeks after her diagnosis, but they made her very sick and lethargic. The doctors hadn’t been optimistic about the effectiveness of the treatments anyway, so after lengthy discussions with her children, she decided to discontinue them. She was still having more good days than bad, and everyone was hopeful the day of the wedding would be one of her ‘good days’.

Killian could tell by the set of Emma’s shoulders and the tension in her voice that she was carrying a heavy burden of emotions. He was already dreading leaving her on Monday. His supervisor, a kind older man named Marco, had been generous in giving him four days off after working there for less than a year, but he had to report to the office on Tuesday or have his pay docked.

When they pulled up in front of a two-story white colonial, Emma cut the engine and looked over at him. “Well, this is home.”

He gave the house and huge yard surrounding it an appraising look, before turning back to her to say, “It looks warm and welcoming. I’m glad you had such a wonderful place to grow up, Love.”

“Yeah, it was great. David and I spent a lot of time outside. Over there,” she said, pointing to a spot at the back of the yard, “is our garden. I thought it was magical being able to grow our own food. Nothing is better than sweet corn fresh from the garden.”

“After everything you’ve told me about your home, it’s nice to see it in person.”

Emma unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door, while Killian did the same. He retrieved his bag from the back seat, then walked hand-in-hand with her up the sidewalk and porch steps.

“We’re here,” she called out, leading him through the front door. He barely had a chance to take a look around the living room before Mary Margaret emerged from the room to their left.

“Hi, Killian,” she said, initiating a hug with him. “We’re so happy you’re here.”

“I’m very happy to be here,” he replied.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another figure enter the room and heard Emma say, “This is my mom, Ruth.”

Mary Margaret stepped aside to let him approach their matriarch. She looked wan and weak but gave him a warm smile. “Welcome to our home, Killian.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to greet her, so he offered her his hand as he expressed his gratitude for opening her home to him.

She ignored his offer of a handshake, placing her hands on both sides of his face instead. “My Emma has told me so much about you. How wonderful that the two of you were reunited after so many years apart!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Nolan,” he smiled.

Patting his cheeks, she said, “Please call me Ruth. Now, we thought you would be hungry when you got here, so we’ve prepared a late lunch. Come eat with us.”

Upon entering the kitchen, he greeted David, who was putting filled water glasses on the table. The five of them ate and chatted for twenty minutes before Emma looked at her mother and said, “You look tired, Mom. Why don’t you go lay down and we’ll clean up?”

Ruth nodded wearily and pushed herself up to her feet. “I think I’ll do that. Please wake me in time to help cook dinner, will you?”

They agreed and watched her shuffle out of the room. Mary Margaret broke the silence by speaking in an overly cheery voice, “Killian, I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll have to stay in Emma’s room while you’re here.”

“She already told me and that’s fine with me, as long as David approves,” Killian said with a smirk.

David fixed him with a scowl. “My bedroom is on the other side of the wall, so I better not hear anything that will force me to come over there and defend my sister’s honor.”

All of them shared a laugh before Emma offered to show him to her room. Grabbing his duffle bag out of the living room, he followed her up the stairs.

Ushering him in the door, she said, “It hasn’t changed much since I was a teenager. I asked my dad to paint it yellow a couple of years after I moved in.”

He looked around to take in the pale yellow walls, dotted with posters of music groups and TV shows, and furniture consisting of a double bed, nightstand, dresser, and desk. Dropping his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed, he turned and pulled her into his arms. “Alright there, Swan?”

She nodded into his neck, tightening her grip around his waist. “She’s getting weaker every day. She tries to put up a good front, but we can see it. I…I don’t want to lose her, Killian.”

“I know, Love. I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?”

“Just hold me,” she whispered.

It was the easiest thing he had ever done.

*********

The evening ended up being very pleasant. They enjoyed one of Ruth’s signature dishes of chicken and dumplings, prepared by Emma and Mary Margaret with Ruth’s guidance. Later, they taught Killian how to play the card game ‘Hearts’. He caught onto it so quickly, he ended up winning the last game and David teasingly accused him of cheating.

Ruth tired easily, due to frequent bouts of coughing, but she insisted on staying up until David left to take Mary Margaret home.

Once they were alone, Emma and Killian remained in the living room, enjoying the quiet stillness, while cuddling on the couch. She concentrated on tangling and untangling her fingers with his, her head resting on his shoulder.

After several peaceful moments, she spoke softly, “Killian?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, pressing his lips to her hair.

“I’ve been…waiting to tell you something until I could do it in person.” Leaning back, she looked into his face.

“What’s that, Sweetheart?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

“You’ve always had a special place in my heart and now that we’ve found each other again, you’ve become very important to me. Even though it’s only been a few months since you came back into my life, I can’t imagine not having you in it.”

When she paused, he assured her, “I feel the same way, Emma.”

She smiled at him before continuing. “What I’m trying to say is…I…I’ve fallen in love with you, Killian.”

His hands came up to cradle her face, with so much joy radiating in his smile. “That’s wonderful to hear, because I’m in love with you, too.”

“You are?” she asked, though she could see the confirmation in his eyes.

“Aye, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone, either. I wanted to say it while I was holding you in my arms.”

Dipping his head, he brushed his lips against hers twice before deepening the kiss, the gentle pressure of his lips making her melt. His exploring tongue traced the seam of her lips and she welcomed him without hesitation.

The kiss was slow, sweet and undemanding, expressing their love, but not growing heated. They both knew this was not the time or place to take the next big step in their relationship.

Resting his forehead against hers after the kiss, he murmured, “My heart is yours, Emma.”

“I’ll take very good care of it, Killian. I promise.”

*********

Thanks so much for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting, if you’re so inclined. Chapter 3 is on its way to being written, but I can’t state a time frame for when it will be posted yet.

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woodstoves-fireplaces · 6 months ago

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colleenmurphy · 1 year ago

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'What the fuck did I do to deserve this?'

Francis Patrick Flannery thought to himself as he sprinted down the eastern corridor of the gifted summer home, named Jetty House in the family, as far as he could from his rather privileged and well bred cream of the crop wife. He heard a metallic scraping against the parquet flooring and it made him shudder as he headed for the billiards room at the left of the hall.

"Where were you, Francis?!"

The accusatory bellow rang from the halls like lions roar echoing from the expensive marble floors on the foyer. She was drawing nearer, the click-snick of her Manolos giving her away like a beast's claws. Frank's thoughts were disorganized thanks to the shuddering terror that hunted him like prey. Mary's shoe closet was impossibly large, enough so that it warranted her to have her own bedroom suite to get changed in each morning.

"I know you were with her!"

'Her who?'

Ducking behind the solid mahogany desk he sighed. They'd been married for twenty years, their children were all but gone from the nest, except young Henry, but he was off at the finest boarding school their family could afford and the boy, along with his two other siblings, both girls, identical twins as if Frank's life wasn't bad enough lacked for absolutely nothing. Frank, himself lacked for nothing, thanks in part to his secondary bank account that Mary knew nothing about and to Mary Malone's family money itself.

"I bet she spells her name with an 'I' instead of a 'y'."

Her voice was getting louder now as she stood only a few feet away from billiards room. She was headed for the formal dining room and then into the ladies sitting room. Twenty years he'd been treated to this sort of mental instability even before he'd even given any thought to actually having an extramarital affair. He reasoned that she had driven him to it around the five year mark of their marriage, right before the twins were born. He just couldn't handle the stress. Or so he'd told himself. Settling into one of the overstuffed leather club chairs he breathes a sigh of a relief as he hears her walk away.

'Maybe...I screwed up.'

Somewhere in the adjoining office to the club room his desk phone rang eliciting a heart skip from him and certainly stopped Mary's footsteps. Two rings then three followed by one final ring before the answering machine clicked on smoothly. 'Only the finest for Frank Flannery' was what Mary had said when she had redecorated the office for him on their eighteenth anniversary.

"Hey Franky bear! It's your snookypoo I've got news for you and I can't wait to see you down at the club. I got the job at the hag's design office! I'll get to se her every day and she'll never suspect a thing."

"I fucked up."

Was the last thing Frank Flannery uttered before he turned to hear the swing of the well sharpened axe his long suffering wife wielded. The blade coming down with a sickening thwack. A brilliant arch of blood shooting through the air onto the carpet.

"Damn right you did you bastard."

Mary said as she strolled over to the fireplace and opened the gas wide. The smell made her gag as turned on her heel. The house and it's contents, including Frank, were insured the teeth. This was just a fluke that she narrowly escaped the explosion the leveled the house and her husband. Next on her list was his little side piece but that was something to deal with another day. After all, Kelli Palmer was now under Mary's esteemed employ. She could dole this out for decades, Frank had made it twenty.

#She's Sweet but she's Psycho #Mary Colleen Malone-Flannery #Frank Flannery x Mary Colleen Malone-Flannery

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haberdashing · 1 year ago

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because now I’m curious. self proclaimed air quality nerd, what recommendations have you for CO (and/or CO2) detectors?

...I will admit that I don't actually know a ton about the science here, but I definitely did my research into air quality monitors, and the things they monitor, before getting my own.

This... might be more detailed than you need, and it's less recommending specific monitors and more an overview of air quality in general, but I figure it doesn't hurt to err on the side of details.

First off, you need to figure out what substances you're looking for. Carbon monoxide (CO), carbon dioxide (CO2), radon, ozone, particulate matter (at various sizes), the catch-all category volatile organic compounds (VOCs)... probably other things, but those are the main ones. Frustratingly, you can't get them all in the same monitor. If there's one in particular you're especially concerned about, you can get a dedicated monitor for that; otherwise, you can probably pick two, three, maybe four of the things on the list if you're lucky. At worst, you can mix and match, but then you're the person with multiple air quality monitors in your home, lol.

This is my thought process about each of those categories and what's worth monitoring:

You need a carbon monoxide (CO) detector in your house, just like you need a smoke detector. Similar logic for both: they're not super common things to have an issue with, but you really don't want to need one and not have one. Simple carbon monoxide detectors along the lines of smoke detectors--where you're not really looking at the levels or necessarily looking to catch low-level chronic stuff, you just want it in case there's a Situation on your hands--are pretty inexpensive and easy to find. If you don't have one, get one.

If you're more worried about low-level carbon monoxide exposure, you can get a more detailed monitor for that too. Probably not necessary unless you have reason to worry about it. But if you're worried about leaky or badly-vented appliances, chimney/fireplace issues, car exhaust, anything like that, better to know than to find out the hard way.

The tips to avoid CO poisoning: make sure your appliances and the vents for the gas used by 'em are in working order, and get them checked out if anything's unusual. Keep fireplaces and chimneys clean. Don't run your car in your garage for any length of time, and definitely have the garage door open whenever it's running. Don't use gas appliances to heat your house, even if the heat's out. Don't use outdoor equipment indoors. And if you think you might have a problem, leave the area and get it checked out right away.

Carbon dioxide (CO2) mostly comes from people (or animals) breathing. Not gonna kill you aside from a few highly unlikely scenarios, but if there's a lot of people breathing in a small space, it can get to the point where it makes thinking harder, maybe causes headaches. We don't have a ton of research on what that does long-term, or even how much of an issue it really is short-term when it's not at those rare acute levels. I covered this a bit in the earlier post.

If you think there might be a lot of CO2 building up in your place, you can get a monitor, but just getting the air moving can make a big difference, too. Open a window. Turn your fan on high. Make sure your vents are moving air around in your place, that nothing's blocking 'em. Plants take in the carbon dioxide, so they can help some too, though that's hardly a quick or easy fix.

Radon's an environmental risk, not a personal one. It leaks out from the soil all around you. Either it's in the area or it's not. A one-off test can be all you need to know that much, but if the levels are high, monitoring them is a good idea.

Radon's a worry in the long-term, not the short-term. Chronic exposure causes respiratory issues, including lung cancer. If it's an issue, ventilate your house like with carbon dioxide, seal up cracks in the floors and walls, and think about calling in an expert. And if you've already got respiratory issues, or if you're a smoker, taking care of this is that much more important.

Ozone... is something I keep forgetting about personally, but it is relevant here. Unlike most of the others, ozone does have a smell to it, but olfactory fatigue means you probably shouldn't rely on just that for safety if you're concerned. Like radon, it's more of an environmental risk, unless you're using an ozone generator or something. (Pro tip: don't do that. Or if you must, at least check your ventilation first.) Also like radon, it causes respiratory issues with chronic exposure, and it's worse if you've already got respiratory issues.

AirNow lets you check levels in your neighborhood if you're in the US. I don't know international equivalents but I bet they're out there. If you can use AirNow or a similar source, I doubt a separate air monitor for it is really needed unless there's an ongoing problem, or if you're using stuff that'll generate ozone inside. (Again, ozone generators aren't a great idea. Laser printers and copiers let some out too, but it's probably not an issue unless there's a ton of machinery in a small, unventilated space.)

Particulate matter is anything that's in the air. Dust, dirt, smoke, soot, anything floating around in there. Different air monitors will track different sizes of particles (PM10, PM2.5, PM1)--the smaller ones can get deeper into your lungs and other parts of your body where you don't want 'em. Particulate matter can irritate your eyes and lungs, make asthma flare up, make some other problems worse too. If that sounds familiar, that's because this is a big one with those wildfires we've been dealing with. Smoke gets in your eyes, gets in your lungs, makes life annoying. But it's finer smoke than the kind regular smoke detectors will sense.

Honestly, these days, it makes sense to have some sort of particulate matter detector if you're concerned or interested, just as a heads-up. While opening windows is usually good for air quality, it's exactly the wrong move when the outside air's filled with wildfire smoke. It'd help if you've been smoking inside, though, or if your home's dusty, and those are particulate matter issues too. If it's bad in the area, break out your mask again. The masks you used for Covid will help here too.

Volatile organic compounds... sounds vague, and is pretty vague. It covers a whole bunch of types of air pollutants, including big names like benzene and formaldehyde, but also a lot of more obscure stuff. You find them in paints, solvents, pesticides, air fresheners, even cleaning supplies. Which seems a little backwards, that freshening the air and cleaning your home can create pollutants, but it's true. They can also come from furniture, carpets, and construction materials, especially stuff that's brand new.

Since there's so much lumped in here, the details of what they can do vary wildly. Eye and lung irritation can happen here, and also headaches, fatigue, dizziness, nausea, all those fun vague symptoms. Again, ventilation is the key here, especially when there's a specific issue--you just repainted your kitchen, you renovated your whole second floor, you had to break out the heavy-duty cleaning supplies after your pets made a serious mess, etc. And don't buy any of those things they come from in bulk and let them sit around in your house until you need them some years down the line. Just get rid of those old paint cans. Probably not a huge issue unless you have some specific reason to think otherwise, though, and if there's a specific chemical you're concerned about, you can look into measuring that more specifically.

Finances matter when you're looking at air quality monitors, naturally. The really good air quality monitors, especially with several different things being monitored at once, are a few hundred bucks each. If you don't have a ton of money and aren't really that concerned, there are lower-end ones too.

Some are portable so you can bring them places, especially if they're measuring one specific thing, so you can be that fun guy who brings the carbon dioxide detector to the party if you want. But if you just want to keep track of your home or surrounding area, that's not necessary. If you really get into this stuff, some monitors come with apps and connect to other devices and fun things like that.

I won't really get into specifics of different air quality monitors; it depends what you're looking for and what your budget is, and Googling "best air quality monitors" or "best (insert specific air issue) monitor" will give you some good information there.

But I'll provide my own air quality monitor as an example of how this can apply to a specific person's life, and hopefully it doesn't come off too much like a plug.

For a while I've been struggling with some vague health symptoms: fatigue, headaches, trouble focusing. Obviously there are a lot of things that aren't air quality that can cause that, and I don't have known respiratory issues or any other reason to think I'm especially sensitive to these things, but I wanted to cover the air quality angle of things too, just in case. And I was willing to plop some money down on this, but not quite the full several hundred dollars of the most high-end ones.

We've already got a basic carbon monoxide detector in the house, never had the alarm go off, no real reason to think our appliances might be having issues there. But my room was recently painted, and we've had some recent renovations in the house besides that, so VOCs were on my radar.

I went with a Qingping brand air monitor for about $130. It tracks particulate matter (PM2.5), VOCs, and CO2, as well as temperature and humidity. There's some simple green/yellow/red color coding, not a lot of frills, it's small but not exactly portable, but it covers a fair bit of ground while being cheaper than a lot of the higher-end, big-brand stuff.

I wasn't really planning on using the CO2 tracking much, but it turns out my room's great at keeping air in and not letting it out, and after a night where several pets have been sharing the bed with me, the levels can get on the high end. (I've seen levels higher than 2500 ppm a number of times--for reference, that's the high end of some of those studies I shared in the earlier post, so it could definitely be interfering with my sleep and concentration when I hang out there!) But turning on the fan or cracking a window generally gets levels down. I'm thinking about having someone clean our ducts, too--it hasn't been done in the over 30 years my parents have owned this house, and that could be part of the reason my room's so bad about keeping air in it.

VOCs, on the other hand, were a lot of why I got the monitor, but haven't been a major issue, except right after my room got painted or right after our house cleaners stop by. They tend to stay in the vague yellow range, where it's not great but not horrible, and aside from house cleaning and that one time my room got painted, I can't easily tie this to anything in particular going to cause it.

Particulate matter... I used to joke that it was just a good way of knowing whether my parents have smoked pot inside lately. (It's legal here and I'm not judging, and it never caused really dangerous levels of PM or stuck around long, but I could definitely see the spike when it happened.) Then the Canadian wildfires hit, and. Well. Now it helps me know when to close the windows to keep the wildfire smoke out. And reminds me that there's a reason my eyes were watering when I took that walk outside.

As a snapshot of the current data here: PM2.5 is up to 104 μg/m3, which is orange-red on the monitor--we did cook breakfast inside a few hours ago, which might've made some smoke, and I think my parents let a lot of outside air in when they were coming and going a few minutes ago, and it's definitely a day where the Canadian wildfire smoke traveled down here and made itself a problem. Might skip my daily walk today with that in mind. VOCs are 2.072 mg/m2, or yellow on the monitor... but I never really know what to do with that information, honestly, since it's such a big category with so many possible sources. CO2 is 1173 ppm, or yellow--I've got pets in the room with me, but the fan's keeping air moving, though it's still not down as low as I'd like it.

I'm enough of an air quality nerd that I've actually made a spreadsheet where I log my chronic headaches and the VOCs and CO2 levels at the time of the log. (Not PM--that's not usually a headache thing, I don't think, and it wasn't an ongoing concern here pre-wildfires.) It looks like there's a bit of a correlation there, but not a huge one, and it might still be too early to know for sure. I've also got a cheap digital barometer and log the air pressure in there, too. I've always suspected my headaches came with the storms, and that does seem to be supported by the data, with lower air pressure leading to worse headaches.

And actually, come to think of it, I might go look into one of those one-off tests for radon. A neighbor mentioned having issues with it in her house, I don't think we ever had it checked since moving in, and it's definitely something I want to know about, especially with my dad's asthma.

I do check AirNow now and then, and actually we've got one of those smart home devices (not my choice) which has AQI (air quality index--basic overall air quality tracker, generally focused on particulate matter and ozone outside) listed on it right with the weather, and I generally check that before heading out for a walk or anything else where I'll be spending a good chunk of time outside.

So... hopefully somewhere in there is information that'll help you, anon!

#personal

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