Six Weeks

Here’s a little Daddy!Killian one shot that I had bouncing around my head the last few days. 

It’s a lot less angsty than it seems I promise. 

Also I’ve never had a baby so a lot of this stuff might be wrong! Sorry if it is!

Please reblog if you like it! I’m not too proud to beg. 

Ao3 and Ff

Rated M

Killian had always wondered how he would take to fatherhood. For a long time he’d accepted the fact that he may never be a father. After losing Milah he had abandoned hope that he would ever find someone with whom he would want to share something so intimate with, and after Balefire left in Neverland, he’d begun to fear one horrifying conclusion: that he had become his own father – ready to give the closest thing he had to a child to better his own situation. But when Emma told him she was pregnant he’d been thrilled. He’d finally found that kind of love again, after hundreds of years of searching and he could think of nothing more beautiful than her carrying his child, carrying proof of their love – of true love. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t lost countless nights’ sleep over it. When all the baby books had been read (and there were a lot of them) he often found himself lying awake in bed wondering if he would be like his father or if he could find it in himself to be like Liam – strong, dependable, supportive, loving, constant Liam. As he lay awake those nights he promised himself and silently vowed to Emma and his unborn child that he would be the later. He would be the father they both needed him to be – the one they deserved.

Surprisingly, Killian had taken to fatherhood quite easily. His daughter, so small and fragile he’d been afraid he’d break her the first time he held her, had stolen his heart in her first breaths. And she seemed pretty fond of him as well if he did say so himself – which he did, often and proudly. Since the second they brought her home Killian rarely left her side. He was up for every midnight and 3 A.M. feeding, despite Emma’s claims that it was her turn and he should sleep. He’d mastered the baby bjorn and the car seat to the point where he could do it one handed whilst balancing his girl in his hooked arm, and he’d even discovered that sea shanties were the cure for her restless nights.

“I told you, Swan. We have a little pirate on our hands,” he’d smirked as she’d rolled her eyes at his smugness.

What he hadn’t been prepared for, was how Emma had taken to fatherhood. He’d started noticing it the day they brought her home, when he’d taken his girl from his wife’s arms so that she could get out of the car – the look, her shoulders tense and her lips pressed in a tight line.

“Everything alright, love?” he’d asked, looking her over quickly to rule out anything physically wrong.

“Fine,” she reassured him before quickly taking the baby back and leading the way back into the house.

It had become something of a pattern. Whenever Emma walked into the room, finding him holding their daughter, rocking her to sleep or making faces at her at the breakfast table, she would react the same way, shoulders tensing, lips drawing thin and then an offer to take the baby from him. After the first week he’d started removing his hook whenever he was near his girl, thinking that Emma was worried he would accidentally hurt her and that was the cause for her ails. The next week he’d switched the hook out for his prosthetic hand on a near permanent basis. But still, Emma seemed uncomfortable, even troubled when she came upon the two of them. And still, she maintained that she was ‘fine.’

He’d brought it up to David once when the two met for coffee at Granny’s, baby in tow. It had been an awkward topic to bring up because while David loved his granddaughter Killian was pretty sure he still didn’t appreciate the evidence that Killian and Emma had had sex.

“When you and Snow had Neal,” he started, scratching the spot behind his ear, “Did she begin acting… differently?”

“What do you mean?” David asked, not looking up from the little pink bundle he was cooing at.

“Was she… protective?” he asked for lack of a better word.

David looked at him finally. “Oh, yeah.”

“Really?” Killian asked, relieved.

“We lost Emma so suddenly and so horribly when she was born. It took a while before Snow trusted Neal with anyone besides the two of us.”

“But she did trust you… with your child, I mean?”

David frowned at him. “Of course. What are you asking, Hook?”

Killian squirmed in his seat, taking his girl back and tucking her into the crook of his arm. He brushed the soft hairs that covered her head, still marvelling at the fact that he’d helped create something so perfect.

“Emma… I worry that Emma doesn’t trust me. With the baby I mean.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” David frowned, folding his hands on the table. “You’re out with her now. She wouldn’t let you do that if she didn’t trust you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.

But something still irked him. And he was reminded of it when Emma walked into the dinner a few minutes later to join them, that same expression appearing on her face before she took the baby from him. David shot him a look and Killian knew he’d seen it too.

As they were making their way out the door David stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, waiting until Emma was out of earshot.

“I’ll talk to Snow,” he said. “Maybe it’s a motherhood thing. For now, just try talking to her.”

“I’ve tried. She always says it’s nothing. But I’ll keep trying. Thanks, mate. I appreciate the help.” He clapped David on the shoulder and followed Emma to the car.

“I see what you mean,” Snow said when they were over for Sunday night dinner at the loft. “She certainly seems… on edge whenever you’re holding the baby.” The look of concern on her face had Killian more worried than he’d been in the four weeks since his daughter had been born. “Killian…” she started gently. “Have you ever heard about post-partum depression?”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up. He’d read about it in passing in some of the baby books he’d poured through when Emma was pregnant but he’d never considered the reality of it.

“It can lead to women being afraid to leave their babies in the care of anyone else. Including the father,” she explained, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I have a book on it. If you’d like to borrow it.”  Killian was at a loss for words, unable to speak over the lump in his throat and settling for a nod instead.

That night, after Emma had fallen asleep, Killian sat awake reading the book from cover to cover and deciding he would talk about it with Emma in the morning. He was just getting ready to go to bed when he heard his girl whimpering over the baby monitor.

“Hi, little love,” he whispered, picking her up from her crib and cradling her against his bare chest. Her little fist balled up in the hair there and he winced a little. “You’re getting strong,” he told her. “Just like your mum.” He kissed her head, rocking her and humming lightly as she slowly drifted back to sleep.

“Oh, come on!” His eyes shot up to the doorway where Emma stood in one of his t-shirts with her hair rumpled and an exasperated, annoyed look on her face.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused. He couldn’t figure out what he had done to deserve such a reaction.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” she demanded in a tone he believed to be much harsher than necessary.

“I was going to bed. And skin to skin contact is good for bonding. I read it in a book.”

“You and your books. Just – give her here. You go to bed,” she said, arms out to take the baby. “And put on a damn shirt.”

“No,” he answered, pulling back slightly.

“No?” Shock and confusion flashed across her face.

“No. Look, Swan, I don’t know why it is you don’t trust me with our daughter but we have to talk about it.”

“What are you talking about? I trust you with her.”

He scoffed. “Clearly you don’t. You should see the way you react whenever I hold her – like you think I’m going to hurt her. Like I ever could. And then you take her away as quickly as you can.”

“I don’t –”

“You do. What I can’t figure out is why. Is it because of what I’ve told you about my past? Because you know, Emma, surely you must know I’m not that man anymore –”

“Killian,” she interrupted him, her expression softening as she leaned against the doorframe.  

“I think we need to talk about post-partum depression,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Your mother gave me a book on it and –”

“You spoke to my mother about this?”

“I was worried! Look at you! Even now I can tell how tense you are looking at me holding her.”

“Killian. I don’t –” the frustration was growing in her tone.

“It’s okay, Swan. It’s totally normal and we can face it together and –”

“For fuck’s sake, Killian!” His eyes snapped up to meet hers. “I’m not post-partum! I’m horny!”

Killian froze, eyes snapping up to meet her face which was quickly turning bright red. “Come again, love?”

“I’m horny, okay? All these stupid hormones have me all out of whack since the baby came and seeing you holding her and looking like that it… does something to me.”

Killian tilted his head, trying to wrap his mind around the new information. Gently, he set the now sleeping baby down in her crib and strode slowly towards his Swan. “It does something to you?”

“Yeah, okay. Don’t look at me like that! It’s not that weird okay!” Killian fought the grin that was tugging at his lips. “Just… seeing you, holding a baby, our baby, and being so good at being a dad and I mean, Jesus, would it kill you to put some clothes on every once in a while? It makes me want to jump your bones every damn time I see you with her whether that’s in our kitchen or in the middle of Granny’s. And would you stop looking at me like that! It’s not funny”

Killian couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face at that, or the chuckle that left him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” He was standing directly in front of her now, bodies nearly touching and he could feel her breath on his chest, warm and quicker than it had been a minute ago.

“Because we can’t do anything about it!”

He frowned. “Why not?”

She rolled her eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. “Because the doctor said we have to wait until six weeks after I gave birth to have sex and it’s been a month and it’s freaking killing me!” she groaned in frustration.

“Oh, Swan,” Killian teased, reaching out to brush his fingers along the length of her arm, grinning when she practically jumped at the contact. “You didn’t read any of those baby books I gave you, did you?”

She frowned. “I read some of them,” she said, her voice shaky as his hand continued its exploration along her side and down to the hem of her stolen shirt.

Killian hummed, fingers teasing the skin of her thigh. “Well if you’d read all the books then you would have read that it’s strictly penetration that’s off the table until you’re cleared by your doctor.” His hand slipped under the shirt, making its way up to her hip and across her belly. “Everything else is fair game whenever you decide you’re ready.” Her breathing was coming out in shaky pants, her knees shaking under his touch. “I’ve been waiting for you to let me know,” he said as his hand trailed lower. “I’ve been going mad not being able to touch you.” His fingers dipped into where she was already wet and wanting and she gasped. “So tell me, love,” he drew her bottom lip lightly between his teeth and pulled before letting it drop. “Are you ready?” he asked with a teasing smirk, so close she could feel his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

“Fuck, yeah,” she said, grabbing the back of his head and lunging forward. Killian groaned, pushing her back against the hallway wall. He kissed her long and hard, mouth slanting against hers, letting his tongue delve deep as he ground against her. His hand came up to cup her breast, thumb flicking her nipple through the shirt and she threw her head back, biting back a moan only so as not to wake the baby. Killian took it as an invitation, letting his lips and tongue and teeth trail along the side of her neck to the spot behind her ear that had her hand fisting in his hair hard enough to hurt.

“Please,” she begged and that was all he needed to hear before dropping to his knees right there in the hallway. He took a moment to take her in. He always loved seeing her like this, lost in the throes of passion, blind to the world around her. She ground her hips towards his face and he smiled, pressing a kiss low on her belly before drawing one of her thighs up over his shoulder and dipping his head.

The fist of touch of his tongue against her heat had her slamming a hand against the wall above her head while the other grabbed hold of his hair, holding him in place. He smirked again and focused on the task at hand, licking and sucking and kissing, keeping his touch light for fear of hurting her but from the muffled sounds she was making he wasn’t too concerned. It didn’t take long, not after four weeks of pent up sexual frustration and as he closed his lips around her clit and pulled she convulsed over him. He helped ease her down her body sweaty and shaking before finally going boneless.

She urged him up to his feet, pulling him in for a kiss that washed away all the fear and doubt he’d been harbouring over the last month.

“I’m so glad you read,” she said and he buried his head in her neck to stifle the booming laugh that escaped him. “Shh! You’ll wake her!” Emma hushed, holding him tight to her body.

Killian grinned salaciously against her skin. “I don’t know, Swan. If I’m being honest I feel like that could work to my benefit.”

She smacked him on the shoulder for his cheek and he nipped the crook of her neck in retaliation. They stood there in comfortable, happy silence until Killian’s head snapped up, realization dawning on him.

“Bloody hell, how are we going to explain this to your parents?”

Let me say these words (before the world burns)

Read also on: AO3 , FF

Rating: T

Pairing: Bellamy/Clarke (The 100)

Title: Based on @the-ships-to-rule-them-all poetry: link

Summary: “We’ll survive this,” he said

.Her forehead wrinkled. From all his fidgeting, she reckoned he wanted to say something else entirely. When he didn’t, her stomach turned to led. The world’s end was nigh,and Bellamy could act brave all he wanted for her benefit, but she didn’t want it.

None of it changed the fact they had 10 minutes on the clock.

Something goes wrong with their plan. 4x13 Speculation (that won’t happen but hey i brought all the angst to ya. )

Clarke sat on the bed, staring down at her shoes in the half-lit office inside Becca’s lab. Bellamy saw her through the glass walls from afar , understanding full well what prompted such reaction. He approached the room and opened its door, strolling towards her until she looked up. When she did, her eyes were wide and glossy and her chin quivered.

For an instant, he just stopped in front of her, letting his hands drop to his sides as he waited.

“We won’t be able to make it,” She croaked, grimacing at the admission.

He sighed, then lifted up his eyebrows. “We don’t know that.”

She tightened her lips. “There are many things wrong with our plan, things we don’t know if will go wrong. But this one we do.”

He took one step closer, a sharp crease appearing between his eyebrows, “Raven says we have a 30% chance of openning the hatch remotely”

Clarke shook her head and looked away . She propped her elbows on her knees, then stood up. The young woman walked toward the glass walls, peeping down at the lab as she gulped. “And if we’re the other 70%? And the rocket is stuck down here because we couldn’t get it open?” she muttered

“Then we die.”

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These Nights Never Seem To Go To Plan- Chapter 1

A Captain Swan FF

Rated M

Also on FF.net and AO3


She came out here to think. To think, to muse, to seethe. From the outside looking in, a sheriff who is supposed to be patrolling on the night shift pulled over to the side of the road at the town line, scowling at everything and nothing while she mutters to herself may look irresponsible. But Emma Swan knows her town. It’s sleepy.

(And Grumpy and Dopey, and if those two idiots whose real names escape her at the moment get drunk at The Rabbit Hole for the umpteenth time and start some shit, she knows it will take her exactly four minutes to get to the scene by breaking every speed limit with calculated risk.)

Speaking of speed limits…

The motorcycle raced past her so fast she barely had time to curse the interruption of her already curse-laden train of thought before a braking taillight illuminated the entire tree-lined road behind her.

“Too late, asshole.” With a grin, Emma switched on her headlights, flipped on her flashers and swung a U-turn, ready for whatever manner of entertainment the speeding rider was going to provide.

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These Nights Never Seem To Go To Plan - Chapter 10

A Captain Swan AU FF

Rated M

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, and also on FF.net and AO3)

Thank you all so much for the amazingly supportive and sweet messages, reviews and tags. This is my first multi-chapter fic (and I can count the one-shots I’ve written on about two fingers), and the response has been so lovely and welcoming. 

A happy and safe 4th of July to all who celebrate! xoxo


He’s been shot.

That’s exactly what his detective, Locksley, had said when ten o’clock rolled around. Jones was two hours late for their date and Emma had broken her standard operating procedure of never chasing a man. She called Killian ready to eviscerate him with a speech she had been rehearsing since eight-thirty but a vaguely familiar voice answered instead.

“Sheriff Swan? It’s Robin Locksley.”

“Oh. Hello, detective.” Emma had cursed herself, hoping she sounded less awkward than she felt and significantly more professional. All of the piss, vinegar and scathing retort was put on hold, replaced by no small amount of embarrassment at being caught calling a colleague (of sorts) after hours. “I was hoping to speak with Captain Jones.”

“He’s…Emma, he’s been shot.” Robin was giving her a rundown over the phone as she grabbed her bag and slipped on the pair of fuck me pumps she’d bought for a night out with a skip years before. They went well with the skintight red dress she’d also bought for the same occasion and hadn’t considered wearing again until she decided she wanted nothing more than to watch Killian Jones’ jaw drop when she opened her front door for their first date. In another time and place, she’d be giving herself a little pat on the back for having the ability to break into a dead run out to her car wearing both.

“…taking fire and he was hit trying to move an injured officer outside the perimeter for medical attention.”

Her head swam.

There was more. Something about nicked carotid artery, surgery, still unconscious. When she’d hung up the phone, it had been Emma’s turn to break every speed limit between Storybrooke and Bangor. No slick, racy motorcycle or new(er) truck for her; just a Volkswagen Bug whose steering column had one hell of a shimmy over fifty-five miles per hour, a lead foot, and desperate a need to see Killian for herself.

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These Nights Never Seem To Go To Plan - Chapter 14

A Captain Swan AU FF

Rated M - this chapter is a hard (LOL) M

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, and also on FF.net and AO3)


She was nervous.

Like hand wringing, heart racing, can’t-bring-herself-to-knock-on-the-door nervous. Nervous to take this next step toward real.

Emma stood on Killian’s doorstep, hands literally wringing and heart literally racing. She shuffled her feet, suddenly self-conscious in the floaty, blush-colored dress she’d bought specifically for the occasion and second-guessing the girlish high ponytail. She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she missed his form moving behind the stained and frosted glass of the front door, jumping when his voice came jovially from the other side.

“Are you going to ring the fucking doorbell or stand there all night?”

Poking her finger repeatedly against the button, she yelled, “There, is that better?” over the jangling of the bell.

Killian was laughing as the door swung open, face quickly turning from amused to speechless. He shook his head as he looked her over. “You look stunning, Swan.”

Emma would have – and should have – said thank you, but she was too busy taking stock herself.

Dark grey trousers, artfully scuffed black shoes, and a dark blue waistcoat over a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled and pushed up to the elbow (holy fuck, those forearms.) She hadn’t seen him wear jewelry before: a heavy watch on one wrist, hammered silver cuff on the other, several rings, a motherfucking earring and two thin chains that were nestled in a generously visible patch of chest hair. The downright salacious look he was giving her coupled with the pink tip of his tongue curled over his upper lip took the whole package to a new level of dark, dangerous and devilish. Jesus, he was beautiful.

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Letters from War Chapter 27, an once upon a time fanfic | FanFiction


Once Upon a Time (Swan Queen)

AO3 | FF

Rating: M

Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst

Emma is a soldier on reserve in Fort Benning. Regina is the Mayor of Storybrooke. Through a pen pal program designed to ease the ache of homesick soldiers, Emma and Regina begin sending letters to one another as their relationship grows from cordial acquaintance to something neither woman would have expected - until the letters stop coming.

“I’ve got time for one more question.”

A flurry of hands rose up, reporters and bloggers all hoping to get in one more question for their piece before the moderator pointed to a young girl, college age with a streak of purple in her hair and her eyebrow pierced, looking more sheepish than what her eccentric appearance boasted. She gripped the proffered microphone in her hand, careful to avoid the envious gaze of the hotshot reporters as she cleared her throat and smiled up at August. “Hi, Mr. Booth. First I wanted to say that I love your book. I couldn’t put it down once I picked it up. It was so refreshing to go into a bookstore and see on their bestsellers shelf right when you walk in a book that was about people like me.”

“Thank you,” August grinned. “And what’s your name?”

“Sam. Samantha Chan.”

“I’m really glad you liked it, Sam Chan.”

Her cheeks tinted pink as she laughed lightly into the mic. “I was just wondering what your inspiration was when you were writing or even thought about writing?”

The smile that stretched across the author’s face could only be described as smug. It was a question he had been asked numerous times, and the usual answer he gave some inquisitive reporter was that every love story should be told or that it was about time there was more representation in media. While true, and he stood firmly behind his belief, this time, as he grinned down at Sam Chan, his go-to reply was thrown out the window when Malinda motioned once again that time was up. “Well,” August began wryly, “let’s just say that I’m late for my inspiration’s wedding.”

These Nights Never Seem To Go To Plan- Chapter 2

A Captain Swan AU FF

Rated M (because I’m smutty trash)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, and also on FF.net and AO3)


Not only no, but fuck no and fuck you.

That’s what Emma would have told anyone who suggested she spent the two o’clock hour of her bimonthly night shifts parked at the town line, hoping for another run-in with the mysterious Captain Killian Jones. She just liked communing with nature and the forest. While sitting comfortably in a vehicle, surrounded by the layer of fast food and snack wrappers that carpeted the inside of the cruiser when there were no witnesses to her natural slovenliness.

Years in the foster system usually produced to types of people: those who retained a regimented cleanliness out of fear of being tossed out in the cold and those who flipped an adulthood finger to that notion and were a little looser with the state of their surroundings. Not that Emma would ever cop to the sob story behind her clutter. So what if she controlled her environment by tossing an empty beverage cup over her shoulder once in a while, just because she could?  She wiped up any drips of hot chocolate laced with cinnamon up before handing the car over to her deputy at shift change. No harm, no foul.

And, as far as she was concerned, the same went for Emma’s excursions to the edge of town. Wanting to keep riffraff out of Storybrooke and her citizens safe was the primary duty the Sheriff. Stopping hell on two wheels from endangering the townsfolk was important, regardless of the form it took. It didn’t matter that the handful of times she’d seen him since their first meeting, he’d barely so much as glanced in her direction as he drove past at a respectable and completely lawful speed. The two fingers he’d raised in her direction were the same he’d toss toward any other rider in passing.  

His seeming disinterest in another encounter was why she was parked in the dark just past midnight this time. If she allowed herself to be honest, Emma would admit the time change put her outside of the 2 a.m. box she’d found herself in, but still pressed right up against it.

Closing her eyes, Emma rubbed her thighs together at the sudden mental image of being pressed right up against her cruiser. Or a door, or a wall, or any other immoveable object as long as Jones was the one doing the pressing.  Emma had taken to allowing her imagination to run wild (and her hand to sneak inside her panties as she lay in bed) in the month since she had first encountered him. 

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These Nights Never Seem To Go To Plan - Chapter 4

A Captain Swan FF

Rated M

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, and also on FF.net and AO3)


Best behavior didn’t begin to describe the next three months of Killian’s life.  If the best revenge is living well, he figured the best way to atone for his drunken asshole discretions was to get his shit together. 

He threw himself into his work when he was in the city, honoring his brother’s legacy. Instead of booze-soaked, lost weekends at his cabin, Killian found grounding solace in hiking the surrounding woods and kayaking the waters. The sagging front porch was fixed, a ripped screen replaced, fresh paint adorned the kitchen, and the shower walls had been switched out from 1967 avocado green to more modern white beveled subway tiles. Not necessarily backbreaking labor, but it provided Killian with two things he hadn’t realized were missing from his life outside of his job—focus and pride.  

Critically examining the evenness of his grout job in one of the corners as he let warm water cascade down his back, Killian willed himself to not think of the most difficult aspect of his newfound discipline - staying away from Storybrooke on the many long rides he took on his motorcycle. 

As per usual, he failed.

Every fiber of his being was drawn toward the town and Emma Swan and he had to talk himself out of bringing her hot chocolate laced with cinnamon on the chillier nights, or accidentally-on-purpose running into her under the guise of looking through the town’s antique store and pawn shop for treasures and oddities with which to furnish his cabin.

The longing Killian felt to be in her presence—to earn her forgiveness and favor—was constant. It unnerved him and he found it easier to embrace his more carnal interests, imagining how mind-blowing sex with Emma would be when alone with his thoughts and his hand. 

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These Nights Never Seem To Go To Plan - Chapter 6

A Captain Swan AU FF

Rated M (there is a fair amount of smut and Killian’s filthy mouth in this chapter, so be warned, lovelies)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, and also on FF.net and AO3)

Thank you for the lovely comments, as well as the reblogs, kudos and favorites. xoxo


Four days. Four goddamned days of covering ground, chasing leads, tromping through the woods, and all Emma wanted was a hot shower and more than four hours of sleep in the cold. She didn’t even blink as she half-assed eavesdropped on Jones’ phone call with his department’s admin as he paced in front of the car, gleaning from the side of the conversation she could hear that in the flurry of activity surrounding the search for Jefferson and Grace, that department protocol when it came to travel had been followed to a T.

The budget required any rank below Commander to share accommodations, with females given the option to room alone. The admin had gone down the list of Bangor badges and, determining everyone out in the field at the time was of the penis persuasion. She hadn’t taken into consideration Emma was tagging along from an outside jurisdiction, and a reservation had been made for one room at the cheap motel they’d pulled into whose heyday had been somewhere in the Nixon era. And before Emma could drag her ass out of the car to rent her own room if sharing was going to be such a big fucking deal to him, the admin told Jones she’d tried to snag the last vacancy, but it was no longer available.

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