I’ve been posting some angsty stories the past couple of weeks, so I thought for this Easter morning a bit of sweetness and fluff was in order. I hope everyone has a happy and blessed holiday with family, friends, and loved ones if they celebrate, and that they will enjoy this little glimpse of future CS family goodness!
“Oh husband of mine…” Emma Swan’s voice drifted into the living room from the hall with a playful lilt she’d never had much occasion to use before meeting and falling for Killian Jones. Well, she amended to herself wryly as she came up behind where he sat on their couch, hunched over furtively and clearly hiding something, at least not beyond skips she had intended to seduce before taking them down. Still, using it to toy with her pirate a bit before catching him in some form of mischief was a much more entertaining scenario.
She peered over his shoulder, eyes sparkling and a smug smile on her face, almost certain she knew what she was going to find, even as her fingers ran up his neck and scruffed through his coarse, dark hair before gipping it and pulling his head back a bit to meet her eyes where she hovered over him.
Satisfied merriment flickered across his devilishly handsome face and in Killian’s brilliant blue gaze as she stared him down – almost as if he had wanted her to catch him all the time. It was in rare moments like this, precious bits of down time for the two of them together, in their home, safe and comfortable and able to simply be themselves, that Emma saw the playful, boyish side of Killian Jones emerge gleefully. He’d had to grow up so fast, just as she had, that when the little boy he had been before betrayal, slavery, pain, and deprivation, felt assured enough to peek through just a bit in play with her, with Henry, or with their daughter, it was beautiful to see. As a ship’s captain in a dangerous realm, fighting beings like Rumplestiltskin or in tenuous cahoots with such devious compatriots as Cora or Pan, his buoyant, youthful nature had found little outlet for hundreds of lonely years. Now, however, it was sweeter, gentler than that, and it warmed Emma’s heart.
As her eyes trailed from his, she easily spotted the bag of individually wrapped miniature candy bars which she had been hiding in the kitchen cabinet behind her cocoa mix. There were also three or four crumpled metallic gold Twix wrappers on the coffee table in front of him which Killian had not had time to hide. Not to mention the small trace of chocolate in the corner of his smile that she was already hankering to lick away in a slow, sultry kiss.
I’ve been posting some angsty stories the past couple of weeks, so I thought for this Easter morning a bit of sweetness and fluff was in order. I hope everyone has a happy and blessed holiday with family, friends, and loved ones if they celebrate, and that they will enjoy this little glimpse of future CS family goodness!
“Oh husband of mine…” Emma Swan’s voice drifted into the living room from the hall with a playful lilt she’d never had much occasion to use before meeting and falling for Killian Jones. Well, she amended to herself wryly as she came up behind where he sat on their couch, hunched over furtively and clearly hiding something, at least not beyond skips she had intended to seduce before taking them down. Still, using it to toy with her pirate a bit before catching him in some form of mischief was a much more entertaining scenario.
She peered over his shoulder, eyes sparkling and a smug smile on her face, almost certain she knew what she was going to find, even as her fingers ran up his neck and scruffed through his coarse, dark hair before gipping it and pulling his head back a bit to meet her eyes where she hovered over him.
Satisfied merriment flickered across his devilishly handsome face and in Killian’s brilliant blue gaze as she stared him down – almost as if he had wanted her to catch him all the time. It was in rare moments like this, precious bits of down time for the two of them together, in their home, safe and comfortable and able to simply be themselves, that Emma saw the playful, boyish side of Killian Jones emerge gleefully. He’d had to grow up so fast, just as she had, that when the little boy he had been before betrayal, slavery, pain, and deprivation, felt assured enough to peek through just a bit in play with her, with Henry, or with their daughter, it was beautiful to see. As a ship’s captain in a dangerous realm, fighting beings like Rumplestiltskin or in tenuous cahoots with such devious compatriots as Cora or Pan, his buoyant, youthful nature had found little outlet for hundreds of lonely years. Now, however, it was sweeter, gentler than that, and it warmed Emma’s heart.
As her eyes trailed from his, she easily spotted the bag of individually wrapped miniature candy bars which she had been hiding in the kitchen cabinet behind her cocoa mix. There were also three or four crumpled metallic gold Twix wrappers on the coffee table in front of him which Killian had not had time to hide. Not to mention the small trace of chocolate in the corner of his smile that she was already hankering to lick away in a slow, sultry kiss.
This is just a short little one shot that diverges from 5x11 in an alternate way, but I’ve always been fond of it, and now at last I have made it some cover art and am running it as this week’s little promo from my backlog…
Summary:A bit of “Swan Song” canon divergence: Emma makes a vow worthy of the pirate she loves…
I realize that this isn’t the way things happened in “Swan Song”, but it’s more the way I’d have liked to see Killian’s sacrifice and he and Emma’s parting play out. For one thing, the possibility of rescuing him from the Underworld would have seemed more probable to me if he had been taken alive. I tried to get this out of my head and tell myself it was pointless to write since that isn’t the way it went, but it begged to be written, so I did.)
For one stark, horrifying moment it becomes crystal clear in her mind – just what it might have been like for him all those years ago. Her heart stops in her chest, her pulse pounds desperate and blinding behind her eye, her tongue freezes to the roof of her mouth, trapping all the words she’s frantic to say, that she needs him to hear, needs him to know before he is gone. Emma can suddenly understand the loneliness, hopelessness, and blank acceptance in Killian’s eyes when she first met him, when they had spoken atop Anton’s beanstalk of their losses and what it meant to be orphaned. That same despair creeps up on her now at the prospect of losing him.
She told him once that she wasn’t a tearful goodbye kiss person, but as Emma clings to his hand, savoring the warmth of Killian’s calloused skin, the feel of his heavy, bejeweled rings against her fingers for every last possible second, she finds she is unable to let go, the tears can’t be held back; her anguish and need are on full display, and she can’t even bring herself to care. In this moment, the tearing agony and desolation that a young, idealistic naval lieutenant must have once suffered as his captain, his anchor, his beloved older brother died in his arms, rocking his world off its axis forever, tearing him from his moorings and turning him into someone else entirely, is felt in her own chest. She suddenly knows the loss and helplessness of watching while bound to the mast of his own ship as a monster murdered his love and left him to hold her as she died in his arms – not even able to whisper a last ‘I love you’ before she was gone.
Emma sees the Furies – three of them – drawing near, lingering with menace over Killian’s shoulder. But she isn’t letting go easily; she will fight them for him to the very end. She will make sure she sees him off with her love for him on her lips, make sure that he carries the knowledge with him, even on the ferry down the River Styx.
Reaching out now, tenderly, wistfully, she takes his other wrist in her free hand, lightly grasping the curve of his hook and remembering the ball in Camelot, the awestruck look in his eyes and the smile on his face as she had descended the stairs in Arthur’s great hall to stand before him dressed in fresh, innocent white with flowers in her hair, feeling like a girl again – young and new with a chance to start all over. She remembers the gentle guidance in his touch that evening as he led her across the floor and through the unfamiliar steps, never letting her stumble, keeping her from embarrassment or worry though she had never danced that way before. Remembers too the way she had spun and twirled to take his hook as simply as if it were his outstretched hand and the way he had beamed at her gratefully – like she had hung every star in the sky above – and her heart had swelled with love for him. Remembering it now makes this moment, this parting, all the more painful and wrenching as she clings to the curve of steel – a part of him she loves like all the rest. How can she possibly be forced to release it and let him go?
Summary: The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and with limited means, murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial, but in the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for both men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Misthaven Penitentiary’s problem to contend with, and more specifically, the Captain of the Guard charged with keeping order within its walls.
A/N: This fic was inspired by the true account of Martha Casto who was incarcerated in the Missouri State Penitentiary in 1843 for manslaughter. I first heard her story on an episode of Who Do You Think You Are, featuring the lineage of actress Cynthia Nixon. While I have taken some details of Martha’s crime and sentencing to weave into the story, mine will not be a retelling of the accounts of her time in prison. Also, while I am setting this fic in the same time period as the inspiration (mid-1800s), I will be taking some historical liberties.
Thanks to my amazing betas, @snowbellewells and @kmomof4. Also, shout out to @sotangledupinit for the assist in debanging (don’t make it dirty, people) Killian for the art.
“You cannot be bloody serious.” Killian’s eyes jumped from the order in his hands to his brother’s face. “They’re sending her here?”
“This is the only prison within Misthaven County,” Liam reminded him, seemingly unperturbed by the proclamation that a woman, who had just been found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to serve five years for the crime against her husband, would be housed within the stone walls he was charged with overseeing as warden.
Killian shook his head and tossed the missive onto the imposing mahogany desk in front of him. “This is madness,” he said, running a hand through his hair while trying to grapple with the logistical nightmare the magistrate had set upon them. “Her presence will cause chaos among the other prisoners, to say nothing of how she will affect the guards.”
“I see no reason why her incarceration here should cause such disastrous waves of which you seem concerned.”
Killian stared slack jawed at his brother, who had resumed his seat and began scratching quill to parchment. “Brother,” Killian began with an incredulous tone once he again found his voice, “We are not equipped to see to the needs of a woman here, especially one who is with child.”
“We will see to her needs as we do the men under our supervision. However,” Liam held up his hand to stay his brother’s protest, “I recognize that a few concessions will be necessary in order to ensure her safety and well-being whilst she is here.” Setting the ink he had just finished applying to the page, Liam stood and handed the paper to Killian. “As Captain of the Guard, I entrust these added measures into your authority. See to it the other guards are aware of my instructions and that they are upheld.”
Killian grit his teeth, but held his tongue. He knew a dismissal when it was issued, and though Liam was his older brother, he was also the prison warden and Killian’s superior. Positions Killian respected, even if he did think his brother was being purposefully obtuse about the reality of the circumstance about to befall them.
Upon exiting his brother’s office and returning to his own, Killian settled himself in his desk chair and read over the principles by which Liam would have them all handle the presence of Mrs. Cassidy. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Killian released a long sigh before glancing out the window that looked across the open corridor to the upper level cells that stood adjacent to the officers’ wing. From where he sat, Killian had a clear view around the corner to the secluded stretch where lay the cell Liam had determined would house the infamous ax-murderess.
The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and limited means murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial when neighbors and members of the man’s family had come forward with their testimonies of character, painting the victim in portraits of virtue while his wife was further vilified. In the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that had saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Killian’s problem to contend with.
And she would most certainly be a problem.
Keeping order within the prison was a challenge on the best of days. They were woefully underfunded and understaffed. Though not as deplorable in condition as other prisons Killian had seen, Misthaven Penitentiary had always relied on the charity of the local convent to see them through hard times. With its closing earlier in the year, and the nuns dispersed to other parishes, Killian was not sure how they would fare in the upcoming winter. To say nothing of how they’d fare having an inmate of the fairer sex within their midst.
A scoff of scorn erupted from the back of Killian’s throat when he read back over his brother’s edict. No man shall enter Mrs. Cassidy’s cell for any reason, lest it be a matter of life or death. Liam was a damn fool if he thought such a decree would dissuade some of the more… unsavorymembers of their guard from the temptation the woman would present, and it would be left to Killian to maintain order and discipline, not just from the sentenced population, but from his own men. A task he was not relishing in the slightest. Nor was he overjoyed by his brother’s commands that essentially made him her own personal jailor, a notion which left him with a sour taste in his mouth and equally unpleasant sensation in his gut.
Checking the time on his pocket watch, Killian stood and made himself presentable for the shift change. Liam would be addressing the whole of their guard staff, informing them of the impending arrival of Mrs. Cassidy, as well as a dozen or so other new inmates to follow, which meant longer shifts would be required in order to make the necessary preparations. Killian’s hopes of spending some time along the coast while the autumn weather was still agreeable were well and truly snuffed out, much like the desk candle he extinguished before leaving his office.
Here is the conclusion to the story and I hope it was worth the short wait. The tags promised angst, but also a happy ending, which you’ll get…eventually. Thank you for the kind response to this story!
Happy birthday once again to Mary. I hope this is the start of a much better year for you!
Story Summary: After a painful break-up with the love of his life, Killian Jones writes a song for her and sings it every weekend at the bar. One night as he’s playing, he sees her in the crowd with a man he despises, and it leads to an eye-opening discussion between Emma and Killian.
Rating: M
Words: (Ch. 2 - 6320, Total - 11,100)
Find Chapter 1 on Tumblr here
Also found on Ao3 and ffn
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“May…may I come in?” she whispered.
Killian stepped back to open the door wider and watched her brush past him, every muscle in her body tense. He hurried to move his guitar off the sofa, offering her a seat. She perched on the very edge and kept her eyes on her tightly clasped hands.
Killian sat also, leaving a cushion’s width between them. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I’m not. You…you were r-right. Those pictures were fakes. Once I looked at them closer, it was so obvious, but when I first got them, it was…I was…I just couldn’t…” She sucked in a choked breath and exhaled a sob. “How could I be so stupid?”
“I’m sure they were very realistic if what Belle said about Milah’s work is true.”
“They were, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that I thought they could be real.”
“No, it doesn’t. You told me love is built on trust, but…you…you didn’t trust me. When I told you I hadn’t been with any other woman, you should have believed me.”
This is the ending that I was hoping for!!!!! I am so happy that they got to the HEA!!!! Them working to get their love back and the trust that should have been there all along. But we know how Emma is and it is very sad that she never really truly trusted Killian before. But I love that they worked through it.
As for Neal and Milah, well let’s just say that they both got what they deserved! I would have loved Killian punching Neal but I am glad that Emma was the one who confronted them! And they have the balls to lie right to her face! Taking one of Emma’s own photos and using it against her ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh! How freaking low can you get?!?!?!? And Milah being so gross and doing that for her grown son?!?!?!? Yuck!!! Mommy needs to cut the cord now!!!!!
I absolutely loved this!!! Even though it broke my heart several times, it put it right back together again!!!!! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!!!!! I love love love love love love this!!!!!
Several months ago, I heard a commercial which turned into a prompt for this story. When I pitched it to my beta @hookedmom, she came up with lots of ideas for it, so I decided to write it for her birthday in April. I almost feel guilty saying it’s her gift, because she had to do a lot of work to help me clean it up, but here it is. Happy birthday, Mary! Very few of my stories would have been completed without you!
This chapter has several flashbacks and changes in Point of View. These are the symbols for each:
~*~*~*~ = flashback
<<<<<>>>>> = change in POV
Summary: After a painful break-up with the love of his life, Killian Jones writes a song for her and sings it every weekend at the bar. One night as he’s playing, he sees her in the crowd with a man he despises, and it leads to an eye-opening discussion between Emma and Killian.
As Killian tuned his guitar prior to walking out onto the small stage, his mind wandered once again, back to the day when his life, for all intents and purposes, ended.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Don’t lie to me, Killian!”
“I’m not lying to you, Swan! You’re the only woman I love. I would never cheat on you!”
“I saw the pictures of you having sex with another woman!”
“There aren’t any bloody pictures! How could there be pictures when I haven’t been with anyone else?”
“You can’t deny it was you in them! I might be stupid, but I can still identify the man who’s supposed to be my boyfriend!”
“You’re hardly stupid, which is why you should know I would never cheat on you. You always say you can tell when somebody is lying to you, so use your superpower now, Love.”
“Don’t ever call me that again! Love is built on trust and I can’t trust you now, Killian. How can I?’
“Emma…”
Her voice, which had been nearly hysterical, dropped to a whisper and it cut through him more deeply than her shouting. “It’s over, Killian. We’re through.”
Then she was gone, and he spent the next eight months trying to figure out how it all went wrong.
Okay I need Killian to break Neal’s face and soon!!!! Ugh what a bastard!!!! And don’t even get me started on Milah’s part in all of this!!!! She needs some comeuppance for her part in believing her spoiled brat of a child!!!! And I’m sorry but what give either one of the right? Neal thinks he can just have whatever he wants or he he gets mommy to fix it for him? Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh!!!!! I think I scared everyone in my house when I was reading that part and I just let out a scream!!!! I wanted to find a way to real punch Neal and bitch slap Milah!
And I’m sorry but Emma is not innocent in all this! She believed that Killian would cheat on her and I’m sorry that just proved that she didn’t trust Killian!!! And girlfriend that ain’t cool!!! You trust Jefferson over your boyfriend?!?!? Really Emma!!!!!
I can’t wait for tomorrow!!!! I really love this!!!!! I just need to rest!!!!
Here is a little glimpse of my new story, which languished under the description “Sad Musician Killian” until my beta @hookedmom and I were finally able to nail down a title for it! I intended to write it for her in honor of her birthday next week, but she has worked just as hard on it as I have, so it isn’t a surprise at all for her. I’ve decided to post the first chapter on Saturday, and the second and final chapter on Sunday, provided I get it all cleaned up and ready to go by then.
Summary: After a painful break-up with the love of his life, Killian Jones writes a song for her and sings it every weekend at the bar. One night as he’s playing, he sees her in the crowd with a man he despises, and it leads to an eye-opening discussion between Emma and Killian.
Rated: M
*********
He was three songs into his set when he made his usual announcement, unwilling or unable to change it, even though it always tore at his heart. “I wrote this song for the love of my life.”
As he played the first chord, he wondered again why he chose to torture himself. She was never going to hear this song, no matter how many times he played it.
You are my dream
The sweetest I have ever known
My heart is in your hands
It’s yours, no longer my own
I live for you
And the happiness you give me
You’re everything and more
With you, I’m the best I can be
My beautiful love
Straight from heaven above
You helped me to see
Just how sweet love can be
How can I tell you
I love you more every day
I’ll never be the same
Since you stole my heart away
With it in your hands
To protect it or to break
I need to know your choice
What decision will you make?
My beautiful love
Straight from heaven above
You helped me to see
Just how sweet love can be
My life’s not the same
And your love is to blame
Our fate is in your control
Please don’t crush my soul
My beautiful, beautiful love
My beautiful love
As his broken voice finished whispering the lyrics and the last notes faded away, greeted by a smattering of applause from the few people in the bar who were listening, he thought he was having a hallucination. Because she was there; her golden hair glowing in the dim lighting, giving her an ethereal quality which further convinced him she was a figment of his imagination.
He blinked several times and refocused his eyes on the same spot, shocked to see she was still there. He almost involuntarily took a step toward her, until he realized she wasn’t alone. Neal fuckingCassidy was sitting beside her with his arm draped over her shoulders and an arrogant smirk on his face that said he won.
And that’s when it clicked.
*********
I hope you’ll join me for this story filled with angst, a little smut, and, of course, a happy ending!
“Bugger,” the key scraped against the lock, light and flighty as though it was teasing him. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth, concentrating harder as if sheer stubbornness would get him to her faster.
His pocket buzzed, and he grunted at the interruption, closing one eye in an attempt at better aim. It took a handful more tries, curing under his breath while the silent anger of his cell phone thummed as if alive in the back pocket of his jeans.
Rob would no doubt be looking for him, annoyed that he’d left, or perhaps worried as to where he had gotten to, disappearing out the back entrance, jacket abandoned in the booth, hailing a cab and returning to the apartment he hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place.
“Ah ha,” he grinned, turning the knob quickly, the smell of cranberry candles- I don’t care if it’s not Christmas yet, babe, I’m burning it- hanging softly in the air. They had gone shopping, him smiling indulgently as she skipped around Bath & Body Works, thrusting bottles and jars into his face- smell this one!- asking which he preferred. When the dozens of overly scented products had started to smell the same, he had pulled her to him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, her hands occupied holding three different soaps, and pressed a kiss to her mouth, tasting her smile under his lips.
♥️♥️♥️
Tag List (let me know if you would like to be added!):
Emma & Killian have found their way back to their own time, but finding their home again will prove to be another adventure entirely…The Tale of a reunited family, an inescapable destiny and the marvels of indoor plumbing.
Thank you to the world’s best beta and most wonderful human ever @elizabeethan
♥️♥️♥️
“I can see three from here, lad,” Killian heckled, delighting in Henry’s frantic searching of the bookshelf, the small multicolored wrapped chocolates glittering in the morning sunlight. He had stayed up late, having plotted for weeks since learning of this pirate-approved holiday- it’s religious, babe, not pirateous- mapping out the perfect places to hide his grocery bag of loot- hiding treasure? That’s a pirate activity, Swan.
She had stolen a handful of eggs from his bag, and he tsked his tongue at her, setting a small egg on the ledge to ensure it would stay in place, before snatching it back and moving to the next location he had selected. “That’s not a word, Swan.”
“It’s on Urban Dictionary,” she defended, cheeks bulging from the eggs she had popped into her mouth lest he try to retake them. His answer was a disgruntled grunt and the side look he shot her told her exactly what he thought of the dictionary he had never heard of.
The morning was slightly less chaotic than Christmas, but the children vibrated with an energy echoing the sugar which awaited them, and Killian couldn’t help but feel swept along with their enthusiasm, heart skipping as he watched Henry kneel and point to the eggs he had hidden in plain view for Hope.
The sight settled something, a small piece of his soul which still remained anchorless and drifting, calling out to the memory of a home they left behind. This was better, his heart whispered, warm and solid in his chest, this is far, far better.
Hope vibrated with excitement, hoping like a bunny through the living room as Henry helped her find enough eggs to fill her small basket. She was sated for the time being, small fingers diligently unwrapping yet another foiled chocolate egg- she probably doesn’t need any more today, kid- attention entirely on her task as she ignored the dramatic hunt taking place in the next room, Killan’s laugh reverberating through the main floor- warmer…ah, no…. cooler now…. warmer- dressed in bunny pajamas Mary Margaret had brought the evening before, declaring she had informed the Easter Rabbit- it’s a bunny, Mom- that it was to stop by the loft on its way through town.
They were heading to the loft for dinner, instructed to bring baskets for the eggs that the Rabbit would leave- rabbits are the same as bunnies, Emma- and the boardgame Henry was telling them about the weekend before.
“Ugh.”
“Getting warmer.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re cheating,” Henry groused, dragging a chair from the kitchen over, the feet scraping angrily over the gleaming hardwood Killian insisted they keep polished with the floor attachment her mother had bought him for Christmas- aye, Swan, I do like this contraption- before hopping on the seat, cawing gleefully when he seized a caramel filled egg from the top shelf.
“I would never,” Killian scoffed, hiding a smile behind the mug of coffee Emma had pressed into his palm, weary eyed and grumpy over the early morning- enjoy this for me, babe.
“You do,” Henry surveyed the room from his new perch, leaping down and dragging the chair behind him to retrieve two candies from the window ledge. “All the time!”
He found two more eggs before gloating that there could not possibly be any more left hidden, and he was more than prepared to move on to the kitchen.
Killian’s response was to raise an eyebrow, push dramatically away from where he had been lounging on the sofa and swipe four eggs Henry had missed from the picture frame above the mantel- Hey! Wait!- smirking as he unwrapped and popped them into his mouth. “Now, the living room is clear,” he ruffled Henry’s hair and picked the chair up to return it to the kitchen.
