This is a couple of days late, but I didn't want to wait a whole year to post it. I hope a few people out there will still enjoy some Independence Day CS fun and fireworks!
{Post Season 6 Future Family Fluff Fic}
Summary: The extended Swan-Jones-Charming family celebrate a danger and drama-free Fourth of July, and later Emma and Killian enjoy some fireworks of their own.
Also available on AO3, if that's your preference...
There aren't that many notes to add here, other than that I have imagined Henry going off to college in the Land Without Magic post-s6, and I have my own imagined CS child - Morgan Ruth Jones - included here. Both of these are things I have included in several previous one shots. Though they don't all have to be read as if they are connected, they don't have to be separated from each other either.
by: @snowbellewells
The gentle afternoon breeze stirring over their backyard and lifting the escaped tendrils of hair from the hot and sticky skin of her cheeks and neck was an immense relief to Emma Swan (now Jones - for almost three years she mentally corrected herself with a smile, though Killian still called her “Swan” in a way she loved, so she would probably never fully part with her chosen first surname) as she flopped into one of the lawn chairs they had set up on the grass. Any slight easing of the 90-some degree temperatures that had swelled in Storybrooke over the past week was more than welcome. It had begun to feel to Emma as though she might melt right there on the lawn if Morgan begged her to play with her in the sandbox or push her on the swing much more. Thankfully, both her “uncle” Leo, growing like a weed and ready to start first grade in the fall, and her “bubby” Henry - Morgan’s absolute favorite person and currently home from Bowduin College on summer break - had joined forces to give Emma a breather.
It was easy to find herself smiling as she settled back into her lawn chair more comfortably, looking out over the yard at everyone she loved gathered happily in one place to celebrate the Fourth of July. Her father was manning the grill, proudly wearing without a hint of irony or embarrassment the “All Hail the Chef!” apron Killian had much-too-gleefully joined with Henry in gifting him some years ago. Her mother was standing nearby, keeping her husband company, no doubt, but also chatting with Ruby and Granny Lucas, and maintaining her view of her son and granddaughter on the swingset across the yard. Henry was playfully grabbing Morgan from the end of the slide and swinging her up into the air to peals of laughter. He then fell to the ground, pretending to be overcome by the combined forces of Morgan and Leo as they tackled him and proceeded to roll over top of him in the grass.
Emma had just wondered where her husband had gotten to when a sudden cool sensation pressed against her bare upper arm made her jump. Turning her head, she found Killian smiling down at her fondly and offering an icy glass of lemonade.
“Thanks, Babe,” she offered gratefully. Her startled reaction immediately eased as she took the drink; the chilled glass cooling her palms and fingertips. And when she tipped her face up, Killian leaned over to press a kiss to her lips.
“You looked as though you might need some refreshment,” he murmured, eyebrows waggling as he lowered his voice further to add, “even if we have to save the stronger libations for later.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, shaking her head playfully when he only winked. Her incorrigible pirate. He had made a gentle, devoted father and husband - not to mention a second deputy for she and David - but she was eternally grateful that it seemed he would never lose his mischievous smoulder or the ability to steal her breath from her lungs.
“Rum’s still your answer for everything, isn’t it?” she teased, sipping the lemonade and closing her eyes for a second afterward at the cool, sweet bliss.
“Not everything, Darling,” he replied, “but, as I first told you back in Neverland… it never hurts.”
The fiery attraction zinging wordlessly back and forth between them as they gazed at one another crackled palpably, making sweat break out over Emma’s skin for an entirely new reason. They might have stayed there in silent interaction, latched onto one another and all around them fading away, if David’s voice hadn’t called out, breaking in and demanding Killian’s attention.
Shaking her head at his arched brow, his expression practically preening at her without words, as if to say, ‘See? Everyone knows that I can make anything better’, Emma snorted inelegantly at him, shooing him off toward his best buddy and reclining in her seat once more to enjoy her drink as he went.
She found, however, that though the immediate heat generated by his presence at her side did ease, she was still vibrantly aware of his presence, regardless of a bit of distance. As he and David talked animatedly back and forth, peering under the cover of the grill as if hamburgers and hot dogs were as serious a business as plotting how they would approach any of their previous foes, the corners of her mouth tipped upward, humored by just how close her father and her pirate husband had become - as unlikely as that might have once seemed.
Beyond that observation, though, her laughter faded. Her cheeks flushed, completely separate from the outdoor heat, as she studied Killian’s long, lean frame with an almost embarrassing hunger. Thankfully, her glass hid the way her tongue played over her lips as her eyes drank in the ripple of his shoulder muscles playing across his back, easily seen through the simple gray T-shirt he wore. She’d missed his pirate leathers from time to time, but when her gaze dropped to take in the way his snug jeans accentuated his butt, and the dark wash denim lovingly encased his firm thighs and displayed all his assets to great effect, she almost moaned aloud, biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood and repeating to herself that she was at a family gathering.
And then Killian - the smug bastard! - glanced up, catching her eyes across the yard, and winked at her knowingly. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking - what he was doing to her - and delighting in it. She was a puddle right there where she sat; melted on the spot as surely as ice cream in the sun. Emma couldn’t even bring herself to mind, especially not if she could imagine he would then use that tongue of his to clean up the mess…
Suddenly, a blast of cold water caught her by surprise, turned on her in a sudden, icy torrent, and jolting her from her heated reverie with a sharp cry. Turning quickly, she found Henry with the garden hose, now aimed at the space between them, but with a disgruntled look on his face as he stated blandly, “Morgan thought you looked overheated.”
Flanked on either side by his giggling younger sister and uncle, Henry’s words seemed true enough, but Emma found she couldn’t quite look her eldest in the face. He had clearly gathered the gist of her thoughts and been the one who decided to help her cool off. Part of her wanted to scold the three of them, with her clothes now soaked and clinging to her, her hair soggy and ruined, and more than a little sheepish, but there was no sense in begrudging them their lighthearted fun. She was too glad to have everyone together, her children grinning at her with mischief, yes, but also love, so that she could only shake her head and laugh as well. Her joy almost hung in the heavy air along with the summer haze.
Wryly she managed, “Well, thanks to you all, I’m much cooler now, but I think I had better go change before we eat.”
She slipped off her flip-flops at the sliding door off the porch, hoping to keep her squelching footsteps from tracking water all through the house. She made her way upstairs quickly, toweled off, twisted her damp hair into a knot on top of her head, and changed into different clothes. She had just taken a glance in the mirror, decided she’d managed to salvage the damage well enough, and moved to return to the party when Killian slipped into the room with her, evil grin spreading across his face irresistibly.
“My, my, Love, you appear to have been rather soaked,” he purred salaciously. “I thought perhaps I might offer to help?”
Placing her hand on his chest and forcing herself not to hum and nuzzle into his firm chest, Emma pushed him away. “Oh, you’ve done quite enough already,” she assured, green eyes sparkling with mischief of her own. “And you’ll help me alright,” she added, allowing her curves to slide against his body as she moved past him to the door, “but you’ll have to wait until later. We’ve got company.”
A growl rumbled low in Killian’s throat, but he didn’t pull her back and turned to follow her. “I hardly think I can be blamed,” he murmured into her ear, “when you were the one clearly having such heated thoughts that our son felt the need to hose you down. But I can be patient, Wife… if you can.”
***~***~***~***~***
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed by pleasantly, even if there was anticipatory energy humming beneath Emma’s skin all the while. The way Killian would catch her eye at times had her smouldering from every nerve ending and impatiently counting the seconds until everyone else went home.
And yet, her heart was incredibly full at the simple moments along the way as well. She wouldn’t have traded an average, everyday, no villains or calamities involved family holiday for anything. The slight mist of unshed tears in her father’s eyes as she went by him at the grill, pulling her into a one-armed hug and cradling the back of her head in his free hand as he planted a kiss to her crown and then placing a juicy burger on her plate, whispering, “The best one for my Princess.” The smile of understanding exchanged with her mother as they both washed sticky popsicle from the little ones’ fingers and faces. The pure enthusiasm and love plain on Henry’s face as he came to give her a hug and offered to take her plate when their picnic was over, before he went to help his grandpa set up the fireworks. Emma felt she was on the strangest sort of emotional rollercoaster - back and forth between ardent desire and the joyful solace of the sort of holiday she had only ever dreamed of for most of her life.
So, if her smile was a bit tremulous when she watched and snapped pictures while Killian helped Morgan draw shapes in the air with sparklers, she knew he wouldn’t tell. And if she brushed a few stray tears from her cheeks as she gathered her little girl on her lap to watch the colors burst in the sky, she knew that if anyone else saw, they would understand.
By the time they were seeing everyone out the front door and down the walk with arms laden down bearing containers of leftover burgers, potato salad, and cake, Emma felt limp with exhaustion from the heat and how she had been going since early that morning, but she also had a bone deep sense of satisfaction at how well things had gone. Looking back on it, a gentle smile on her face, it truly felt that they’d had as close to a perfect day as humanly possible.
Henry had slipped out as well, wishing her a good night as he scooped up his keys from the dish by the door, saying that Violet’s family celebrations were over, and he wanted to go see her and meet up with some of their other friends; Grace, Nicholas, and Ava among others, Emma presumed. She was just leaning against the closed door, her body slack and relaxed and awash in happy reverie, when she heard her husband’s steps entering the room from the kitchen.
“Henry went out as well?” he asked curiously, brow arched in question as she opened her eyes to look up at him.
“Yep, went to meet up with Violet and the rest,” Emma confirmed.
“Meaning we have the house to ourselves at last then, eh Wife?” he drawled, letting his tongue poke out to trace lasciviously along his lower lip. He knew the action drove her crazy, and he purposely held her gaze to take in the response she couldn’t hide. Even as Emma felt her pulse skyrocket, sweat breaking out at her hairline, eyes dilating, he simply sauntered toward her as if they possessed all the time in the world; just reeling her in.
A jerky bob of her head in an awkward nod was all the response Emma could muster for several seconds as she watched him prowl closer to where she leaned against the door. Her wobbling knees needing the support, if she were honest. He was every bit the predator; sleek and graceful as a panther stalking its prey, the pirate captain who had stricken terror in the hearts of challengers throughout centuries on the sea clearly evident through the milder, modern facade he had taken on for his life in Storybrooke. She cursed herself for stuttering, desire trembling inside as she managed, “At least for a little while we do.”
“Then let’s not waste time,” he prompted, swooping in to capture her lips in a kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. They were both lost in the meeting, the frantic give and take of lips, teeth, and tongue, and clenching, wandering hands until they had to part for air. Only then did he add, “I do believe I promised to help you out of your earlier predicament, after all.”
His playful banter brought back a bit of her own feistiness from where he had almost made her dizzy enough with lust to forget herself. Tilting her head, she gave him a feigned critical eye, not that she actually possessed the willpower to deny him. “All in good time, Sailor,” she hedged, playfully tapping his nose as she slipped from his embrace, thwarting his clever maneuvering to get her to where he could tip her over the arm of the couch.
It was almost physically painful to slip from his arms, but she had a surprise in store for her husband, and she wasn’t going to be deterred, not this time. Steeling her resolve, Emma gave KIllian a gentle push toward the stairway, with an insinuating tease of her own. “Go on up and get yourself ready. I just have to grab something, then I’ll be right behind you.”
“See that you are, Minx,” he growled, that low rasp need sometimes added to his voice making her shiver despite being flushed with heat. He moved to do as she asked though, and Emma blew out a quick, steadying breath.
Turning on her heel sharply, Emma hurried into the kitchen and yanked open one of the drawers under the counter where she’d hidden her treasure. Her hand closed around the paper packaging, and she snatched her prize in a tight fist, anxious to reach her pirate upstairs and practically vibrating with need. She might have slammed the drawer closed again with a bit more hurried force than necessary, but no else was around to see or make her admit it.
She smirked at her own haste, taking the stairs two at a time and only pausing just outside their bedroom door to rip the package open quickly before stepping inside to find her waiting husband. Of course, even knowing almost exactly what he would do in her short absence, Emma nearly choked on her tongue at the sight that greeted her.
Killian clearly hadn’t wasted any time. He stood at the foot of their bed, turning at the sound of her arrival to show that he had already stripped off his shirt, his bare chest mesmerizing as her eyes took a detour down the trail of dark hair to where he had already unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and had hand and hook at his waistband, ready to push them down his legs. The insouciant smirk he sent her way belied how his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. It was comforting to know she wasn’t the only one affected, about to jump out of her skin in anticipation.
“Was this what you had in mind, Love?” he sassed, letting his hips lead as he moved forward to meet her and brushed his hook along the shoulder seam of her shirt, the question clear in his eyes.
Emma couldn’t speak without spoiling her plan, but nodded her assent without hesitation. The rip of fabric was the only sound in the quiet room until she felt the parted fabric slip off her as the ruined shirt fell to the floor. She pushed up to her toes to capture his mouth, much like he had done to her minutes earlier. Once their mouths opened and met, the handful of Pop Rocks candy she had downed began to crackle and snap, just as she had intended. Killian’s tongue had swept in to meet hers, but at the charged sensation, unknown to him and almost like an imagined spark of electricity, he jerked back in surprise.
She’d known what was coming, but the fizzing reaction made Emma flinch abruptly along with Killian. Giggling in spite of herself, having managed to take the man who had seen so much - introduced her to so much she had never experienced - completely unawares. It was a ridiculous and silly experiment, but she had known it would throw him off rhythm and allow her to tease him a little, just as he so often teased every bit of possible pleasure from her.
Killian overbalanced and stumbled as he reared away from the unexpected charge and fell on the bed, pulling Emma with him. She didn’t resist, falling atop him in a tangle of limbs and laughter, moving to cover his body with her own and tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling the dark tufts lightly - just the way he liked - to put his head right where she wanted him.
As she trailed kisses, nibbles, and licks up his straining neck toward his ear, sparks of both the popping candy and real electric attraction continued to sizzle along his skin from her questing mouth. Nearly panting at the effort it took to stay still and let her have her way, Killian gasped, “You really are… quite the little… firecracker… aren’t you, Swan?”
Grinning again, pleased as punch, before she leaned in to kiss him once more, Emma quipped, “Well, I did promise you that this holiday always ends with fireworks.”
He laughed right along with her, allowing her to tackle him, pin his wrists with enthusiastic hands. The heat ratcheted ever higher - laughter turning to moans and sighs that consumed them both. Soon the rest of their clothes went by the wayside, they were finally able to let the rest of the world go dark, and the fireworks between them were fully set alight.
Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @apiratewhopines @xarandomdreamx
#how do you even with these incredibly brilliant acting skills #and those jaw clenches he did several times in this episode #i present to you #mr colin o’donoghue #as the amazing multi-faceted killian jones
Many thanks for reading, commenting and giving kudos to this story. I'm happy I could post the whole thing within about 2 months of @whimsicallyenchantedrose's actual birthday! Thanks again to @kmomof4 for helping me with the ending and for her flails.
A very big thank you to @hollyethecurious for providing the prompt for the story!
STORY SUMMARY: Desperate to save her beloved dogs when her ex-boyfriend makes threats against them, Emma Swan takes Killian Jones up on his offer to foster them.
RATING: M (for language, verbal abuse and gun violence)
WORDS: 680 in the epilogue, 18,817 total
Read the entire story on Tumblr - Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6
Can also be read on Ao3
Epilogue found under the cut
*********
“Oscar! Sophie!” Emma called, stepping out the back door. The shaggy sheepdog came running immediately, while the other dog continued sniffing along the fence. “Typical male,” Emma said, patting Sophie’s head. “Never wants to come the first time.”
“Excuse me?”
Emma smiled as she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist. “You never have to ask me more than once to come,” Killian growled in her ear.
She giggled, turning to face him. “Do you always have to turn everything into some sort of sexual innuendo?”
“Not everything,” he emphasized, swaying her back and forth in his arms. “But when you present me with such an easy opportunity, I have to take advantage of it.”
She nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that never failed to make her heart beat a little faster. “Play your cards right and you can take advantage of me later.”
He pulled back, his expressive eyebrow perched high on his forehead. “Why, Swan - are you making a sexual innuendo?”
“Oh, it’s not an innuendo,” she purred. “It’s a promise.”
His other brow shot up to join the first. “Is it, now?” he asked, his voice deepening with desire.
Emma toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck as she met his fiery gaze. Eight months ago, her heart was broken because she’d fallen in love with the wrong man. Now that same heart felt light and happy. All it took was finding the right person and everything changed.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s too bad we have Mary Margaret and David’s engagement party in less than an hour.” Two weeks ago, their best friends had gotten engaged and Mary Margaret insisted on planning a party to celebrate.
Killian checked his watch. “We still have forty minutes. That’s plenty of time for me to give you my full and prompt attention,” he murmured against her temple in a sultry tone, raising goosebumps on her arms.
“Uh-uh, you told your brother you would call him after work today to finalize plans for our trip to see them next week,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She really was eager to make good on her promise.
“It’s bad form to get a man’s hopes up, just to dash them with the mention of his wanker of a brother.” He attempted to glare at her, but she knew him well enough to see the twinkle of mirth in his eyes.
“Don’t call your brother names,” she scolded playfully. “He and Elsa love you and they’ll worry if you don’t call them on time.”
“Bloody hell,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. “We can’t catch a bloody break.”
“Watch your language in front of the kids,” Emma chided, drawing his attention to the two dogs sitting at their feet, looking up at them. After giving him a sweet kiss, she added, “Tomorrow is Saturday. You don’t have to work and I have the late afternoon shift, so we can stay in bed until noon, if you like.”
“Except the kids will need to be let out to do their business and will want to take a W-A-L-K,” he grumbled.
Both dogs perked their ears and Oscar cocked his head to the side. “I think they know what you spelled,” she laughed.
“They’re too smart for their own good,” Killian said, reaching down to scratch behind first Sophie’s, then Oscar’s ears.
“They are, but you’re right,” she sighed. “They’ll have to be taken care of in the morning, so no lazy morning in bed for us.”
“That’s alright, Swan. I don’t mind. I’d do anything for these two.”
“Yeah?”
“Aye. After all, if it wasn’t for them, I might have missed out on meeting the love of my life.” He paused, giving her a mischievous grin. “And besides, after taking care of them, we can get back in bed and stay there until noon.”
“That sounds like another promise to me,” she replied, smiling widely.
“A promise and a doggone good plan, if I do say so myself.”
*********
Thank you for all the likes and reblogs. I hope you enjoyed the story!
CSSS25 Fic: "Next Year All Our Troubles Will be Out of Sight" {Part Two}
I know there is a saying about Christmas in July, but here you have a bit of Christmas in June. I can't help but apologize again to my @cssecretsanta2025 giftee @cocohook38 for the delay once again, but I hope you are still with me and will enjoy this new update. There's one more and then a short epilogue after this, so I am truly getting close at last. For anyone else still reading and following this, I thank you for you patience too and hope you'll enjoy this as well.
Summary: Tragedy brings Killian Jones into Emma Swan and her son Henry's lives, but at first she may be too closed off to accept the help he wishes to offer. Much stands in the way, but her son's belief, a stubborn, caring man, and perhaps just a pinch of healing Christmas magic, may help them all muddle through into a brighter New Year.
If you need a refresher, the Prologue of this story can be found HERE, or HERE on AO3.
Part Two: In the Bleak Midwinter
Three Weeks Later
If anyone had asked her, Emma wouldn’t have claimed to have found her way yet; she honestly still felt as if some days were spent in a surreal haze. But she was finding her footing and kept putting one of them in front of the other, so she counted that a small victory in itself. Somehow, everything kept going on around them much as it always had, and so she had squared her shoulders and soldiered on - just as she had done all the previous times life had knocked her down.
She had managed to tell Henry about his Papa Graham’s death, and they had cried together. They’d held each other’s hands tightly at the funeral, two against the world now instead of three, and she’d tenderly wiped away his tears and reminded him that it was okay to be sad and to grieve; he had loved Graham, and Graham had loved him, and he never had to forget that. She tried not to dwell on the fact that all her own tears seemed to have frozen inside her since that first night at the hospital, and that - except for the mornings and evenings when Henry was with her at home from school - it felt as if the empty chill in her chest was spreading through the rest of her body, sinking into sinew and bone.
For Henry’s sake, Emma tried to make life as normal as possible. Never would she want him to feel he had to bottle up his emotions, or to hide if he was struggling, but she also didn’t want her pain to worry him, or to keep him from healing. Just the previous evening, she had popped popcorn, and they’d watched The Grinch and Frosty in their pjs, not wanting to forego all the things she and her son had always enjoyed together. Still, Emma couldn’t face going to find a tree without Graham. He’d always looked forward to it with such gusto that she had teased him about being a lumberjack woodsman while Henry laughed, and then the two of them would tromp out on their adventure. She would have homemade cocoa waiting for them when they returned with their prize, and they’d string the lights afterwards. Nor could she bear to dig out all the decorations and come face-to-face with Graham’s stocking and those ornaments in their collection he had picked out himself. In truth, it was hard to feel that it was right to celebrate at all - and that was no one’s fault but her own.
So, instead, she had strung some simple white lights up the stairway bannister, gotten Henry a small fiberoptic color-changing tree for his own room that he seemed fascinated with watching as he settled in bed each night, and they had gone out seeking brand new stockings, claiming the old ones were in bad shape, and treating him to hot chocolate after that job instead. Henry hadn’t seemed much phased by the alteration, and she fared much better only having to see the gaily twinkling tree when she bid her son goodnight. She felt nothing even close to the holiday spirit herself.
Dr. Jones - Killian - true to his word, had stayed with Henry that night in the hospital; though they must have seen her go by when she left the room where Graham’s body had lain and looked for her together until finding her in the chapel. He’d accepted her embarrassed apologies without asking for further explanations, and she had been grateful. It was clear Henry had already taken a liking to the man as well. Looking up at him as if they were already old friends, and pulling him into their mournful huddle when Emma had finally broken the awful news.
It had seemed wise, when the hospital recommended and Emma found her insurance would cover it for at least a couple months, to seeking counselling sessions with Killian - particularly since Henry was already comfortable with him. She wasn’t about to put herself on his couch and open up her own cache of trauma, but she wanted to be certain Henry was coping and healing properly, and though she couldn’t fully explain it, even to herself, she trusted Killian Jones in that regard. Henry had seen him for a first session not long after the funeral, and had been to Dr. Jones’ office twice more since then, once a week.
Just then, Henry wasn’t at home. He had gone to the sledding hill at his school with one of his friends. Their family had gladly offered to take him along, and Emma had been relieved to see his excitement bubbling over at the afternoon’s opportunity. Once he’d been properly bundled up and out the door, Emma had devoted a couple hours to researching and tracking down leads for one of her current cases - petty theft and stalking and other such misbehavior took no holiday vacation - she set herself to the task of making something hearty and warm for supper when Henry returned.
She had just checked on the tuna noodle casserole that she was pleasantly and surprisingly pleased with the appearance of (cooking had never been her strongest skill, but she had been giving it a concentrated effort in the last few years and was getting better) when she heard the doorbell ring out in the hall. Emma closed the oven door, reset the timer, and headed that way calling out to the unknown visitor that she was coming. It seemed too early for Henry yet, so she was curious just who she might find on the other side of the door.
Peering through the peephole, Emma saw that Killian Jones waited patiently in the second floor hallway, and though she couldn’t figure why he was there, she had no qualms in opening the door to greet him.
When she swung the door open, Killian smiled warmly, nodding his head slightly to acknowledge her hello. She could see that something was on his mind though, as the easy good humor of his usual smile didn’t stretch across his face, some unspoken concern evident in his eyes. Even as she beckoned him further into the hall, Emma felt a weight in her chest wondering what could be wrong.
Shrugging a bit uncertainly, she attempted a bit of a playful half-smile, trying to either gloss over or alleviate the anxious energy present between them. “Not that I’m not happy to see you,” she tried lightly, “but I hope you haven’t come to make a house call. Henry isn’t here.”
Killian managed a light huff of laughter at her weak joke, but was already shaking his head ‘no’, making clear that his concern was elsewhere. “No lass, I was hoping to speak to you. Henry told me of his sledding adventure, and I picked this afternoon with that in mind.”
Emma’s brow furrowed with confusion, “You did?”
Jones still seemed unnecessarily discomfited, dipping his head for a moment to study his scuffed boots and the color pattern of her carpet before releasing a sigh and seeming to square his shoulders. When he raised his face to meet hers once more, Emma was pinned where she stood, unable to move or look away, her breath suddenly caught in her throat. A sort of knowing skittered down her spine at the conflicting emotion in those blue depths; she wasn’t going to like what he had to say, that must be why he was so reluctant, and yet he seemed determined to speak regardless.
Opening her mouth in an attempt to stop whatever he was attempting, Emma shook her head but couldn’t force out anything audible.
To his credit, Killian Jones was a better shrink than any Emma had encountered in her youth, and he read exactly what she was trying to do as if it were printed across her face. “Aye, I did,” he exhaled, and then ploughed forward, needing to get it all out before he could rethink the action or she could interrupt. “I felt compelled to discuss my concerns with you after seeing Henry for a third visit. I hope you know, I don’t say any of this to upset you, Swan. It’s clear you care very much for your boy and want what is best for him, but…” he wet his lips, pausing for a moment to draw courage before continuing, “I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t share that it seems Henry still feels under a pall. He opened up that he misses your usual live tree in the living room, and other yearly traditions. He also admitted that he hesitates to fully celebrate this Christmas, because he knows you are unhappy.”
Emma blinked rapidly as she stumbled back to lean against the kitchen island. Though Jones said he didn’t intend any affront, it was impossible not to go on immediate defense. Crossing her arms tightly across her chest like a shield, Emma knew the sharp pitch to her voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t help it. It stung thinking that she hadn’t been as careful, as convincing as she had thought, and that Henry had been worried by it. Her knee-jerk reaction was to lash out, and to flounder for a convincing argument that this man who had known them mere weeks must be mistaken. “What do you mean he can’t celebrate?! We’ve hung stockings and watched Frosty. He loves his new tree - it’s in his room!! Wouldn’t I know if he were missing something else? If he’s still feeling down, isn’t that to be expected? Graham hasn’t even been gone a month! You don’t need to dig up problems under the surface!”
Killian looked down again, biting back a quick retort as if trying to rein in his temper. It made Emma’s rising frustration even more volatile. “Don’t pretend you’re all patient and understanding! You come in here, acting like you know just what I should be doing for my own kid, or that you know what he needs better than I do. You don’t know me, or all that Henry and I have been through together. Three half hour sessions don’t make you the expert on my son!” She was getting worked up now; she could feel it. Yet, there didn’t seem to be a way to bring her emotions back under control. She felt cornered - both angry that he would question her parenting and sinkingly afraid that he might be correct. Henry was sensitive and attuned to others; he could easily have picked up that her heart wasn’t in the holiday, no matter how she had tried to disguise the fact. Her sweet boy would worry over her, along with shouldering his own sadness and loss. He wouldn’t want to ask for something he thought might hurt her. While she was internally castigating herself for not coming to the realization sooner, it only made her upset at the man standing before her grow. She knew, logically, that she wasn’t being fair to him, but logic didn’t have control in the moment.
Those blue eyes were fixed on her once more, looking pained but resolute, as Killian tried to follow her backward steps, even reached out as if to take her hand and attempt to soothe the reaction he had caused. soothe the reaction he’d caused.
But Emma sliced her hand through the air, narrowing her eyes in warning. “Don’t,” she stated firmly, stopping him in his tracks. “Whatever you’re about to say, Doctor,” the emphasis she put on the title was scathing, “save it.” Her face stopped the words on his tongue. He was the one momentarily frozen as she had been before. Her lowered voice hissing, “You’ve done enough,” brought him back into motion, only to flinch from the pain and anger equally clear as it radiated from her hunched form. Before his eyes, the indignance that she’d held herself up with dissipated. The fire that she’d spat at him moments ago extinguished, and she shrank inward with it right before his eyes.
When he could catch his breath, Killian couldn’t help but fire back. He’d only been thinking of the young man who had already burrowed into his heart, but if this was how his concern was met, he was wrong to have tried. “Pardon me for thinking I could be of help,” he growled, words wrung from his throat grudgingly. “You may think I cannot possibly understand, but you don’t really know me either, Miss Swan. As it turns out, I’m actually quite perceptive… and your boy is hurting.”
As she shook her head that time, it seemed more like a frantic denial. No more words were said, as they both panted, trying to put their protective walls back in place. To see tears streaming down her cheeks pierced right through his defenses again, more than it had any right to.
Seeing, at least in the moment, that there was nothing else he could say or do, Killian bowed his head, admitting defeat. “I’ll see myself out,” he murmured.
And when the door clicked closed behind him, Emma finally discovered that her tears had not yet run dry.
~~*~~
Killian found himself aimlessly walking the city streets for some time that evening. After leaving Emma’s place, he was too worked up to go home and sit alone, reading or watching television as he usually did. He had nowhere to be, but perhaps he could burn off his excess energy and tame his ricocheting thoughts. The lights strung up in store windows and along the sidewalks twinkled merrily, but none seemed to glisten as brightly as the silent tears on Emma Swan’s face in his mind’s eye - tears that came in response to his words.
He still didn’t think he had been in the wrong as a counseling professional, and simply as an adult who cared about him, Killian had needed to share his concerns over Henry’s mindset with his mother. There had been the distinct possibility that his words would not go over well, but it had seemed what he had to do all the same.
Nevertheless, he had caused hurt - intentional or not. As he had seen the emotions flash across Emma Swan’s face, it had suddenly driven home to him a deeper layer he had not realized. She spoke up with a show of anger, claiming offense that he would question her parenting or wonder if Henry were missing something, but beneath that outward reaction, and under the obvious layer of grief and sadness, he recognized something else, an emotion he’d glimpsed in her once before, but dismissed as improbable and all in his imagination. If he’d had to label it, he’d called it guilt. Still, just as before, that hardly made sense. Could she be blaming herself for the loss of her love somehow? Why would she? And, if so, was the poor woman punishing herself, feeling she should not be allowed to move on and find happiness again?
Though she was clearly not about to open up to him anytime soon, Killian Jones had already long since deduced that Emma Swan was a woman of strong self-sufficiency who had clearly been made a survivor by Fate’s often capricious vagaries. Her mistrust of his chosen profession was also telegraphed in her so clearly she might as well have said it out loud. He might not know the details of her history - as she had so forcefully reminded him - but he could not help but wish for the ability to help, and that she would let him. That glimpse of pain and guilt had brought him new focus and understanding; his goal now clear. There would be little healing under bitter self-condemnation… and whether she now wanted anything to do with him or his advice, Killian knew all too well how misplaced blame weighed a person down. For the sake of his young charge, and his mother, he could find a way.
As he was pondering all this, Killian noticed that he stood outside a small shop still open despite the later hour; an old fashioned looking shop of decor and handicraft items. His feet had turned to enter almost before his mind gave signal to do so. A bell chimed over the door as he stepped inside, while cinnamon and cloves pleasantly invaded his senses. His lips twitched upwards despite the deep thoughts engrossing his attention, and he gladly gave into the full smile and the warmth spreading in his chest at the friendly greeting offered by the gray-haired woman at the register who looked up over her glasses to greet him upon his arrival.
He assured her he was merely browsing and began to meander the crowded but charming aisles, drawn to all the engaging and unique items filling every available nook and cranny, even if he wasn’t yet sure exactly what had so definitely pulled him to this place in particular. Each new display he encountered was delightful and entertaining, catching the eye in a simple but irresistible manner.
Killian turned the corner into the final row, toward the back of the small shop, where a fully decked Christmas tree was lit and stood shimmering in all its finery from a cozy alcove, when he saw it. The very thing he needed without even knowing it was what he’d been seeking. The perfect gift to present as a peace offering the next time he saw Emma Swan - if she would accept it from him at all. Dangling from an upper branch, delicately catching the lights and sending dazzling rainbowed reflections out across the room, was a crystal swan, as graceful and lovely as Henry’s mum, in spite of the woman’s added fierceness.
Reaching up to remove the fragile ornament from its perch, Killian was momentarily taken back to the brightly lit, small but well-loved cottage of his youth. He could see his own mother beaming at him as they’d decorated a tree together while the snow fell heavily outside. He had not known it then as he’d sat curled beside her on the sofa with hot apple cider and snickerdoodle cookies while admiring their handiwork, but he was not meant to have many more Christmases with her. It would be years before he could properly navigate his own anger and grief at how quickly sickness had taken her and left Killian and his older brother alone in the world; even longer before he could fully appreciate the prophetic wisdom of the words she had whispered to him that night in the golden glow of that fragrant spruce tree. “Enjoy the moments like this one, my Killy.” The love in her eyes made his younger self feel like the most important person in the entire world, so much so that he didn’t even mind her use of the nickname he had recently begun to find rather childish. She’d ruffled his dark hair that matched her own with tender fingers as she continued, “We must make the most of the good times we are given in this life; they can be fleeting and far between, but they make all the rest of it worth the struggle.”
The memory faded away, back into the haze of his past, as Killian cradled the small object in his hand and moved back to the front to purchase the swan. He thanked the shopkeeper genuinely, complimenting her lovely collection, and she winked playfully in response, almost as if she bore some sort of Mrs. Claus magic or perhaps just a hint of extra knowing, “Thank you, Dear. You come back anytime. We aim to have just the thing a person needs.”
A bit dumbfounded, Killian nodded his agreement and walked a bit dazedly out of the store, clutching the bag that contained his purchase tightly… like the rare gift that it was. He felt rejuvenated, back on course. He would at least have the opportunity to see Henry again, and he now had an offering as well, to go with a sincere apology for any offense he might have caused despite his noble intentions. If nothing else, he would have one more chance to help Emma Swan see that she deserved a second chance at happiness - and that a person had to live and enjoy the time he or she does have.
Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssecretsanta2020 @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose
Back again! And this time we're bring in some angst
Sneak Peek
We’re all here for you whenever you need us. You’re special to us, Pen,” he says as he spins her gently. When he pulls her back to him, Penelope thinks that he’s pulling her closer too. Colin speaks again and his voice is laced with an emotion she can’t quite name. “You’re special to me.”
The butterflies in her stomach flap so wildly she thinks they might take her off the ground entirely. “You’re special to me too, Colin.”
Eventually, the dance ends, and Colin’s words stay with her, leaving her drifting through the night on cloud nine. He told her that she was special to him. Him! Not just his family! He actually went out of his way to clarify that, that has to mean something.
She really hopes that it means something to him, because it really does mean everything to her.
Later on in the night, the reception rages on, but Colin isn’t in the room anymore. Penelope wanders around the venue, trying to find him. She wants to spend more time with him. For the first time in her life, the idea that Colin might actually love her back doesn’t seem impossible, it doesn’t seem laughable, and it’s not as if she wants to confess her undying love for him. Not yet, anyways. What she does want is to search for any more signs that he might feel the same way.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Colin’s annoyed groan rings out, Penelope follows it to find him with his brothers in the garden. She should leave, this could be a private conversation and he’s clearly already irritated, but her curiosity ends up overpowering her rational thoughts and she finds herself hiding just out of sight. “Would you both just shut up already?”
“We’re just saying, Penelope did catch the bouquet,” Benedict says, his voice the definition of smug. “You know what that means.”
“That’s just a stupid myth,” Colin snaps. “And even if it were true, that doesn’t mean I would be the one marrying her.”
“You never know, anything could happen in the future,” Anthony joins in with an identical tone to Ben.
“Penelope’s my best friend, I’m not marrying her, guys,” Colin tells them flatly.
… Okay, well that’s not really the sign she was hoping for.
I love your Cinderella story so much! I’m so excited to see what happens next!!
ahhhh thank you so much!! Honestly this message made my day :))
Can confirm that I am working on the next chapter of the Cinderella story as we speak and am very close to finishing it! Just writing the last scene and then I need to go back and do some edits but it should be up very soon hopefully!
In the meantime, I'll leave you with a little sneak peek of what's to come!
“Pen, I- I have never experienced a kiss like that before, one that felt so- so right. And I just know that the reason that that kiss was so wonderful was because it was with you. There is something special here, and I think it would be a grave injustice to both of us to not let it grow.”
Penelope sighed, because now, she knew exactly what had happened. “Would you like to know what I think?”
“Of course.”
“I think,” Penelope began carefully, hesitating as she went over her own words in her head. “I think that last night was- It was something of a fantasy. The palace, the ballroom, the dancing, the gardens- everything was truly magical. And that kiss… it happened inside of the magic.”
The frown that appeared on Colin’s face was instant and tinged with fear. “What are you saying, Penelope?”
“I am saying that I am your dearest friend,” she began to explain, though it did nothing to soften his expression. “And because I mean so much to you and something so intimate happened between us in such a fantastical setting- I do not think you are lying to me about your feelings, but I also do not think that they are coming from the right place.”
Colin stared at her for a moment. “If I may offer a counter argument?”
Penelope nodded hesitantly. “If you wish to."
And then he took her face in his hands and kissed her.
Full story here in case anyone would like to read!
New chapter of my bouquet toss fic is up, and if you'd like to know how angsty it's going to be, just know that a friend who read over the chapter left a comment on the doc and said "i think if you stabbed me continuously with a blunt knife it would be less painful than this."
It's all heading towards a happy ending though!
Sneak peek
“I’ve caught the bouquet plenty of times before, I caught it at your wedding, but here we are, two weddings later, and I’m very much not on my way to getting married.”
“That’s true, but this is your first time catching the bouquet while you have a long term boyfriend,” she points out.
The fact makes her heart race, though she’s not entirely sure it’s for all the right reasons. It’s true, she and Alfred had been together for a while now. They’d met at a work event and things just sort of… progressed from there, really. It was all quite smooth, the transition from first date, to official relationship to living together. It’s not quite been the whirlwind romance Penelope’s always thought she would have, but that’s not a bad thing. This is how relationships should be. Steady. Easy. It doesn’t matter that it’s not what Penelope expected, Alfie is dependable, he’s someone she can always rely on, and that’s more than can be said for-
No, she’s not making this about him. Not again.
“Daphne has a point,” Kate joins in, that same teasing smile on her lips too. “You and Alfie have been together for a couple of years now, you think he might pop the question anytime soon?”
Penelope ignores the swoop in her stomach, the one that feels dangerously close to dread, as she replies, “I don’t know. We’ve talked about it before, a few times here and there but… Yeah. I don’t know how close a proposal is..”
“Maybe he’s planning a proposal as we speak,” Edwina grins, and Penelope feels her heart speed up again, but not in a way that feels as good as she thinks it’s supposed to feel. “You could be the next one to get married, yours and Alfie’s wedding really could be the next one that we go to.”
She wants to smile, she’s supposed to smile, so why does she want to grimace so badly? “Well-”
“Nope,” Colin’s hard voice cuts her off. She blinks at him, trying to make sense of his bitter, almost angry, expression. There’s something else there as well, she thinks, she just has no idea what it is. “There’s no way Pen and Alfie are ever getting married. That’s not happening.”
New chapter! Time to see what happens after the cluster of angst that was the last chapter lol
Sneak Peek
It goes the way it always seems to. The bride, Edwina this time, throws the bouquet, Penelope stays towards the back to give other people a chance to catch it, and then she somehow manages to catch it anyways. People stare at her, Cressida gives her a death glare that she’s basically numb to at this point, and then Penelope sits down. She prepares herself to be teased, to be asked if she thinks this will be the time when the myth comes true (she knows it won’t), but before any of that can happen, Colin walks up to her with determination aflame in his eyes. Anticipation and dread swoop in her stomach in equal measures.
“I need to talk to you,” he says and then hesitates, softening slightly. “I mean, if you would be okay with it, please could we talk, Penelope?”
Penelope bites her lip, it’s not that she doesn’t want to at all (she thinks there might always be a part of her that wants to be with Colin, no matter what), but, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Colin.”
“Please, Pen,” he pleads, his eyes piercing into her.
She can feel the urgency rolling off of him in waves, and it cracks something in Penelope’s defences, so of course she says, “okay, let’s talk.”
He holds her hand and takes her to an empty room, never letting her go until the door is shut behind them. Penelope begrudges the way she still likes the feel of her hand in his, how she misses it when he lets go.
“I… I owe you an apology,” he begins, running a hand through his hair. “For a lot of things, really. I’ve taken you for granted, I haven’t appreciated your friendship the way I should have, I’ve- I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to us, and the one that I never really apologised for- not properly, at least- was what happened at Phillipa’s wedding.”
