Emma wanders into the path of a weird curse or eats something she shouldn’t or picks up an artefact she wasn’t supposed to touch (Regina did warn her!) and suddenly every time she settles in to, ahem, ring the devil’s doorbell… he answers.
So I wrote the thing and am sharing it now for @cscocktoberfest – I hope I’ve done you proud Svenja. This is more banter and innuendo with a sprinkle of smut, but I hope you all like it. (And I’ve got another Cocktoberfest fic to come next Wednesday!)
Thanks @initiala for organising this event, which gave me the nerve to actually post this. Cheers for reading this over for me @mahstatins and danke schön @distant-rose and @welllpthisishappening for chanting “post it!” at me 😉
Emma Swan was having a day. Or maybe a week.
Possibly even a lifetime. It was one thing to discover after 28 years that she
wasn’t actually an orphan but a bona fide witch from outstanding magical
pedigree, it was quite another to find herself expected to do something about
it and take flipping magic lessons. Especially when her teacher was her sassy
step grandmother who expected nothing less than total dedication at all times.
Only today she had found her mind and her hands wandering resulting in such a sharp
reprimand that she was almost glad that her entire family had been separated
from her by a curse for her entire formative years.
(And, OK, maybe it was better not to
touch strange magical artifacts that she had no knowledge or understanding of,
but surely Regina didn’t have anything actually dangerous in that vault
of hers.. Right?)
Still though, the incident had left her feeling
frustrated and full of pent-up nervous energy that she desperately needed to
relieve. And what better way than with a little TLC?
Here be a smutty bit of canon divergence, set in season 4. Unbeta’d so we’ll see if I remember how this whole thing works. Title taken from a Dusty Springfield song.
When they had finally broken apart, their hearts were
thundering in their ears. The desperation of their kiss had been so
all-consuming Emma Swan was surprised neither of them had caught fire. A
cursory glance at Killian Jones told her he hadn’t given up that particular
goal. Of course his baseline was intense smoulder, so she expected nothing
less.
Ah, so here we go again on our third trip. We must really like this ride! This third part is for every person who commented, reblogged, or messaged me that they absolutely had to see what happened when these two got back to Boston! You guys are all enablers, and it’s wonderful!
My brain most definitely wouldn’t let me write anything else until I finished this!
The prompt for the original story can be found | here |
Part one on Tumblr can be found | here | and part two | here |
All three parts together can be found on ao3 | here |
When Emma wakes up in the morning it’s to her phone ringing,
the shrill sound of the ringtone making her want to toss it across the room.
It’s that thought that has her really
waking up and realizing exactly what room she’s in, and oh wow she really did
sleep with the guy…no with Killian, and she really did stay with him throughout
the night. Two years ago, a one night stand couldn’t even get her to stay while
he was throwing away the condom, but she stayed the entire night. Hell, she
wasn’t even the slightest bit drunk when it happened, the alcohol from dinner
having completely worn off. She didn’t do it to scratch an itch. She did it
because she wanted to, because she likes him, and that might scare her more
than anything.
She doesn’t think anyone is equipped to ride her emotional
rollercoaster.
She’s got to stop with the puns. She’s really going off the tracks…nope,
her mind has to stop. This is insane. Has she completely lost it? Is there a
history of people losing their minds and suddenly only speaking in puns?
Summary: She’s the English teacher. He’s the Math teacher. One afternoon in the teacher’s lounge, they become students of one another’s anatomy.
A/N: Another contribution for @cscocktoberfest. Thank you to all those who twisted my arm encouraged me to write a fic to accompany my September CS AU aesthetic. I hope it meets expectations! Much love to the fabulous @ilovemesomekillianjones for her awesome beta skills, and to my ladies @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, and @artistic-writer for enduring my whining and complaining.
Rated M (it’s cocktober, people…) / ~3700 words / Also available on ao3 and ff.net
Killian tapped his pencil impatiently against the table in front of him. The jitters of excited anticipation coursed through him as they always did on the first day of a new school year, despite the early hour required of all the returning teachers. Every year Principal Mills insisted on a staff meeting prior to the first bell, and this year was no exception. While he waited for the stragglers to file in so her majesty could commence with the standard greeting, expectations, and general arm twisting in recruiting advisors for as yet unassigned clubs and organizations, Killian sipped his coffee and perused the teacher’s lounge.
Nothing much had changed over the summer months. Same walls splashed with the school colors. Same large conference table, already adorned with fall decorations despite the sweltering heat still plaguing their little hamlet. The coffee maker was new, thank the gods, but that was the only change the room seemed to have undergone. Same chairs, same motivational posters, same sofa. Killian shifted in his chair as his thoughts took a hard (in more ways than one) turn at the memories the lounge sofa evoked. Memories of Emma Swan riding him into oblivion on the last day of school, right there in the teacher’s lounge during their final planning period together.
Emma Swan.
Storybrooke High’s most beloved English teacher, and the woman who had turned Killian’s entire world upside down when she’d join the staff three years ago. The woman currently sneaking through the door, her standard tendency to always run several minutes late, while trying to avoid detection from Principal Mills, who’d apparently started their meeting whilst Killian had been daydreaming.
A blush rushed up his neck at the realization that he’d been fantasizing to the point of discomfort in a room full of his colleagues, and the source of his infatuation. When her eyes met his from across the room, he could feel the flustered heat sweep across his face up to his ears, but he offered her a friendly smile; one she hesitantly returned, the sight of which made his heart flutter.
Killian heard little of what Principal Mills was saying. It was most likely the same speech she’d given to the faculty every year before, so he didn’t feel too guilty about not listening; instead choosing to return to the indulgence of visiting that afternoon forever seared in his memory.
They’d been dancing around their attraction for one another all year long. Sharing the same planning period, and being the only two faculty members to make use of the teachers’ lounge during their free hour had given them nine months of bantering, flirting, talking, and eye fucking. It was only a matter of time before the powder keg of sexual tension ignited, though neither of them had expected it to happen in the lounge of all places.
Summary: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, runs. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.
Rated: M (Sexual content in later chapters & some Irish whiskey along the way).
AN: I have to start by thanking @sambethe for encouraging my second CSBB try, without your message I don’t know if I would have ever found the courage to attempt this again. @imagnifika your art has made me smile more than you’ll know, thank you for bringing this story to life. @shippingtheswann Samantha! I couldn’t have asked for a better beta! Your kind words kept me going when I needed them most. And @halobxist & @meanderingcaptainswanmusings there would be no fic without you two. Thank you for everything. And finally but not in the least, thanks to all that are running @captainswanbigbang and everyone involved. What an amazing, talented, lovely crew. So happy to be apart of this. Go check out all the fantastic stories and art that have been created for you!
Ok, ok!! It’s finally time! Come to take a trip to Ireland with me 🙂
Beauty in the Aftermath – Chapter 1
“Granny, I got one for you,” Emma calls out from her spot at the counter. She swivels on the stool, pausing a moment to glance outside. Steely coloured clouds hang low in the sky, threats of a storm looming close. The occasional fat raindrop dampens the empty sidewalk, keeping the locals inside their homes, leaving the diner quiet for the afternoon.
Emma spins back to face the kitchen doors and waits patiently for the woman everyone in town calls Granny to emerge. This is a regular game they play, and she knows the older woman is never able to resist.
They’re in a rut. That’s what Deputy Emma Swan tells herself over and over again as her boyfriend, Killian Jones, grows more and more distant, and more frustrated, due to complications with his dissertation research on tornado formation. But storm season’s more than halfway over and this dry spell is doing nothing to make things easier for him–or their relationship. Will everything blow over, or is there a greater storm on the horizon?
Rating: E
Content warnings:
Graphic depictions of injury resulting from natural disasters, minor character death
Thank you a million times over to @optomisticgirl for making all the banners and art, to @spartanguard for beta’ing and cheerleading and generally listening to me whine, and to @idoltina for literally listening to me yammer on about this for the last two years while I didn’t actually write more than half a chapter of it in all of that time.
This is also on AO3 or FF.Netif that’s how you wanna roll.
The air in her bedroom felt heavy and damp, but Emma Swan wasn’t letting a warm spring night like this get away from her. Too often growing up, she had spent time arguing with her adoptive mother Ingrid about the thermostat and even though she hadn’t lived with Ingrid for almost three years, Emma still thought the best thing about having her own place was control of her own environment. Summer and its brutal temperatures would be here soon enough and she and everyone else would then close themselves up in their air conditioning.
(“Fishers are practically immune to the cold,” Ingrid would say, with the thermostat set at 68 in April. “I’m not actually a Fisher, Mom,” Emma would argue right back, bundled up in a hoodie and jeans even though it was 80 outside.)
No, tonight Emma planned on reading until she fell asleep, lulled by the smell of an incoming spring storm and the roll of thunder off in the distance.
Besides, she knew her boyfriend didn’t mind it in the least.
Summary : In a time of political unrest, two souls find each other. A Tale of war, danger, espionage and love. contains Irish Swan trio chapters. Inspired by the movie Head in the Clouds.
Smut ahoy! Definitely NSFW. Marginally set in my The Princess Training Diaries universe, but you don’t have to read that piece. Basically, Pan was actually defeated in Neverland; Killian and Emma love their kink; and Killian is a product of True Love and has magic of his own. Enjoy!
Notes: Hi internet. I…um….I wrote porn. That’s the only way I can describe this. It’s just porn. No plot. Just straight up silly, slightly sentimental, married but totally in love Captain Swan porn. How did this happen? Well, I’m just blaming @initiala for this. It’s easier that way, especially this is a part of the @cscocktoberfest extravaganza. Special thank you to @optomisticgirl and @adira-tyree for listening to me whine about how terrible I am at smut writing. I couldn’t have done it without either of you. Special shout-out to Daniel for being cool about this nonsense and making me laugh and being the coolest about me writing about fictional characters banging and even using the phrase “Killian’s thundercock.” I will never be over it. You’re literally the best. Summary: Emma hates mornings. Killian loves them. Normally, he’s good about it, allowing her to sleep in to her hearts content. Though sometimes, he isn’t so mindful but rather insistent on changing her opinions on mornings. Word Count: 2,500+ Rating: E
Emma Swan was not a morning person. In fact, she resented the very concept of mornings. Sleep had been an elusive throughout her life so she treasured it whenever she got it. She would laze for hours if she could get away with it, snuggled into her pillows and buried under layers upon layers of blankets. The very thought of waking up to the world, of leaving the warmth and comfort of her bed, was abhorrent and often those who woke her often ended up with a pillow to the face.
Including her husband…especially her husband.
Where Emma loathed mornings and was incapable of normal human interaction without a shower and at least three cups of coffee, Killian loved them. He had zero qualms with kicking off the bedclothes and starting bright and early. He was always inhumanly alert and up for anything. It stunned her that he was actually capable of forming complete sentences from the second he woke up.
His early morning energy was irritating but more often than not, he was a conscientious and courteous bedfellow. He was capable of being quiet and moving out of the bed carefully enough that she could ignore him and continue sleeping. More often than not, she would roll onto his unoccupied side of the bed, soaking in the heat left behind in sheets and continuing to doze throughout the morning while he showered and shaved. He would give her an hour or two to herself before chiding her gently and placing a cup of coffee under her nose in order to coax her out of bed without any bloodshed.
However, there were also mornings where he wasn’t so mindful but insistent on coming between her and her sleep.
He often liked to claim that she needed to reevaluate her opinions on mornings and he was only trying to help her get a new perspective on them. He would roll her over and kiss her while she was barely coherent, ignoring her protests of morning breath and snarled hair. An uncoordinated but hard kick was often enough to keep him at bay and reclaim her place in dream land but sometimes she humored him.
It All Starts With a Dance 