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.
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.
Summary: My take on what happens the night Henry is at Avery’s in “New York City Serenade.”
Notes: My first time writing smut! Thanks to my beta @shireness-says, who has been an amazing cheerleader and who helped me beat this fic into shape. Thanks also to @cocktoberfest for giving me the opportunity to a) write smut b) post anonymously. Hope you’ll enjoy!
The tumblers of rum landed with a faint click on the coffee table as Emma set them down, wondering whether she should get coasters (though when she had become a person who not only owned coasters, but used them, she had no idea. A curse indeed).
Hook was finishing up in the bathroom after she had invited him to stay for the night. He’d have to leave before Henry’s return the next morning, but the least she could do was offer him a place to wash off the grime from the jail she had sent him to and a warm bed for the night. Or, well, a warm couch, she amended in her mind.
The door of the bathroom opened, letting out a waft of warm scented air. Emma turned around, expecting to see the pirate in the sweatpants and henley she had lent him. She froze, however, when she caught sight of Hook; while she had prepared herself for the sight of him in modern clothes, this was… something else. While he was wearing the sweatpants, he had put his pirate shirt back on; with his vest always on, she had never noticed in Neverland how sheer it actually was, and how deeply the neckline cut.
Well, she was certainly noticing it now. And she was also noticing how strangely adorable he looked, with his bare feet and leather garments clutched in his arms. Without all his leather, she could see how slender he was. Gone was Captain Hook, and in his place stood Killian Jones, shuffling awkwardly in his jammies.
Tearing her eyes from his chest with difficulty, Emma looked up at the man’s face, only to see him already watching her, an eyebrow raised and his mouth curved into a slight smirk. Ah, no, there was Hook.
HI CSers! Uh, long time no see. Here’s my very very humble but heartfelt contribution for today’s posting date, October 14th’s @cscocktoberfest !
A very belated piece of illustration inspired by @optomisticgirl ’s fic Take Me To Church, chapter 9 where the good man finally snaps. Also a long overdue apology to @phiralovesloki. I hope everyone enjoys it.
It All Starts With a Dance 