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mable-stitchpunk · 2 years ago

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Going Home in a Box: Chapter 64- Teaser

“I’ve got to be honest, this doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Mike said. In a surprising twist, he was playing the voice of reason for once.

Of course, he was currently driving towards the Pizzaplex with a car full of animatronics, so he knew good and well it was too late to even pretend that he was the reasonable one.

“Oh, it’s not,” Marionette agreed. “But I don’t see how it is possible that it can be any worse than last time.”

Foxy and Charlie agreed from the backseat.

“And by that I mean: under no circumstances will this end up like last time,” Marionette clarified.

The grumble and hum of agreement responded again.

“Because if it does, I am throwing whoever is the cause of it directly into the nearest dumpster to make an example out of them.”

“I would’ve loved to see you wrestle Ennard into a dumpster,” Mike said off-handedly as he turned off the highway.

“Yer just built like that Schmidt,” Foxy scoffed.

“I get my kicks on route six-six-six,” Mike replied. “Speaking of hell, we’re here.”

“Not counting the thirty minutes it takes to get inside,” Charlie quipped.

“Nah, we’re gonna be halfin’ that. Freddy’s got us on a tight schedule, and we got a double birthday before lunch. We’re going to be leggin’ it less we want to spend our whole time walkin’,” Foxy explained. He shifted his legs in the tight confines of the space behind the passenger seat, Marionette already scooted up as far as he could go. “Let that be yer warnin’ that if ya guys get distracted with Jake ‘er Sun, ‘er whoever, I be leavin’ you.”

“And what happens when Freddy gets distracted with Sun?” Marionette playfully asked. Pulling down the passenger mirror and peeking into the back with it.

“Then I’m grabbin’ the boy and leavin’ ‘em both,” Foxy said. As unamused as he sounded, everyone in that car knew he wasn’t kidding.

They pulled up towards the back of the Pizzaplex, further down past Natalie’s car and closer to the back entrance where they would be heading in. They got out of the car and hastily hurried around back to the exit door and found it propped open.

Foxy led the way into the loading docks where Freddy and Gregory were waiting. The bear anxiously pacing around while the boy spun back and forth in the office chair behind the loading dock controller desk. Then the doors opened, and Freddy looked up to see Foxy sauntering in, tossing his arms open in a silent proclamation of his arrival. Freddy perked up with his eyes glowing with excitement.

“Foxy, you came back!” Freddy cried. Then he lunged.

“Ya couldn’t keep me aw- Omph!” Foxy was cut off by Freddy misreading his gesture and taking him into a big hug. It would’ve knocked the air out of his lungs if he still had them. After a second he recovered enough to chuckle and pat Freddy’s back.

“I missed you so much!” Freddy finally drew back but kept his hands on Foxy’s shoulders. His mouth open in an excited grin.

“Blimey, Freddy. It’s only been a few weeks,” Foxy pointed out. His voice low in a mixture of confuse and concern.

“It has been a long few weeks,” Freddy answered. His eyes briefly giving away a melancholy look, only for him to quickly cover it back up. “But now that you are here, are you ready for the raddest night of your life?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Foxy proclaimed. He pointed his hook back. “Yar, I brought them too.”

Mike, Charlie, and Marionette greeted Freddy with two “Hey”s and an “Good evening”.

“Hey, guys!” Gregory chimed up.

“Ahoy, Lad!” Foxy greeted.

Mike walked up and tussled his hair. “How’re you doing, Kid? Staying out of trouble?” he asked.

“Kind of. Nobody’s caught me yet,” Gregory answered.

“That’s how you do it. You keep that up and you’ll be set for life.”

“Mike,” Freddy lightly disagreed.

“He knows I’m kidding,” Mike said, sending Gregory a playful wink. The boy smiled back, apparently won over by the ‘cool’ display.

“He knows you’re not kidding,” Marionette retorted. Gliding up beside him before smiling down at Gregory. “Nice to see you again, Gregory. I like your shirt!”

“Thanks! Freddy got it for me,” Gregory replied.

He pulled it out so it could be seen better. It was another Freddy shirt, but this one didn’t have Freddy himself but instead crisscross claw marks and a microphone, with a cursive autograph-grade ‘Freddy Fazbear’ in the corner. It was deep navy in color. Though the shirt wasn’t the only noticeable thing. Gregory seemed generally more put together, with brushed out- but still naturally tussled- hair and a face clean of band aids and lacking the sunken in marks that used to be prominent under his eyes.

Both Foxy and Marionette easily recognized the signs of a neglected child. Seeing those signs start to disappear off Gregory were both noticeable and filled them with joy.

Freddy perked up happily at Gregory’s showing off the shirt, then turned his attention to Charlie.

“Speaking of cool digs- Charlie, I notice your jacket! It is very cool. Did you get it for your birthday?”

“I did! It’s brand new,” Charlie said. Stretching out her arms to show it off.

“It’s a high-grade costume with everyday wearability. We had the ones who made Foxy’s coat make it,” Marionette explained proudly.

Both Freddy and Gregory looked at Foxy’s hoodie.

“Not this! Me pirate’s coat! The one back at the pizzeria,” Foxy interjected with a half-chuckle.

“Oh! Of course!” Freddy said. “It IS a good quality hoodie though.”

“Hasn’t died on me yet,” Foxy replied.

“Only smells like it has,” Mike quipped with a grin.

“That’s because of you-!”

“Hey Charlie, did you get our gift?” Gregory asked, ignoring the upcoming battle he had inadvertently cut off.

“I did, and I love it! I’ve got it set up on my nightstand and it makes for an incredible nightlight,” Charlie said thankfully.

“Gregory, we should get one for you! That way you will have a nightlight during the hourly recharge,” Freddy suggested. Gregory got a somewhat embarrassed look at this.

“Okay! But only because it’s cool, not because I need it. I’m not scared of the dark or anything,” he amended.

“I’m not either. I just like to leave a light on,” Charlie agreed to assure him.

“Usually, we keep the hall light on to see. There’s a difference between being scared of the dark and being scared you’re going to trip over something walking to the bathroom and chip a tooth,” Mike added on.

The mix of both statements making Gregory a little less self-conscious. The group started to make their way out of the loading docks and towards the elevator.

While on their way in, Charlie reached out to Jake through her radio.

“Jake, are you there?”

“Hey, welcome back! I heard you have a hot date up in the Fazcade,” Jake greeted with a cheery pep to his voice.

“Oh yeah? What’s it like?”

“I can’t tell you… That is, if I tell you, it will ruin the surprise. You just have to see it for yourself!”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be,” Charlie replied jokingly. “Then I guess I can’t tell you how far I’ve gotten putting together your gift.”

“Uh oh. I didn’t foresee this possibility,” Jake replied. “Guess I’m going to have to bribe you with information.”

“Give me a hint and you’ll get the goods.”

“Okay, let’s see… Well, first off: If you’re expecting the West Arcade to look anything like the East Arcade, it doesn’t. Expect a lot of stairs.”

“In this place? I already do,” Charlie joked. “So, I’ve gotten the chest section together. The frame, I mean, but I haven’t even started on the wiring-.”

As she was talking with him, falling a little behind to do so, Marionette decided to catch up to Freddy’s side and start his own conversation.

“How is Chica?” he asked.

“She is… managing. I do not know if Foxy told you, but she did not have her voice box replaced. I spoke with the technicians today about replacing it, but they refused.”

“What excuse they give fer that?” Foxy asked.

“They said… due to the fact that her upgrade was such a valuable piece of equipment, and that they are not authorized to replace it with anything else, they will not be replacing it. Not until higher ups tell them to do so.”

“I’m sorry, Freddy,” Marionette apologized remorsefully. Foxy patted his shoulder sympathetically.

Mike was silent. That was the most he could do. Listening from beside them, there was a lot he wanted to say- and a lot that immediately sparked frustration- but venting those feelings wouldn’t exactly help Freddy. Especially when he started venting them himself.

“I do not understand how they can be so callous. I understand the thinking process, to stop this from happening again, but… it is ridiculous to treat us like this. Monty is right, they would not treat human employees like this.”

“Agreed, but if they’re anything like the old Freddy’s they don’t treat the human employees much better. That’s how many of them wound up being the next line of entertainers,” Mike said cryptically. Marionette nodded in agreement.

“Only reason the employees ‘round here got it so good’s ‘cause there ain’t more than a handful of ‘em,” Foxy scoffed.

“You’ve got a point about that. It’s easy to ‘lose track’ of one of hundreds of employees, but if it’s one of ten, you’d think people would ask questions,” Mike agreed.

“Sometimes…” Marionette ominously half-agreed.

“But we are supposed to be part of the new and improved Freddy Fazbear’s! How can they accept that same behavior of the old franchise if we are supposed to be doing better? Safety first, then service. What they are doing to Chica is just pure laziness,” Freddy said. He sighed and then perked up slightly, “But for now, she is at least no longer in Parts and Service. Chica will be at the salon with Roxy tonight, so we will not have to worry about her hearing us. They are having a girls’ night out, but in!”

The conversation lightened up and thinned out as they continued to the elevator and rode up. Then headed out to the atrium and rode an atrium elevator up to the top floor, barely able to squeeze everyone inside.

“There is something I should tell you before we get to the West Arcade. There is a possibility that you may lose me sometime tonight,” Freddy warned.

“What? When’d that happen?” Gregory asked in surprise, turning around and looking up at him. Foxy also looked over in surprise, nearly getting a mouthful of shoulder pad in the process.

“It is true. Regretfully, I will no longer be in control…” Freddy said cryptically. “When I step onto the West Arcade dance floor, I cannot stop myself! It is a programming bug.”

“Ugh, Freddy,” Gregory pouted. Freddy chuckled.

“I have the same bug. I do a mean macarena,” Marionette chimed in. He then proceeded to do a very brief demonstration- one Freddy could barely see over his shoulder and somehow managed to dodge hitting Mike and Charlie in the process.

“Yar, I be partyin’ with a coupla dorks,” Foxy said with some fondness and strode out.

“But all jokes aside, I do have to get in at least five minutes of dancing to stop the irresistible urge to return myself to the dance floor,” Freddy remarked.

Foxy sent him a weird look only to see Freddy smiling, dead serious. He decided to not even question it; it wouldn’t be the worst Fazbear mandated ‘quirk’ he had seen.

Freddy got them through the Party Bot, and they started walking through the entrance hall outside of the Fazcade. When they were suddenly interrupted by a long leg with puffy star-studded pants stepping out from behind a pillar. The rest of the jester body slinking after.

“Gooood eveniiing,” Moon greeted. The wicked grin on his face appropriately matching his tone.

As suddenly as he appeared, nobody was that surprised to see him. At least not beyond a second or two.

“Hey Moon,” Charlie greeted.

“And hello to you too, Jingle Bell,” Moon greeted. His face rolling in a display of fondness that showed Sun just beneath the surface.

“Ahoy,” Foxy also greeted.

Marionette gave a chime and a wave while Mike got a little grin.

“So, have you been waiting for us long or did you beat us up here?” Mike asked cheekily.

“My time is very valuable, Mr. Schmidt.”

There was a pause in anticipation for a further answer, but Moon didn’t give one.

“Did you change your mind?” Freddy offered, finally breaking that silence with a hopeful warmth to his tone.

“I’m afraid not. Here’s the deal for you all to hear,” Moon announced. He tented fingers, made a motion and sound like inhaling, and then began to list off his grievances on his fingers. “No setting off any alerts, no rousing suspicion with any of the Glamrocks, no entering into the Hive Arcade, no annoying the DJ, no climbing over the railing, running down the stairs, riding down the railings, using fake coins, tokens, or any inappropriate coin-shaped objects in any of the machines…”

He paused for dramatic effect, then pointed at Gregory.

“And he is downstairs and in bed before three.”

“What?!” Gregory cried.

“My only offer.”

“I think that is a very fair offer!” Freddy agreed. Gregory looked up at him in betrayal before huffing.

“You would say that,” he grumbled.

“Just fer me own curiosity, but when’d you start calling the shots?” Foxy asked. He sounded more amused than anything. Or perhaps not amused, maybe a little smug, a shred of mocking in his tone.

“I have been calling the shots since the first night you got here. I just haven’t put my foot down until now,” Moon quickly corrected. “Don’t like Misss Smith fool you. I am the night guard.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Mike agreed.

“Then you best follow my rules, or I will be sure to escort you out,” Moon tutted. He then, finally, stepped aside and made a sweeping motion back with his arms. “Now then… Enjoy your stay.”

The group passed by- Freddy giving him a wink as he did- and headed through the security door and into the West Arcade proper.

#Mike Schmidt #Marionette #Charlie Emily #Foxy #Glamrock Freddy #Gregory #Moon #Jake #West Arcade #Going Home in a Box #GHIAB #Chapter 64 #teaser #it is a programming bug

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jessepinwheel · 3 years ago

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A little teaser pretty please? Does Detective Obi-Wan bullshit his way through his first AU encounter or did he have the time to do some research? How much crack can we expect?

obi-wan takes a hot second to realize what’s happened because nobody told him he was going to another dimension which is way worse than the dimension he came from. here’s a fun snippet from the first chapter for your reading pleasure:

The second thing I did was use a borrowed datapad to search myself on the HoloNet. Doing so was...overwhelming.

It took no time at all to find that Jedi Master--a *Master* at thirty-five? What the actual *hell?*--Obi-Wan Kenobi was a highly-regarded diplomat known for his calm disposition and charisma who had resolved hundreds of cases of governmental unrest or other diplomatic affairs across the galaxy. Now, with the Clone Wars, he had become notorious for his strategic brilliance as a High General of the Republic army. He wasn't just at the head of the war. He was the *face* of it.

My stomach churned at the thought.

There were holos of me--of *him*--everywhere. Candid snapshots, publicity holos of him interacting with younglings and soldiers and senators, blurry holovids of him deflecting storms of blasterfire with his lightsaber--

It was too much. Just about *everyone* in the Republic must know his name and face, and that was absolutely *horrifying.*

I found myself staring at a short holovid of him at some kind of Senatorial event--it didn't matter which one. He was dressed up in traditional Jedi robes and tabards and his hair was cut short, cropped at the nape of the neck, and he talked with a distinct Coruscanti accent, the way I used to when I was younger. His face looked just like mine.

That could have been me. In another life, in *this* life, that *would* have been me. Not a Temple reject who left the Order after less than a year of padawanship, but a man who fulfilled his dreams of becoming a Jedi Knight. A man who never had to leave his family in the Temple or become permanently disabled in both body and spirit. A man who was respected for doing *good* across the galaxy.

A perfect Jedi, they called him. Serene, level-headed, and competent--not angry and impulsive like I had been. Not a *failure* like I had been.

I didn't want to see this. I accepted a long time ago that the Jedi life was not the life for me, but what was I supposed to do when I saw evidence to the contrary so starkly? Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi *fit.* The life fit him so well that there wasn't any other path he could walk. He devoted himself to the Force and to helping others because that's where he was meant to be.

What did that say about me?

as for how much crack you should expect, it depends on what you constitute as crack. I mean the plot involves detective obi-wan recruiting maul to help assassinate palpatine and obi-wan pretends maul is his secret boyfriend so he can send him classified information stolen from the army. would that be considered crack? I don’t know, but the story overall is about as serious as asynch was, though race con has the benefit of palpatine getting merked (which isn’t really a spoiler, since obi-wan says he’s going to assassinate palpatine in literally the first chapter)

#fic: race condition #ask jesse

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dimigex · 5 years ago

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Healing Hands - YamaSaku

You can find the next chapter on A03 and FF, but here’s a little teaser. If you like what I do, consider buying me a ko-fi. Enjoy!

"Try to keep her off of it as much as possible,” Kazuko cautioned, securing an elastic bandage around the ankle of a young girl. When the mother scoffed, he chuckled under his breath. “I’m sure that’s easier said than done.”

The black haired toddler snubbed and rubbed her nose on her sleeve. Kazuko produced a lollipop from the pocket of his lab coat and, after a glance to her mother for approval, held it out for the little girl. She gulped in another breath to stop her tears as she took the treat. He turned his attention back to explaining the basic steps of caring for a sprain while the toddler sucked happily on the candy. The girl flashed a sticky grin at Kazuko and waved a fist over her mother’s shoulder when she was carried from the room.

Sakura watched the family disappear around the corner, then turned to find Kazuko jotting shorthand notes into the file. “I could have healed that in a few seconds, that girl could have walked out of here,” she stated.

"I know,” Kazuko answered. He snapped the file shut, then gestured toward the door. "And, how many mothers would bring their children tomorrow? Sprains, tiny abrasions, bumps that they would have treated at home. At what point does it end? When do we start turning them away?"

"You’re suggesting that medical ninjutsu is only for emergencies or shinobi?" Sakura frowned at the realization. She hated the idea of not helping whenever she could. Obviously, pushing through pain was useful in battle, but getting back to a normal life as soon as possible had to have some value too. Shouldn’t civilians be offered that?

Kazuko raised one shoulder in a shrug and placed the girl’s chart into the box beside the nurse’s station. "I just don’t see the point in overusing it, especially where civilians are concerned. Our bodies can heal themselves, you know?"

Sakura considered the words in silence, then filed them away for another day. She didn’t want to get into this argument until she’d had time to prepare her thoughts. Yawning, Sakura glanced at her watch. "Isn't our shift almost over?"

Laughing, Kazuko nodded at the clock. "We technically finished forty-five minutes ago, but that’s something else that you need to get used to. We never, and I mean never, get out on time."

The day had sped by in a blur of patients and new information. Sakura had studied the outdated system used at the hospital and gotten to know the people that she'd be working with in the coming months. She already had dozens of ideas on how to improve workflow and charting, but didn’t mention them to Kazuko, not yet. Firstly, she didn’t want him to think that she was overstepping. And secondly, Sakura swore to spend the first couple of months learning how things were done before she changed them.

Sakura kept Kazuko in her peripheral vision as they walked toward her office. Despite spending nearly the entire day together, the pair hadn’t discussed Sakura’s effective take over of his position. Though the stress of his thoughts on the situation were never far from her mind, Sakura hadn’t found the courage to ask. She hated the unknown. Handling, or even redirecting, anger was simple, but silence made her antsy.

Pausing outside her office door, Sakura turned to look up at Kazuko. “So, there are no hard feelings about all of this, right?”

Kazuko pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose before meeting Sakura’s eyes. His expression remained unreadable, as it had all day. “No hard feelings about what? About being replaced as acting head of the hospital for a woman six years my junior simply because she’s a shinobi and I’m a civilian?”

The statement stunned Sakura into silence. Her mouth opened and shut a couple of times as she tried to formulate a response. Then, Kazuko chuckled. “I’m kidding, mostly.”

“Are you though?” Sakura asked, studying the medic for a long moment. “It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“I don’t have any hard feelings toward you,” Kazuko clarified. Then, he shrugged. “But, don’t expect me to take it easy on you just because you’re the Hokage’s favorite.”

Sakura toyed with a loose button on her lab coat, twisting it one way, then the other. Kazuko’s light tone didn’t match his words. He had to be at least a little bit annoyed by the situation, but she didn’t press. “You know that Tsunade-sama is passing on the robes tomorrow, right?”

“To your former sensei, yes.” Kazuko answered. The man rubbed the side of his neck and sighed. “Look, I’m not going to be a problem for you. I honestly respect everything that you’ve accomplished, but you’re only what, eighteen?”

“Nineteen,” Sakura corrected. The rebuttal came a heartbeat too quick for her to pretend that the remark hadn’t stung. A flush of annoyance crept into her cheeks as she did the mental math. “And, twenty-five makes you so much more mature? Shinobi don’t have the luxury of growing up in the safety of the village--”

Kazuko’s scoff stopped the flow of words short. “The safety of the village?”

The near complete destruction of Konoha at the hands of Pein only a few years earlier jumped into Sakura’s mind. Then, the calamity of the nine tails attack not long before that. Maybe Kazuko had a point. Living in a shinobi village wasn’t as safe as she’d made it out to be, even with the protection it offered.

Sakura cleared her throat and tried again. “What I mean to say is that I’ve seen more than most nineteen year olds, more than most thirty year olds, even. I’ve worked in multiple hospitals over the past two years, served as a combat medic on missions, and in war. I’m not exactly inexperienced.”

“I never said you were,” Kazuko conceded with a tip of his head. He glanced down at his watch then shook his wrist. The gleam of silver disappeared into one sleeve. “Can we continue this conversation some other time? I’m already late for another engagement.”

Sakura arched one eyebrow, wondering if Kazuko were blowing her off because he didn’t want to deal with the issue right now. He obviously had more that he wanted to say on the subject. Curiosity nearly drove her to ask, but she surrendered to common sense in the end. She didn’t know this man well enough to push the topic. “Fine. See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Kazuko confirmed, turning away when Sakura stepped into her office. She didn’t let his attitude bother her. They would eventually work their issues out. Sakura would prove that she deserved the position as she’d done dozens of times over the past three years. Kazuko was a worry for tomorrow; Sakura had other plans tonight.

#Dimi Writes #My Writing #Healing Hands #YamaSaku #TenzSaku #Sakura Haruno #Tenzo #Yamato #Slow burn

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maychorian · 5 years ago

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Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I'm checking my ao3 notifications after every five minutes, hoping there'd be a new chapter for yofa... I love it so much... I don't know if I have waited for anything else like this, this whole week was a torture... I can't wait to read what's going to come... (do you have any spoilers/teasers?) i love you so much, sorry if this is annoying or anything, no pressure... I don't know what I'm saying, I'm rambling... sorry... continue being awesome:D

Ahh, I’m so sorry, and so happy. :D I would have written the chapter yesterday, but I had to work and then had a Halloween party, so I didn’t get home till 10 at night. I did get about 800 words written before I went to bed. And then I slept till noon thirty, because sometimes I do that on a Sunday.

But yeah, here’s a taste:

“Timothy.” A voice. Cultured, smooth. A hand brushed the hair away from his forehead and trailed over his cheek. “I know you’re awake, or almost so. You can open your eyes. There’s no point in pretending to be asleep.”

Tim knew that voice. He turned his head away from the hand, though he didn’t actively try to pull away. His heart beat a little faster, though he still felt mostly calm. He tugged at his hands, only then realizing that they were bound to something above his head.

The voice chuckled. “It’s only temporary, my boy. Open your eyes and look at me. Face your new circumstances. You cannot hide from me.”

Tim hated the smugness in that voice. The superiority and certainty. He squeezed his eyes even tighter shut in response, petulantly. Just because he could. The small act of defiance felt good, as fruitless as he knew it to be.

The hand slapped him then, lightly, leaving a stinging band across his cheek. The voice was hard now. “Timothy. Open your eyes. I confess to finding your stubbornness charming in some contexts, but I’ve had enough of it. You cannot escape me. There’s no use in pretending.”

#askbox #yofa #Anonymous

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slimacwrites · 8 years ago

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Dance With Demons- Ch. 31- Boston

Killian Jones is fighting a losing battle with his vice and hiding it behind his music persona. Emma Swan is the cop who arrests him for it. But that isn't the first time the two of them have met. After Emma impulsively offers him her apartment to recover away from the tabloids, it also won't be the last. For her it's just giving someone a chance she never had. But can it be more? Read the rest here.

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show’s creators.

Header by the amazingly talented @shady-swan-jones

Killian had to press down on his leg to keep it from bouncing. Not that there was anyone around to see him but the Uber driver. But still, news traveled fast. Especially when a celebrity was involved.

And why would Killian Jones have anything to be nervous about.

He was about to return to the world of music properly, that radio interview over a month prior had been a teaser and he was about to go on live tv. His paycheck would take a massive climb and countless numbers of fans would soon be screaming his lyrics along with him in the biggest stadiums in America.

Everything was great.

Except for the fact that Killian Jones wasn’t anything like the persona now. And yet he had to be exactly what everyone expected. The radio wasn’t bad because people didn’t need to see him. He could do as he pleased so long as he sounded like sex, drugs and rock and roll. But on live tv? With a record deal and executives that expected very specific things?

Yeah, that was a different kettle of fish all together.

Because people would see. All those fans who knew every swaggering step, every smirk, even his preferred brand of black eyeliner- they would be watching. And noting if something was off.

So Killian Jones wasn’t nervous, but the person who wore his suit, Killian Jones, was.

Regina had already had his supplies, his chosen wardrobe, guitar, ear piece, everything, sent ahead to Boston with his gig man so that the guitar would be ready for the talk show he was performing on that afternoon. Which was probably a good thing because Killian was pretty sure he would have forgotten his guitar in his nervousness.

The Uber pulled up onto the tarmac of the private lot, slowing as they neared the private plane for Boston. Usually Killian would take a regular plane, not really fussed, but Regina had decided, and Killian had been not so secretly grateful, that Killian wasn’t ready for that kind of public exposure. His manager, bless her icy exterior, was going to protect him as long as she could. Though it was probably nice for her to have the help of his assigned protector, Emma, for the more hands on stuff.

It was obvious that Emma was looking forward to getting into the security job. She’d gone ahead of Killian, not that she’d stayed at his place the night before, but he had been texting her, so she could scope out the area and debrief with Regina. Killian actually looked forward to seeing Emma in her element, far away from the treatment in the precinct. It would be a glorious sight and one that did much to calm his frayed nerves.

Killian sucked in a deep breath before nodding to the driver and slipping out of the car, to-go coffee cup in hand. The stairs for the plane were down and Emma stood beside them, watching the flight crew carefully. She wore her hair tied up in a tight pony tail and a black polo embroidered with the Poison Apple logo in green just below her left shoulder. A gun was holstered to her hip in as non-flashy a holster as one could really get while still making sure people knew it was there. A little smile flicked up her lips when she noticed Killian arrive.

Killian crossed the tarmac to her, finally smiling for the first time that morning.

“Hello, lass,” he greeted, moving to kiss her.

Emma turned quickly, moving her arm as if she were ushering him inside the plane instead of returning the greeting. “Inside,” she murmured, lips barely moving. “There are paparazzi outside the gate. Someone got hold of your flight schedule.”

Killian gulped, trying to stop from turning immediately and running. Fuck. The protection he needed for Emma had nearly been blown, and would have been if it weren’t for how careful and aware she was. Would the paps think anything of the weird almost kiss?

Not when Killian Jones was a known flirt. With a deep breath Killian steeled his features and turned towards the metal fencing around the private airport. Sly grin in place, eyebrow climbing higher every second, Killian raised his coffee cup in a salute towards the place where cameras were not so subtly peaking from around bushes. At least this would give better pictures than whatever the awkward bob did and increase the likelihood of this planned picture being published in the magazines and gossip sites.

“Inside,” Killian muttered, feeling an uncomfortable tug, as if his muscles didn’t want to play this game. Didn’t want to smirk and wink and swagger. Oh, how he wished he’d taken up Victor’s offer and gotten some more anti-anxiety meds, those ones that worked in a panic attack. But he was already taking his SSRIs and there was this fear that as someone so prone to vice, introducing more meds, especially strong ones like he’d originally been taking for the immediate anxiety, would cause more trouble than fix.

Emma returned with a sharp nod before going back to watching everyone move around the plane. Killian climbed the stairs and took his seat. Regina raised a brow from her own.

“And how are we today, Mr. Jones?”

“Peachy,” he answered grimly, taking a sip of his now cold coffee.

“You forgot the eyeliner.” Regina held up a black pencil, offering it to him.

Killian cursed softly before taking the pencil and slipping to the tiny onboard bathroom. Killian Jones was never without eyeliner. It was part of the appeal, the image expected of him. Without the eyeliner he looked more like himself, more vulnerable. Without the eyeliner people could get in. Without the eyeliner people were reminded of the band he was once part of, with a brother and friends. A few slicks of black khol and Killian Jones had arrived. Almost as if a mask had slid into place.

Killian exited the bathroom just as Emma came on board, the staircase folding up into a door behind her.

“Morning, lass,” Killian greeted, reaching out and catching her hand.

This time Emma smiled properly and squeezed his hand. “Morning, Killian.”

“That’s better,” he grinned, kissing her cheek quickly before taking his seat. Emma slid down beside him, buckling up.

“You doing okay?” she asked, leaning down beside him to murmur in his ear while Regina started typing away on her laptop.

“Ask me later?”

She gave him a weak smile. “How little sleep did you get?”

“Three hours?” Killian put in with a self-depreciating shrug. “How can you tell?”

“I actually used to be a detective,” Emma grinned back. A wave of gratitude shot through him that this guard position had been open and that Regina had agreed for her to take it. Emma was joking about her time as a detective. And it wasn’t self-depreciating or bitter.

“Really?” Killian returned, happy to go with her mood on the subject. “I didn’t know that.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You haven’t been having coffee at all anymore and here you are with a grande.”

“A ginger shot just wasn’t going to cut it.”

“You should sleep now,” Emma suggested, interlacing her fingers with his and moving her neck, as if to create a space for him. Killian watched for a moment before nodding, that weary anxiety weighing heavily on his bones. In private things were easier. Easier to just be. With a sigh Killian settled his head against her shoulder and allowed the whirr of the plane engine and the warmth of Emma’s body to lull him to sleep.

The rest of the morning went by in a buzz. Killian managed to sleep the entire trip to Boston, as well as the car ride to the TV station through traffic. Sleep was an oblivion, enough to pull him out of the stress, especially when Emma sat next to him, unable to hold his hand in the public Uber but only a few inches away. Once they reached the television station, Emma shook his shoulder, rousing him.

“There’s a crowd gathered.” Emma’s voice was tight.

“What?” Killian asked blearily, peering out the tinted window. Sure enough there were at least twenty teenage girls and a few harried adults standing outside of the back door to the station.

Fuck.

“It will be okay,” Emma whispered. “I’m here. The door’s unlocked and we’ll get through it.”

The Uber next to them holding Regina parked and his manager got out, sweeping inside without a problem, no doubt throwing one of her famous glares at the girls. Or they just didn’t know who she was. But they knew who Killian was.

Emma spoke into the mic hanging from the earpiece she wore, listening to the response. Killian wanted to ask her who she was contacting but he was too busy watching the girls with their signs. They probably wanted him to sign those bristol board posters. Killian’s hands shook at the thought, forcing him to grasp at the black denim jeans he wore. How much of an asshole was he for not wanting to sign autographs and take pictures? Oh how much easier this was when he was halfway to the bottom of a bottle already. At least then if he decided he couldn’t pretend to be Killian Jones that day he was too far gone to care.

“I can’t talk to them today,” Killian whispered, catching Emma’s attention quickly. “I can’t pretend anymore than I already have to.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “I can be a bitch for you.”

Killian had to snort out a laugh, but the sound was quickly stopped when Emma climbed out of the car. She quickly hurried around the front of the car to Killian’s side, pulling the door open.

“Deep breath, and mask on. We’ll be inside in thirty seconds.”

Killian shut his eyes for a moment. It was way easier to pretend to be sex drugs and rock and roll when he was never sober. Killian pushed himself out of the car, nearly climbing back in when the crowd started to scream and push closer to him.

“Mr. Jones has no time to sign autographs today.” Emma put herself between the mass and himself when they didn’t stop, hands up. “Back off,” she barked, hand dancing over the revolver at her hips. A few of the girls and all the parents stopped, eyeing her warily. But not all. Again, Killian had to stop himself from running. Or spilling the entire truth so they would just back off.

“Back off. I won’t ask again.” The vitriol in her voice made even Killian glance at her. It sounded how she’d talk to a criminal, maybe someone attempting to run her through with a knife to get away. “I will have you all arrested.” That got all their attention and the remaining girls to stop.

“Thank you,” Emma answered, softer now. She reached back to grasp Killian’s elbow and guided him through the crowd with no issue. Oh, Emma was glorious. He wished he wasn’t quite so anxious and could actually appreciate it but he was too busy trying to keep smirking and throwing the occasional wink at the fans.

A few moments later, Emma was pulling open the big steel station door and allowing him into the relative quiet of the station. The speaker in Emma’s ear crackled and she stopped to listen before leading him further up the hallway.

“Your dressing room is up here. Regina’s already in a meeting getting everything set up.”

Killian just nodded, following Emma up the cement lined hallway, made to isolate sounds for the studio. Halfway up the hallway was a black door with his name taped to it. She opened the door and moved aside so Killian could enter. Killian slipped into the dressing room and sunk down onto the nearest chair, an old upholstered thing. Emma shut the door and grabbed a bottle of water on the counter with the rest of the rider requests Regina had sent in and handed it to him.

“I shouldn’t be in here but I just wanted to ask- how are you doing?”

Killian glanced up at her and sighed. “Are you sure I can do this?”

“Are you sure you can’t?” Emma returned, squatting down in front of him and placing her hands on his knees, warming and grounding.

“It’s just exhausting,” Killian answered truthfully.

Everything was exhausting. Out here, he felt like a lie. Killian only felt like himself when he was in his house or Emma’s apartment, no illusions between them. He didn’t want to put on those leather pants and the leering smile that he’d be furious if someone sent at Emma.

“You won’t always have to lie.”

“Everyone here wants something from me.” It was hard not to sound whining and he felt a bit bad about that. Because Killian knew he was lucky but he was just so tired of all this. Of the lies and the persona and not getting to figure out who he was. Because he wasn’t who he was before the alcohol, too much had happened since, but he also wasn’t the man Emma had pulled off that boat two months prior. Eight weeks wasn’t a long time to be sober- well it felt like an eternity- but it also was so short a time to figure himself out after years of floating and fumbling.

Emma nodded, pulling him back to the present. “But think about this- tonight it will be just me and you in the hotel. No one else to need anything.”

Killian raised a brow. “You and me in a suite?”

Emma grinned and Killian had to study her carefully because it actually seemed like she was implying something beyond just sleeping. And damn, didn’t that make his stomach flip with anticipation. And also a bit of hesitation and confusion. They’d slept together a few more times the past week and each night seemed to get more difficult. Each night they seemed to come together and spoon quicker. Each night he slept more soundly but dreamed more vividly. Each morning he woke harder. And not just because he was always a bit sleepy and spent too much time watching Emma sleep.

“Oh?” Killian asked, slightly breathless.

“Oh,” Emma answered, standing. “Get ready. You’re on in thirty.” She pressed a kiss to his lips and left, Killian’s groan following her out.

Damn temptress.

The two of them alone, in a fancy hotel room. A mini-vacation of sorts. With Emma clearly interested in trying. Trying being the operative word because Killian had no idea what he was capable of. Killian groaned again, this time for a different reason.

Emma had saved him only to be the death of him.

Killian guzzled the water bottle before standing to change into the leather pants and black t-shirt with the rips in it that Regina had set out already. The leather pants didn’t go on quite as easily as they had before on tour, his legs having filled out a bit from all the running he’d done. At least this was one way to see the progress beyond a lack of a daily hangover. Killian would need to order new pants before tour because there was no way he was dancing around in these for three hours. Once he was dressed Killian mussed his hair so it flipped around like he’d just had really good sex, pulled the v-neck of his shirt even lower and then slipped into his heavy black boots again, singing to himself.

The leather and black costume helped. It almost made him feel like the person he was supposed to be, as if it were easier to pretend when he looked the part. Killian never could have pretended to be the rockstar in that yellow t-shirt he’d loaned Emma the week before. Not that anyone would have taken him serious in that.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. “Mr. Jones? You’re on in five.”

Killian sucked in a breath that may have been a gasp before grabbing another bottle of water and opening the door. A PA stood beside Emma, checking her schedule. She nearly squeaked when Killian appeared, eyes widening. Despite the anxiety flooding him, Killian had to grin. Emma caught his eye and rolled her own.

“This way,” the PA instructed after coughing into her hand, heat climbing her cheeks. Killian motioned for her to lead the way, Emma following into step beside him.

“Like what you see?” Killian whispered, raising a brow saucily.

“Enough that I’m glad Regina got us a big bed.”

Killian couldn’t respond because they’d entered the main station floor where he’d be performing. All he could do was sputter when Emma winked at him and moved to stand next to Regina off camera. Killian had to force himself to think about Regina riding a tricycle to stop himself from embarrassing himself. Because those leather pants were damn tight and didn’t hide anything.

Killian hadn’t had sex since the first time he met Emma, that time she threatened to shoot him, nearly three months prior. At first he hadn’t known why but he’d since come to realize that Emma had caught him off guard so much that morning that he started to question all his decisions. Including finding all those bar flies each night. And then everything else got in the way. Was this Emma’s way of saying she was ready? She wasn’t going to run? Or was she just as horny as Killian was? Either way, Killian really wanted to leave and go to the hotel and find out exactly what she was doing turning him on.

Killian grabbed his guitar, stood behind the mic, and looked towards where Emma stood, smiling a bit like the cat who got the cream. Oh, she was going to pay for the dangerous game she’d started.

The producer waved at him. “Twenty seconds Mr. Jones. Give us an intro then sing. We’ve an intro tape already playing.”

Killian nodded, he’d seen that a few days prior, a mix of the hosts thoughts and old clips of Killian’s tours and shows meant to tease the longer interview the next day on the morning show. It was standard but would please the fans and hopefully attract new with the clips of some of his best work- and gratuitous shirtless and tight pants images.

The producer pointed at him, before counting down from five on her fingers. When she pointed again, the light on the camera facing him came on and Killian stepped closer to the mic so that his lips nearly touched it.

“Good afternoon,” he purred, lowering his voice to the one he had heard equated to sex, accent thick and husky. “This is a song from my new album, called Chipped Tea Cup. Enjoy.” A quick wink at the camera before Killian started to strum. It wasn’t meant to be a sexy song, meant more as a sweet love song that so often attracted the fans to the album as a whole- he really should write a few new ones of those- but he wouldn’t be the man who created the Killian Jones persona if he couldn’t turn anything into an innuendo.

Especially when the most beautiful and sexy woman he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing was watching.

And apparently it worked because Emma’s face was red when he glanced at her halfway through the song. Killian didn’t know if he should be proud or nervous of the can of worms he’d opened. Or maybe bed sheets he’d turned down.

Once the song ended, Killian very intentionally licked his lips and smirked. The producer waved off the camera and then he was free, the day’s obligations over. When he glanced back at Emma she was shaking her head, biting her lip against the grin, hand flat against her chest.

“You’re bad,” Emma whispered when Killian had joined her again in the dressing room.

“You started it,” he responded.

“Care to end it?”

“You’re really serious about this?” Killian asked, the words coming out before he could stop himself.

Emma nodded. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it and we’re here and together and I’m not saying we fuck.” Killian snorted at her bluntness. “I’m just saying we explore. I mean, if you want to.” Emma shrugged and looked away.

Explore?

Relief filled Killian. No sex but still fooling around. It was still too soon for Killian to trust his body and Emma still seemed conscious of her chance to run. Maybe fooling around would be the fun thing to kick start things. They may have only been together for nearly two months, but, Killian would have fallen into bed far sooner before. Not that they weren’t in bed. But Killian would have been in bed in his birthday suit weeks ago. Hell, he and Milah had gotten it on a week after their first date. It was definitely time to see Emma shirtless.

Killian grasped her hand, pulling her closer. “Oh, I want to.”

“Good.” Emma kissed him hard and quick. “Now get ready. You have dinner and stuff to go to.”

“Oh, stuff alright.” Killian lunged to touch Emma’s behind but she dodged the hand with a wink before jumping out of the way and letting herself out the door. Once again Killian found himself groaning at his girlfriend.

And wishing he wore sweatpants all through dinner as he watched Emma slip food into her mouth, lips wrapping slowly around the fork as she smirked saucily when Regina wasn’t looking.

And cursing the Boston traffic.

And Regina for wanting to review the set list for the next day’s show in his room.

It was after nine before Regina left, leaving Killian sitting on the edge of the bed and Emma perched on the windowsill. The minute the door shut behind Regina, Killian stood and threw the door lock.

“Finally,” he sighed.

Emma laughed and stood, meeting him in the middle of the large suite, bare toes digging into the plush carpet. Killian stopped about a foot away, watching her.

“Do you still want to explore?” Killian asked, feeling like a virgin asking if he could cop a feel at the school dance. At least Emma seemed just as nervous, the two of them having sat on their arousal and thoughts for far too long.

Emma nodded, biting at her lip. “Yeah.”

“What if I can’t get hard? Or stay hard?” Killian asked, face heating up.

“What if I freak out? Or I missed a patch of hair shaving this morning?”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” Killian replied, scowling a bit.

Emma quickly shook her head. “I didn’t mean that, Killian” she answered, reaching to grab his hand. “I mean that, I’m scared too. I want this to be good. I’m at the point now where I want it to be so perfect I’m actually worried if I missed the hair on my ankle.”

Of course Emma was worried about the little things. She wasn’t used to this type of intimacy either. She was just as emotionally hurt as he was physically when it came to sex. But they’d never move on if they didn’t try.

“I won’t look at your foot,” Killian replied.

Emma grinned. “Good, because I was thinking that we could explore your body.”

“Mine?” Killian asked, nervous but also a bit excited.

Emma nodded. “I mean, you’re really worried about everything when it comes to sex. Asking you to go straight into that isn’t fair so I was thinking we could slowly start to build up your confidence in what you can do now that you’re getting healthy. And I think that taking care of you like this might help me to.” Emma muttered the last bit, still not totally comfortable in showing her emotions. It reminded Killian of the first day he was at her place, when she researched all the food he needed during recovery. Emma coughed. “Plus, I really want to give you a blow job.”

Killian felt his knees start to buckle. Oh. That sounded brilliant. Even better because Emma had actually thought about all this, about what they needed to keep moving forward in a physical way. How was he supposed to say no to something he wanted so badly, that also had the potential to really help him understand his new body?

Nerves still filling him but not enough to shove down his determination to do this with Emma, he raised a brow. “Well what are we waiting for?”

Emma grinned and shoved him onto the bed.

#cs au #cs ff #ouat ff #captain swan #slimacwrites

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