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ac3id · 4 years

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bnha: tomura shigaraki x fem! reader

warnings: suggestive themes

word count. 1k+

a/n: based n this req:

i was gonna keep it short but then i went over 1k words so here it is 😽

tagging: @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

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“Hey.” Dabi’s rough voice cuts through the air drawing your attention to him almost immediately. He takes a seat beside you on the bar counter of the league’s dingy hideout. Another voice greets you; this time it’s cheery and girlish. You turn to your right seeing Toga take a seat beside you too. It doesn’t take a genius to know you are trapped. “The mission went well, huh?” Toga asks, eyeing your drink, there was nothing special about it other than the fact it was free. Whenever someone returned after a successful mission, Kurogiri always took it upon himself to make them a free drink in a form of praise. “Yes, it went well.” You replied avoiding eye contact with either of them. You knew what they were doing, they did this often. They liked to corner you and make you do things you didn’t like, they liked teasing you until the point tears were pricking the corner of your eyes. Their reason to torment you was always the same, they were taking a test to see how tough you really. A little different from the rest of the pack of criminals, you were a little timid and soft-hearted. Your meekness often perceived as cowardness of fear made Dabi and Toga think you were not the right fit for the group, maybe your quirk was strong but that was all the pros of having you. They’d repeatedly remind you but you knew better, they bullied you just because. The degenerates were no better than highschool bullies, maybe even worse.

“Good to see you are actually making yourself useful,” Dabi remarks abruptly making you shrink in your seat. You want retort but you have to say, he’s right. The majority of your mission ended badly, you were a new villain with no experience, it was not all your fault. “Oh, forget that!” Toga chirped, pulling you by your shoulder, forcing you to face her. “Do you know Shigaraki Tomura?” she asks. You look at her dumbfounded, not believing her question. “You know, the leader? With hands all over his body? Handsy freak?” Dabi encourages making you scoff. Were they seriously serious? Did they just ask you whether or not you knew your own leader, your employer? Of course, you did!

“Really!? I have never seen you talk to him, you always seemed to avoid him. So, I thought you didn’t know who he was,” she pouts explaining herself, “Are you scared of him or something?” Scared? Of Tomura Shigaraki? Of course, you were. You were terrified of everyone in the league but Tomura stood out the most. With his rude and cold demeanor, he intimidates you. The cold, pale hand which sticks to his face at all times adds to his eerie appearance, his vermillion eyes glowing from underneath it, sending death glares to everyone. A glance towards his direction is enough to tell you he's someone you don't want anything to do with. His quirk, his personality all adds to it. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to anyway, your shyness and fear of rejection would never let you open up to anyone else other than your friends. You don’t answer Dabi’s question, “I will take that as a yes,” he smirks cruelly. You try to retort but before you can say anything, he changes the topic.

“Tell me,” He calls out your name grimly, “are you a pussy?” What? “I don’t understand,” you ask nervously. The perplexed expression which scans your face makes Dabi cringe, he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth before speaking, “It’s a simple question. Are you a pussy? Or you got balls?” You are still confused but get the basic idea, they were here to bother again. You have a bad feeling about this. You know what you should do; give him a reaction he does not want so he can leave alone and stop bothering you but you also know your pride won’t surrender that easily. There is no way you would ever admit to him that you are a weak, pathetic coward. So naturally, you make the wrong decision. “No I am not a pussy,” the word almost feels wrong when you say it out loud. It's not as degrading as when Dabi had said it, the need to drag it down the dirt and toss it back up is missing when you say it and Toga notices as she snickers. Dabi quickly catching on sends you a devious smirk, “Atta, girl!” he pats your head jokingly, you push his hand away annoyed. They liked sending you praises as one would to a kid, you found it revolting but they enjoyed tormenting you. “We have an important job for you,” toga begins, flashing her taunting canines at you making you shudder. Oh, this was up to no good.

“So here’s the thing,” Dabi begins, “Boss has been kinda’ very annoying recently, if you talked to him you’d understand,” eyebrow twitching at the comment you wonder whether it was necessary. “And it gets hard to work with him so would you mind helping out, ya’ know what I am saying?” You look at him still confused while he just gives you an oblivious look, what was he on about?

“Helping out?” you quote, curiosity ridden in your eyes. Toga snickers before leaning in towards you, her breath fawns over your ear as she whispers a dirty, little secret. “You know, get him all hot and bothered. Help your leader out here,” you almost choke at her words. There was no way in hell you would ever do that! You never even want to stand closer than three feet from your boss, what Toga is asking for is downright atrocious. You push her away from you, creating a safe distance. You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment before you start speaking, “There is NO way I am going anywhere near that man!” you exclaim confidently. Dabi looks disappointed but he’s not given up yet while Toga pouts, “What!? Why not?” she asks and without giving you a chance to speak she continues, “I always catch you staring at him! Do you not like him? I thought you did, so we asked you,” her tone is apologetic but she is not wrong. Often you would find yourself zoning out and staring at your leader. Shigaraki always attracted your eyes. He was like a mystery, there was no wonder you wanted to know more about him. About how he thinks, lives you want to know so much more. Your curiosity about it unfortunately gets pulled out by your fear of him, you can’t imagine staying in the same room as him. Too conscious about his judgemental eyes ghosting your figure and searching for flaws which would make him want to leave you.

“I don’t like him, though.” You finish. At this point, you believe that you have beaten Toga and Dabi at their own game as you watch their faces fall. You feel pride enveloping you for the second time that day knowing that you had the crazy duo speechless. “Okay then,” Dabi still has to say. He throws a devious smirk, “It’s a dare. I dare you to seduce Tomura Shigaraki.”

You are speechless. “C’mon, you’re not a chicken are you? You do this and I’ll do a dare you give me,” was he really ‘daring’ you to seduce the most dangerous man you have ever met for fun? “I- How would I even do that?” You ask. Your experience in the field of ‘seduction’ was absolutely zero. You couldn’t just walk up to someone and ask them to sleep with you. They have to be mocking you, right? This was a joke- a silly little prank, right? “Aw, c’mon! You don’t even have to go all the way, just kiss him maybe a hand job or something then leave! Shouldn’t be that much of a problem.” Toga spoke sending you puppy dog eyes making you cringe, “You are not going to do it?” Dabi ponders his brow raised, his eyes wait patiently for your answer. You think for a moment if you say no to them; you know for a fact a nasty rumor about you will go around no doubt ruining your reputation and if you say yes..well, you get to kiss your boss and as Dabi promised: you could ‘dare’ him to do anything. Maybe you will make him dance around naked.

“Fine, I will go..” The way their faces light up sends a cold shiver down your spine and your gut kicks in telling you it's a bad idea, but you cannot take your word back now. You reluctantly head into the dark hallway to your leader’s room where he had been locked in since the morning. Probably playing games or making plans for the league, you couldn’t care less. You knock on his door, fidgeting with your fingers while you wait for him to open the door, you didn’t want to barge straight in. It would be very disrespectful to your leader and you’d die before you know it. “He is not going to open the fucking door! Just go in.” You hear Dabi’s faint voice, guess they have been counting your steps. You hesitate a moment before reaching out to the doorknob, you twist it and it unlocks. A nervous sigh leaves your lips as you push the door ajar, stepping into the room and closing it behind you gently, trying your best to not make noise. You find Shigaraki adhered to his devices, his focus is completely planted on the game he plays. The bright screen deceiving shots of violence while he grunts and curses into his earphones. You stand there, next to the door, taking in his entire and it’s a mess. The lights are out, the only source coming from the iridescent screen of Shigaraki’s gameplay. There’s trash everywhere, his bed hasn’t been made. The covers and blanket almost fall off his bed, there are a desk and chair in the room which hasn’t been organized either.

Damn, he really be living like this.

You wait for Shigaraki to notice and you presume he won’t be noticing you until you let him know you are there but you are proved wrong as he glances in your direction, the most astonished expressions falling on his face. Shigaraki sits without father covering his face so you can see his features. Little scars are running everywhere, two significantly larger ones stretching across his left eye and lips. He scans your body head to toe as you shirk back under his heated gaze, “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks and honestly you wonder the same. You don’t answer his question but move forward towards him changing the subject entirely, “Mr. Shigaraki, there’s something I need to tell you…” You stand right in front of him, your knee touching his as he is seated down on his gaming chair holding his control with his pinkies lifted. Your face heats up in embarrassment as you stare down at him with glassy eyes, your heartbeat picks up with him looking back at you with those murderous, red orbs confusion still written all over. You can get that he has picked up the slightest idea about your here as his cheeks pinken the closer you move to him. Your hand slides up his tight slowly, settling close to his crotch making him grunt. You lean down until your face level with his, “Shigaraki…” you utter softly before connecting your lips with his. The action catches him off guard as his pinkies fall on the controller turning it into dust within seconds, but he lets himself get lost in the feeling of your lips squished against him. Honestly, he has no idea what’s gotten into you but he is so glad he’s getting to experience this. Your lips are soft, and warm against his cold and chapped ones. The comfort he feels when your lips mold against him sends him into heaven, it’s a feeling he could use too, a feeling he wants to keep to himself. As you keep him hungrily, he takes the pleasure of running his hands over your body. With his pinkies raised his hands map across your curves, ass, and end upon groping your tits making you gasp into the kiss. Shigaraki takes this as his chance and nips at your lips, drawing a pained moan from you before pushing his tongue into your mouth. You let out choked gasps as his tongue licks away into your mouth greedily, you try to put up a fight but it’s no use. Your leader is much rougher, he kisses you like it's the end of the world. He is almost feral at the way he used your mouth leaving you no place to strength making you submit to him. When he pulls away from the kiss to regain his breath, he wastes no time in throwing you on his dirty bed and climbing over you. You look up at him, his cheeks flushed, eyes dark and clouded with lust, you remind yourself to thank Dabi and Toga later.

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hookaroo · 5 years

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Vocivore, Ltd. (32 of 41?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1 and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*****AMAZING AND ALSO HEARTBREAKING COVER ART!!!!! MY POOR BOY, HELPLESS AND SCREAMING WHILE HE SLOWLY LOSES HIS GRIP ON REALITY… D: COCOHOOK38 IS TRYING TO KILL US ALL!!!!*************

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

Two days ago (continued)...

David. Detective Jones.

"Killian?"

His... the Master, watching, listening.

“Killian, it’s me. I’m here.”

His own blade flashing down, plunging into the prince's back, striking off the detective's chest. Smoke and flame, sparks of blue lightning, orders to kill growing stronger, overcoming his battered reason. That was then. Now…

“Can you hear us, Hook?”

Pain, that familiar companion, muted and fuzzy. And words half-remembered, half-commanded. The last thing he wanted to say, obliged.

"I must return."

The grating growl sounded almost as bad as he felt.

"I must return to my Master."

Did the ragged quality of his voice do enough to disguise his utter terror at the very thought? Or did his audience hear lack of conviction? How he would rather perish in that hospital bed than spend one single second more in the Master's presence?

Somehow, Emma managed to keep up a false front, even though she was undoubtedly just as tempted as he was to fling herself at him and express her love after such a long and difficult separation. The story demanded that she turn her questioning to the subject of their supposedly missing daughter. Killian displayed exhaustion and confusion: not much of a stretch, although the drugged haze did not let him forget the fact that they may be under observation. But when Killian reached up toward his throat, he was pleasantly surprised to find the dreadful collar gone. He and Emma could talk freely… if it weren’t for the crowd of onlookers surrounding his bed.

Emma must have shared his urgency to have a real conversation, for she immediately got to work bargaining for time alone with him. Fighting the persistent pull of narcotic slumber, Killian gladly allowed her to handle the details. Bloody hell, the pressure between his ears was intensifying, voices in the room sounding like they were being filtered through stacks of wool. His damaged stump pulsed with pain despite the drugs pumping into him; he vaguely remembered using it in battle and must have reinjured partially healed flesh inside. But the measured tone of Jones' voice alleviated a small amount of guilt: he would be in a hell of a lot of pain for awhile but would evidently make a full recovery.

Killian listened dully to the negotiations taking place. 15 minutes would be pushing things; 10 was nothing. But it might be his only chance, if bloody Whale insisted on more sedation afterward. Gods, that sounded like nirvana. The drugs would hardly even be necessary; Killian felt as if he could sleep for a month, and dammit, he did not have that kind of luxury.

“...Mr. Zombie Universe…”

That about summed it up. No matter that he looked the part; he felt even worse. While he was on some kind of opioid--he knew that for a fact--the simple act of breathing made some hurt or other fire up in a never-ending carousel of complaint. His arms were doing their blasted skittering again, and choking fog kept swirling behind his eyes. Getting up, he could maybe handle. Escape without alarm, doubtful. As for a long trek… back there…

Killian didn’t realize he was panting, tense and desperate, until Emma leaned over and began caressing his face. She placed a light kiss on the tip of his nose, whispering,

“It’s okay; they’re gone… Killian?”

Through the vise constricting inexorably tighter within his throat, Killian whined,

“I have to go back.”

He couldn’t open his eyes. He would see his wife there, fraught with worry and determined to detain him. Not understanding. And he would relent, and they would lose their only advantage, and all would suffer and die and it would be his fault for being a cowardly weakling--

“Killian, no.”

Choking back a sob, he struggled to detach himself from the fear. “My Mas… the… the monster, it… it’s starting to trust me, that’s why it sent me here, as a test, but it… it knows things, Emma, it can sense things and if I don’t return we’ll never have this opportunity again--”

“Rumplestiltskin lied to us.”

Emma’s quiet statement brought him up short, and he could not help opening his eyes then. An icy shiver of dread shot down his spine.

“Hope? Is she...?”

“No, she’s okay.”

He couldn’t even allow the automatic wave of relief, or his Master would feel it. Killian deliberately swung his bandaged stump against the bedrail, cringing as the spike vibrated within his flesh and ground glass pressed against raw nerves.

“Then what?” he growled. Emma blinked, started to reach for the injury, but grabbed his fisted hand instead.

“Your immunity. You were asleep, but they did an MRI, and Whale confirmed: you’re starting to show the same symptoms as all the others, the ones who…”

Who had died. All of them; they’d all died.

But it didn’t matter. If he failed his mission, the whole United Realms--hell, the whole world--would face that same fate.

“Bollocks. Whale is a damn fool; I’m completely fine.”

“I can hear you.”

He stared at her blankly, and she touched his shoulder.

“Did you forget? I’ve been listening.”

Killian swallowed, sickened by the reminder. The last thing he wanted to think about was subjecting his beloved to his torment. “Aye? What of it?”

Her lips tightened, revealing the struggle to contain her emotions. It’s so hard, she seemed to say. I can’t keep listening to you fall. Bleed. Scream. Suffer. “So you win his trust. Then what? You need to tell me that you have a plan. ‘Cuz I’ve gleaned exactly zero from this guy. And it has to be worth it.”

Killian drew as deep a breath as he could muster. He had to make this convincing.

“I do have a plan, Swan. And I’ll need your assistance to pull it off.”

“I’m listening…”

He thought for a moment, willing his sluggish brain to gather all of the pieces into a coherent thought.

“You… may have gathered that the Master feeds off of negative emotions in addition to the… the screams?”

Emma’s response was drowned out by echoing memories of his own cries of agony, trumpeting loudly in his skull. He hissed and pressed his fingers into his eye sockets, begging the noise to stop.

“You okay?” asked Emma quietly, full of concern. With a final shudder, Killian nodded. “I hate to rush this, but we’re running out of time.”

Mumbling as he massaged his forehead, Killian continued. “Well, it’s weakened by positive emotion--that’s why it sends its slave army to wreak random havoc. The worse the morale around its hideout, the stronger it gets.”

“Kinda got that already, when the bastard was sending you out on your mission.”

“Aye, well, suppose we could turn that to our advantage?” He lay his hand at his side once again, tremors causing his fingers to twitch uncontrollably.

“How? Even if we sent the most annoyingly cheerful and optimistic beings in the Realms, the guard slaves would kill them all before they ever got close.”

“Its camera network,” slurred Killian. An inexorable weight pressed down, the feeling of disconnectedness, of floating through half-reality with nothing to grip. His heavy eyelids at half mast, he struggled out, “Turn all camera feeds into positivity channels--uplifting music, comedies, silly cartoons and the like--at the right time…”

Emma managed to look simultaneously thoughtful and skeptical. “Defeat the scream-eater with laughter? Pretty sure I've seen that one.”

Killian shuddered. “How Pixar managed to come so close with that Waternoose fellow, I’ll never know.”

“Another one to permanently take off the Netflix queue?”

Killian restrained himself from reaching for her hand. He couldn’t allow the comfort, not now. His Master would sense it. “So? Can I count on you to arrange the details?”

“Tell people to add a laugh track to their home security systems… but without letting the cameras see.”

“Precisely.”

She blew out a breath. “Not difficult at all.”

“Remember, you’ll have the advantage of knowing when the creature is… occupied…” He smiled bravely, and perhaps the early stages of neurological degeneration could explain the quaver in his voice and the flicker of reluctance on his face.

“But, hold on, in the movie, didn’t the laughter produce more energy? For the… monster city or whatever?”

Shifting off of an intensifying throb in one hip, Killian squeezed his eyes shut in brief concession to the pain. “You, of all people, should know not to put too much stock in those things.” He worked to settle, to absorb as much rest as he could before it became impossible once again. “I’m certain it doesn’t work that way in this case. The Master has every reason to be forthright with its slaves. And it has been very clear about its need for negativity.”

“Okay, but… hell, why do you even have to go back? The camera stuff can easily be managed without you in the mix.”

He shook his head once. “It will have to be an exceedingly powerful dose to get past all of the despair the Master has cultivated in its slaves. Someone will need to tune each of the monitors to a positive channel, all at the same time. I managed to do some scouting last night; I think I know where its surveillance equipment is kept. And then, if the positivity isn’t enough... I’ll be there to finish the monster off.”

There was a beat, punctuated only by quiet beeps and the whir of the IV pump at his bedside. Then Emma grimaced.

“It’s a terrible plan. I hate it.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “I concur. But it’s all we have.”

He could tell she was thinking furiously, searching for alternatives, brain turning things over and over so fast it hurt. Her pained scowl could attest to that. He also knew the moment she gave in: her spine sagged in brief defeat before straightening along with a deep breath. Brave determination.

“It’ll work. It will. And then you’ll come back, and magic will come back, and I’ll be able to heal you.” She settled her hand along his jaw, her thumb stroking his cheek. “Promise me you believe that?”

“I…” He averted his eyes, unable to watch her face. “I dare not. Optimism is a dangerous thing to bring into the Master’s presence. I’m sorry, love. You’ll have to carry enough for the both of us.”

She did not speak for the longest time. But then she wrapped his hand in hers and gave it a tight squeeze. “Okay, Killian. Consider it done.”

He looked back at her, and saw that her eyes glistened just as much as his. Desperately, she lunged forward and possessed him with her kiss. And this one, he was allowed to feel. Because this was goodbye, and goodbye could mean forever, and that hurt so much worse than any stab of a knife or pinch of a claw ever could.

Emma was the first to break away. She startled back so fast that Killian sucked too deep a breath and found himself clutching sore ribs. Then he heard the faint buzz of her phone. She pulled it out of her pocket and read the screen with dismay.

“Crap, we only have like thirty seconds until the ten minutes are up. How are we getting you out of here?”

Killian’s sense of time was undeniably muzzy due to the drugs in his system; he would have sworn that no more than three or four minutes had elapsed. “You’ll have to stall them, Swan, unless you care to carry my unconscious self to the forest’s edge.”

Emma cursed again. “Pretend to be asleep.”

Well, that wouldn’t be too hard; the challenge would be remaining alert enough to pay attention to whatever she devised as cover. Closing his eyes, he settled back and worked to slow his heart.

He heard footsteps and then a quiet,

“How’s it going in here?”

Detective Jones. Emma sighed.

“Seemed like we were starting to get somewhere, but he was just so tired. I told him he could rest for a little while and try again later.”

One set of footsteps drew closer, and then the IV tubing lying across his arm was jiggling slightly.

“What’s that?” Emma asked casually, but Killian could detect a note of alarm.

“Dr. Whale prescribed a sedative,” explained the nurse, and Killian cursed inwardly. Maybe it really would come down to Emma having to carry him out.

“Hold on a sec. Please? Could you come back in, say, an hour? He’s sleeping without it right now, and I need to be able to wake him up in a bit to finish his questioning.”

“This isn’t like anesthesia,” soothed the nurse. “He’ll have periods of wakefulness still; it just helps him to sleep more soundly.”

“Yeah, but… he’ll be… super drowsy when he is awake, right? Couldn’t that make it harder to think clearly?”

The nurse paused. “I’m sorry, but it’s doctor’s orders… he's really most insistent.”

“Would one measly hour make that much of a difference?”

During the long silence that followed, Killian waited with bated breath, trying to continue the charade of slumber. Finally, the nurse said,

“I can give it IM, which takes longer to metabolize. He’ll get the required meds, and you’ll get your questioning time.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back--have to get a different needle.”

Killian heard her shuffle away as the IV swung to a halt. He felt Emma brush her hand along his arm, probably in silent apology. The drug would complicate things, for certain, but wouldn't truly be anything his Master would be suspicious of. It knew of his capture, and probably even his arrival at the hospital. It would likely be pleased at his escape and return, even if he did have to collapse and sleep it off halfway back to its lair.

“Has he said anything of value?” wondered Jones.

“Well… not really. Nothing we didn’t already know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Gently, trying to appear as if she didn’t want to wake him, Emma wriggled her hand beneath Killian’s. Then she sighed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Detective, but you look awful.”

Killian heard a familiar, rueful breath of laughter.

“Who would believe that nearly all of it could be attributed to that man there?”

Emma snickered back. “He’s a fighter, that’s for sure.”

Over the sound of the nurse’s returning footsteps, Emma added,

“Look, I appreciate the support, Killian, but you don’t have to stay. Go home; get some sleep. I’ll pass on any information I get here.”

The nurse folded back the blanket covering Killian’s right leg, and he growled faintly in feigned, sleepy annoyance, while truly wondering what the hell she was playing at. When she’d said ‘IM,’ he’d been expecting a jab in the arm. Meanwhile, Jones was responding to Emma’s suggestion.

“Thank you, Emma, but I’d like to stay. An extra set of ears can sometimes make all the difference in a case like this.”

Emma was thinking furiously; Killian could tell. Startled by the cold touch of an alcohol wipe on his outer thigh, his grumbling flinch was not at all an act.

“Sorry, Killian,” murmured the nurse. She pinched the muscle with one hand, adding, “Quick little mosquito bite, and you can go back to sleep.”

Emma squeezed his hand in solidarity, placing the other hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. The long needle stung his thigh, the sedative drug forming an aching pool within the muscle.

“At least go have something to eat,” Emma urged Jones. “I’ll call you and you can listen in if he starts talking.”

Plucking the needle from Killian’s throbbing leg, the nurse spread a Band-Aid over the sore spot. “All done.”

While she rearranged the blankets, Emma asked casually,

“You wouldn’t happen to have a couple extra Band-Aids with you, would you? I've got some hangnails annoying the hell out of me right now.”

“Lemme see… yup, here you go!”

“Thanks.” Emma’s hand left his shoulder, presumably to take the proffered bandages.

“I’ll be back in probably an hour to check on him,” promised the nurse. “In the meantime, if you notice anything unusual, don’t hesitate to press the call button.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

She bustled out of the room, taking her damn needle with her. Emma patted Killian’s shoulder in sympathy.

“Suppose I might at least get something to drink, if I can manage my wallet with numb fingers.”

Killian could hear the sheepish smile on Jones’ face as he said the words, and he tried not to cringe. He’d done his best not to injure the other man too severely, but still felt remorseful about what had been necessary.

“Good luck,” Emma replied. “See you in a bit.”

As soon as Jones’ footsteps had retreated, Emma sat back with a sigh. “Well, that sucked. Sorry, Killian.”

Killian stretched gently and dragged his eyes open, blinking. Emma winced at him.

“Are you still going to be able to make it?” She seemed to be doing what he was: acting as if they didn’t know anything about what lay in store for him at the end of his trek. He nodded unenthusiastically. In truth, if he ignored the drug side effects, he actually did feel stronger than he had in weeks, which he credited to whatever volume of replacement blood he’d received so far.

“Hopefully at least beyond the point of rediscovery.”

Emma pulled back his blankets. “I’ll do what I can to put ‘em on the wrong track.” She reached into her pocket, retrieving her keys. “Why don’t you take the Bug? You’ll get farther. Just… you know. Pull over well before you start to fall asleep.”

Fighting the sudden chill, Killian accepted the keys as he gathered the strength required to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. His head was spinning alarmingly and he wondered for a moment whether he would need to reassess the distance he had in him. Emma studied the machine controlling the flow of donor blood and saline into his arm; after a moment, she was able to decipher how to pause its program. Setting aside one of the Band-Aids she’d begged off the nurse, Emma reached for the tape securing the catheter to his forearm. Then she stopped.

“Emma?”

A sudden sob ripped through her; she put a hand to her mouth as if stifling a cough. She couldn’t look at him.

Grim, Killian glanced a the door. “We don’t have a lot of time, love.”

She scrubbed at her eyes with one hand while picking at the corner of the tape with the other. “It’s… it’s just different, you know? Talking about it versus actually doing it. Actually helping you ditch the hospital and go back to--”

Choked by another sob, she didn’t finish the thought. Killian reached up to clasp her wrist briefly before allowing her to continue to work.

“I know.”

She managed to get one side of the tape undone with the minimal amount of arm hairs as casualties. “It just feels like… if you don’t come back… this is me, killing you, right now. Taking out this IV that could be saving your life, it’s just the same as…”

Emma shuddered, and Killian knew she was picturing that awful night with Excalibur, on the banks of the river. How it felt to run him through with her own hands. As if trying to purge the memory, she violently stripped the remaining tape from his arm, pulling the catheter right along with it and spattering small droplets of blood everywhere. Killian sat passively, allowing the outburst. For the moment.

In anger, Emma crumpled the sticky tape and tossed the wad onto the floor, then used the bedsheet to scrub at the smear of blood gathering around the puncture site. She tore open a Band-Aid and pressed it in place with a shuddering sigh.

“Don't be concerned about the silly IV; my good friend Z seems to have an unlimited supply of the damn things.”

It wasn’t about the IV, of course. Nor even the concept of proper medical care as a whole. Killian pulled his arm away from her attempts to apply pressure over the Band-Aid and reached up to stroke her face. The rough brand scar on his palm caused a tiny wince from her as it brushed her cheek.

“It isn’t you,” he murmured. “It won’t be you.”

Silent, she watched his face. Unconvinced. Unplacated. She pressed his hand deeper into her flesh and raked him with her gaze, as if burning his features and new, unfamiliar scars into her memory. He saw the moment of surrender. The light left her eyes and they became cold, tired points of vacuum. Outer space without stars. At last, her voice came through the death mask, low and flat.

“Why us?”

A shade above bitter, Killian said,

“We’re the heroes.”

A somber, unsurprised nod, and then Emma was back in motion. But with inexplicable intent. Killian couldn’t contain the elevating eyebrow as she shed her jacket and prepared to lift her t-shirt. She waved her hand in vague explanation.

“I don’t know how most of this crap works. But if it turns off suddenly, or loses input, it might alert the nurse’s station, and we don’t want that, right? So we switch, as fast as we can. Hopefully we can set it up reading me, and they’ll think you just rolled over or something.”

Glancing down at the EKG leads attached to his chest, Killian’s skeptical expression didn’t change. “And I’m meant to have thought of this myself, am I?”

“You’re smarter than you look.”

He missed the normal playful tone with which she would have teased him. But she was still stiff, heartless, carefully on guard. Ready now, the t-shirt rolled up and tucked under her chin but with her arms still in their sleeves, she sat beside him. Testing the slack in the wires, she took a breath and frowned in concentration.

“Lemme do it,” she instructed quietly. “You just keep an eye on the door.”

Killian nodded and did as ordered, but watched out of the corner of his eye. Emma dug her nails beneath the first EKG lead, and he knew she was attempting to take as much of the sticky conducting gel with it to ensure a solid connection. She paused to estimate the proper placement on her own chest--right in the center above the sternum--then brutally ripped the pad off of him and slapped it on herself. The loss of a few chest hairs left stinging patches behind as Emma repeated the process twice more. Successfully, by the sound of it: the machine behind them beeped a couple of queries as the transfer took place, but no obnoxious alarm rent the afternoon stillness.

“Not bad, Swan,” Killian praised. He ducked out of the way of the gathered leads while Emma adjusted her shirt back down and checked the monitor for functionality.

“The question will be whether I can stand pretending to be unconscious until someone discovers me.” Emma reached up, unclipped the pulse oximeter from his earlobe, and clamped it onto her own. She made a face. “Think I prefer the fingertip one.”

“Aye, well, it does tend to get in the way when one has only five fingers at one’s disposal.”

The last piece of equipment was the blood pressure cuff, which was easy enough to slip off and then adjust to fit her bicep. And then Killian was free.

He stood with appropriate caution, but still nearly fell--twice--as vertigo, generalized weakness, and drug side effects played havoc with his balance. Emma watched with clenched teeth, no doubt struggling with the urge to tackle him and wrestle him back into bed, the rest of the world be damned. But she contained herself, he clung stubbornly to his equilibrium, and they were again faced with the reality of the moment. Cautiously, Emma got up, holding the EKG sensors in place. She assessed him briefly, cracks in the emotionless mask allowing both tender concern and raging terror to leak

“You gonna be okay, hiking in that?”

Killian glanced down at his gown with a shrug. “It’s no worse than the sackcloth.”

“And… your feet? What about…” She trailed off, and against his better judgment, Killian stepped forward and wrapped her in an embrace. For the sake of his Master, though, he kept his mind on the goodbye, on his concern for Emma. On that disturbing mantra. Hope kidnapped, Hope tortured, Hope dead... Muffled into his chest came the words they both dreaded:

“You’d better go.”

Emma was dry-eyed and tight-lipped as she stepped back from him. He turned toward the window. And neither of them said what was foremost in their hearts.

I love you.

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #wish realm killian #hospital #injured #transfusion #injection #sedation #deception #angst #not really a cliffhanger but doesn't resolve the one from last week either sorry #Vocivore ltd #medical nonsense #just go with it okay?#hehe

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