#like really ill just laugh jovially as i make my way to press that block button

[pesto-dad-aesthetic]

DAE REMEMBER

That one time trans communities were exposed by journalists to have decades of history systemically covering up hundreds of sexually abusive acts towards women/minors?

Oh...wait...my b...

That was the Catholic and Southern Baptist churches...

Where do I sign the petition to KEEP -ACTUAL- SEXUAL PREDATORS THE FUCK OUT OF PUBLIC RESTROOMS?

[ghastily]

✎ — Gravity (2/??)

➥   Wolfpack x Reader | 3741 | Ao3

⚠️  Panic Attack

Life is hard, sometimes it rewards you with three boyfriends for your efforts.

You’re nearly asleep on Boost’s chest when Sinker finally comes home.

In your haste to get up you accidentally elbow Boost in the stomach and he lets out a loud ‘oof’. A quick kiss on the cheek in apology and you’re up and bolting for the door. You throw your arms around Sinker's neck as soon as he steps inside the door, clinging tightly to him. He laughs, and maneuvers a large duffel bag out of the way, with a free hand Sinker reaches up to cup the back of your head, and leans down to claim your lips with his own. It’s painfully short and not nearly enough, and you greedily chase after him when he ends the kiss.

“Well, hello to you too.” He teases, releasing you and letting his hand fall away from your head and back to his side. You’re a tiny bit embarrassed, trying to settle down, “Sorry. I just.. Kind of missed you?”

Sinker’s gaze is soft and full of affection, “Don't be. I missed you too.”

Boost comes up behind you, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I missed you too!” Boost puckers up and bats his eyes, making loud kissy noises. Sinker smirks and flicks his brother’s forehead, their antics make you laugh and lean back into Boost’s chest as he whines and rubs his forehead.

“Yeah? I’ll give you a kiss with this fist,” Sinker shakes a clenched hand in his brother’s face, “Come help me with this, Boost. Got us some civvies.” He pats the duffel bag, maneuvering around the two of you and heading for the bedroom.

“I’ll heat up some leftovers while you get comfy, Sinker.” You gently pry yourself out of Boost's grip, much to his displeasure, and plant a kiss on his cheek to pacify him. He pouts and follows after his brother.

You watch the two bicker as they make their way down the hallway and into your bedroom. Something had been feeling off recently, but neither of the guys had mentioned anything lately. Sinker and Boost were as affectionate and jovial as ever but sometimes, when they thought you weren’t looking, there was tension and worry in their faces.

They were soldiers and there was a war going on, they had every reason to be on edge sometimes. Maybe it was nothing and you were just overthinking it, either way you decide you’ll ask them about it later if only just to clear the air. You shake your head and let out a heavy sigh as you head over to the kitchen, loading a plate up with left-overs and warming it up. Nothing worse than cold food.

You make your way over to the sofa and get comfortable once you're done. The guys return a few minutes later as you’re flipping through channels on the holovision. If they were handsome in their gear, they were even more handsome in the loose, dull colored, and insanely comfortable looking civilian clothes. They looked more like people and not just tools of war, and thought only made your heart ache more for them.

The clones deserved so much better.

Boost drops down onto the sofa beside you, stretching his arm over the back and behind you. You smile and snuggle into his side, nestling your head against his shoulder. He smiles and tilts his head, pressing his lips into your hair. He’s so warm and things are peaceful, quiet aside from the show that’s playing on the holovision. Sinker takes the plate you left for him and eats his dinner at the small table in the kitchen. You wait until he’s done eating to bring up what’s been bothering you.

“We want to—”

“So, is everyth—” You begin and quickly stop as your voice overlaps Sinker’s. The two of look at each other in surprise. Boost, the jerk, cackles.

You lightly elbow him in the side.

“You first.” Sinker sets his plate down in the sink and goes to where you and Boost are sitting. Carefully, he tests the strength of the coffee table with his hand before perching on the edge of it so he can face you — and most likely block Booster’s view of the holovision.

“It’s nothing really,” Boost tries to kick his brother in the shin, you place a hand on Boost’s knee in hopes he’ll settle down, “Just lately you guys seem to have something on your mind? Is.. Uh, is everything ok? It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it or whatever, I just—”

Sinker grabs your hand from Boost’s knee, stopping you mid-ramble.

“Yeah, there is.” Boost sighs and you glance over at him, watching him run a hand over his head, “And we’re glad you asked cause we weren't sure how to bring it up with you.”

So there was something wrong.

There’s an intense silence, most likely everyone waiting for the other to speak before Sinker finally gives in and goes first. “This won’t change anything between us, ok?”

He squeezes your hand and your heart sinks. It’s about your relationship then.

“It’s, uh, usually not just the two of us.” Sinker swallows thickly, clearly nervous but here goes nothing, “There’s three of us. Commander Wolffe. We’ve been through a lot together and.. He knows about this, us, but he’s being difficult.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and sigh.

Boost jumps in, quick to reassure you of where you feared this conversation was heading. “We like you and whether he’s in it or not, we wanna keep this going.”

They weren't breaking up with you and that’s.. A little better, you suppose. The potential addition of Wolffe though makes your head spin. Sinker looks at you in concern, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of your hand.

“So,” He begins softly, “We realized we hadn’t told you about that, and we wanted to know how you felt it. If you'd be okay with Wolffe too.”

You weren’t sure. You had barely managed a relationship with one person before much less two at the same time. Stranger things have happened though, you never expected Sinker and Boost to barge into your life either — so what was one more.

You open your eyes to see their worried faces staring intently at you. A soft breath escapes you, “This is new for me. I’ve never been in a relationship like this before.. but I’m willing to try if Wolffe is. I really like you both too and I don’t want this to end..”

The two troopers look relieved. You can't help but smile a bit, watching Sinker and Boost exchange happy smiles of their own. Apparently they had been expecting a much worse reaction.

You interlace your fingers with Sinker’s, affectionately squeezing his hand. “So, tell me about this Commander Wolffe.”

Their faces light up in delight, and for a moment there may have been a mischievous glint in their eyes. Sinker settles onto the sofa on your other side, eliciting a squeak from you as you’re squished between him and his brother. With everyone’s worry eased, you spend the rest of the evening listening to the guys tell you wild stories of their favorite missions involving Wolffe.

The following days are blissful and easy-going, no garbage launcher mishaps, nor were there any fights in or around the diner. It was strangely peaceful and you were honestly starting to feel a bit on edge, it was like a calm before the storm and you were just waiting for the chaos to rain down.

And rain down it did.

It was still dark when you woke up, rain pelting against the window just above your bed. You sigh and roll into the spot where Sinker usually slept only to find a fading warmth in its place. The guys must have recently left for the barracks, which means you need to get up and leave for work soon too.

Ugh. So much for sleepy, rainy morning cuddles.

You pout and roll out of bed to prepare for the day. The rain began to pick up when you were leaving, turning into an outright tsunami by the time you arrive at work. You were ill-prepared for the rain to go sideways but you weren't about to let a little rain sour your mood. Thank the Stars you had the foresight to keep an extra pair of clothes at the diner, initially for any food related mishaps but now was as good as time as any to bust them out of your locker.

Except it’s been a while since you dropped these clothes off, and the pants fit a little too snugly around your middle and digs into your stomach. You sigh loudly, frustrated, and suck in your gut. Hopefully no one will notice once you put an apron on.

This sucks.

The rest of the day is remarkably uneventful, not many people were going to be out in this bad weather but you can’t shake this odd feeling of being watched. You look through the window into the dining area a few times hoping to catch whoever may be looking, a few times you even thought you saw Sinker or Boost sitting at a booth. It couldn't be though, since your guys never came in through the front and would always greet you.

You finish drying a plate, setting it aside and smile to yourself remembering all the times they’d come over and kiss you. It made your heart flutter with just how much you loved them.

“Oho, thinking of something dirty?” Harmony’s teases, leaning through the window as she typically does when she’s not swamped. Your cheeks burn, and you hastily turn your back to her untying your apron. “I am not!”

Harmony hums, folding her hands under her chin and watches you fuss about the kitchen, preparing to leave now that the diner was closing for the day. “There were two clones here today, one kept ordering caf so I couldn’t kick him out.”

“Oh yeah?” You try and pretend you’re not interested, hanging up your apron by the sink. But you are definitely curious, especially if it involves the clone troopers. They rarely come around CoCo Town except for Sinker and Boost.

“Yup!” Harmony pops the p at the end and smiles, “Well, the cute blonde one left earlier, totally my type by the way, but the other one stayed. He was missing an eye, all broody and grumpy looking. Kept giving FLO these nasty looks—”

Wow, did Harmony always talk this much?

“Wait, you said he’s missing an eye?” You cut in, causing Harmony to pause long enough to nod before picking up where she left off. You frown. Sinker and Boost had told you that the most distinctive feature that set Wolffe apart from the others was his missing eye.

Then the eyes you felt on you all day, could it have been Wolffe? A million questions raced through your mind; was he evaluating you? Maybe Sinker and Boost had finally convinced him to talk to you, or was he determining if you are a security risk? Why didn’t he just ask for you?

Stop.

Worrying like that wasn’t going to help, Sinker and Boost said they would stay with you no matter what. You took a deep breath and chased the whirlwind of thoughts away. Everything was fine. You’re fine.

“I’m heading out now,” You smile at Harmony, and she pouts. It makes you feel a little guilty for not paying attention, you resolve to make it up to her in the future. Maybe with a cake. You grab your clothes from this morning and head for the back door, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harmony! Good night, Dex!”

“Be careful!” Dex calls out, nearly drowning out Harmony’s little ‘byyyeee’.

It’s a small blessing that the rain has finally let up as you step outside, now just a gentle shower rather than the downpour it had been during the day. The only downside was that it was dark. Darker than it usually is when you go home. You clutch the folded clothes tightly to your chest and take a deep breath, beginning the familiar trek home.

You’re almost half way home when you feel someone staring again. This time though it deeply unsettles you, and the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It feels malicious . You start to walk a little faster, scanning the area around you for someone, anyone, who might be following you. That’s when you hear it — footsteps behind you, matching your pace and everything inside of you screams.

Then you're running, heart in your throat and adrenaline spurring you on. Whoever is behind you takes off after you, you can hear the sound of their feet smacking puddles behind you. The world around you blurs, there's not another person out at this hour, not in this rain. No one that would actually care enough to intervene anyway. You aren’t even sure where you are any more but something inside of you says go home — where it’s safe.

You can feel the person behind you get closer, so you make a sharp turn down an alley, shoes sliding on the wet street. A decision you instantly regret as you begin to lose your footing, only to feel someone’s hand grip your upper arm, pulling you back up. A scream is caught in your throat, out of the corner of your eye you see familiar white armor rushing past. You stumble to your feet, unsteady and swaying, finally looking behind you.

And just like that the threat was gone. Wide-eyed, you watch a trooper with blue markings easily disarm a Rodian, twisting his arms back, and slapping a pair of stasis cuffs on him. The two yell at each other but you can’t make out a word of it with how loud your heart is pounding, it feels like it might explode. You don’t even hear the expletives coming out of the Rodian as he’s hauled away.

The trooper that stopped you from falling stays at your side. You recognize the gray markings and instantly you feel a wave of relief flow over you. Those are Wolfpack markings, you lean in closer hoping it was perhaps Sinker or Boost. You stop when his face is illuminated by the lights and you spot the false eye — it’s Wolffe.

“I’ll drop him off for Fox to deal with.” The other trooper announces and Wolffe nods. He looks over at you, a trembling and shaking nervous wreck. No doubt your face flushed red and panic stricken.

“Breathe.” He commands, and you do, loudly, gasping as your knees finally give out from under you. Your lungs burn and your entire body feels like jello, weak, and not doing anything you want it to do. Wolffe catches you easily once again, grasping under your arms and hauling you back onto your feet. You lean heavily against him, oblivious to the way he gently grips your sides to keep you steady.

“When you’re ready, I’ll walk you home.”

You nod, lips quivering with the urge to cry. You really didn’t want to, not in front of Wolffe, but when you press your forehead against the cool plastoid of his armor you can’t hold it back. Today had been rough, and that had been too much.

True to his word, Wolffe walks you home at a slow and steady pace.

You've never been so happy to see the dumpster that guards the front door to your place before. You also never thought you’d look at the dumpster and think home and safety either yet here you were, shakily unlocking the door and letting Wolffe guide you inside. His presence helped calm and soothe your frayed nerves on the way home, but you were still a little unsteady and uncoordinated. Wolffe easily maneuvers you around the coffee table in the pitch blackness of your home, and eases you down on the sofa.

“Let go.”

Huh?

You blink at the gentle command, unsure of what Wolffe means until he gestures at the clothes that you’re clutching so tightly to your chest that your knuckles have gone pale. You mumble a soft ‘oh’ before letting go and Wolffe gently removes the crumbled clothes from your grasp, setting them down on the coffee table. You flex and stretch your fingers, feeling the aching stiffness in each one. Wow, just how hard were you digging your fingers in?

“Do you want me to stay?” Wolffe ask softly, and you nod quickly without hesitation.

And he just stands there in front of you, not making any attempts to move or do anything at all really. It’s too dark but that doesn’t stop you from staring up at him, although it’s so dark you can barely make out the features of his face, he’s unbearably handsome. You find that your heart is beating a little faster now for an entirely different reason.

“Um, wanna sit?” You pat the empty space next to you. Wolffe just stares at you for a moment longer before seemingly giving in and sitting beside you. The side of your thigh presses against his armor clad one, and it makes you feel a little nervous. You feel like a teenager again on a first date trying to see how far you could go with physical contact. It’s like you weren't even terrified and running for your life just moments ago.

“Sinker and Boost talk about you a lot,” Wolffe begins to speak and you look at him curiously, “And I’m sure one of them has informed you of our situation?”

You nod. Sinker explained it a little more in depth to you later that night after he and Boost told you about Wolffe. They were the only survivors of their original squad and through all the hardships of war their bonds grew deeper — it was never romantic but it was something. Something they didn’t have a label for but whatever it was, wasn't that unusual for clones to experience. Sinker mentioned, for example, that Fives and Echo are just as close as they were.

“Did they tell you why I wasn’t getting involved?” You shake your head. It never crossed your mind that Wolffe may have a reason to avoid you aside from just not liking you. You see him take a deep breath before he speaks again, “We had tried this before and it didn’t work out, it just made everything difficult.”

“Wolffe..”

“They would throw a fit and ignore us every time we left for duty, got jealous and would try to make us pick sides, pitting us against one another,” He lets out a frustrated growl and clenches his fists, you wanted so badly to reach out and soothe him, “I’m not going to let that happen again.”

“Wolffe, I didn’t know. This whole relationship, dating more than one person, is new to me, and I’m surely going to make mistakes.” You let out a soft sigh, nothing felt like the right thing to say but you felt that you needed to, “Sinker and Boost make me happy.. I want them to be happy too, and that includes you Wolffe. You don’t have to like me the same way they do, but it would be nice if we could be on good terms—”

There you go, anxiously rambling again but Wolffe’s words stop you in your tracks, “Let’s go on a date.”

HUH?

This is not a conversation to have in the dark, you need to see his face, to hear him say it again so you know you aren’t just imagining it. You clap your hands loudly and the lights come on, temporarily blinding both of you with the sudden flood of bright light. “A date? You want to go on a date?”

Wolffe, once he can see again, turns to stare at you like you've suddenly sprouted a second head, and maybe a few extra limbs. He points at the ceiling, “You have clap activated lights?”

You’re almost offended by the sheer look of disbelief on his face, “That's not important right now!”

He claps his hands and the lights turn off, shrouding you both in darkness again. You can hear him trying to muffle a laugh, so deep and warm that you want to make him as laugh as much as possible in the future — but not right now, you're trying to be mad at him. You grab one of the pillows on the sofa and smack his shoulder, at least you think it’s his shoulder.

“Don’t laugh at me! Asshole!” You squeak.

“I can't..” Wolffe hides a smile behind his hand, taking a deep breath to collect himself. “You need to tell me why you even have these lights.”

You collapse back into the sofa with a pout, “Look. Harmony installed them when I first moved in, and they come in real handy when you’re sick on the sofa and don’t want to get up to turn them off or on! Don't judge me!”

Before anything more can be said the front door opens with a harsh woosh, startling both you and Wolffe. He's on his feet in a heartbeat with a hand on his weapon, prepared to draw. He lets out a relieved sigh when he sees Sinker and Boost stumble through the door, elbowing each other when they briefly get stuck trying to enter at the same time.

Sinker slams his palm into the light switch on the wall, and the lights come back on. The two clones are momentarily caught off guard to see their Commander standing in front of you, but it doesn’t stop them from dodging around him to get to you. They're firing off a million questions a minute, checking you over for any injuries.

“Guys!” You hold up your hands, “I’m not hurt. Just.. Shaken up.”

The pair look like they don’t believe you, their brows are drawn together in worry. Your cheeks burn under the intense scrutiny of their gazes, touched that they cared so much for you. You reach up to wrap an arm over their shoulders, pulling the guys into a hug. Boost leans in easily, burying his face against your neck. Sinker’s cheek presses against yours as he twists an arm around you to hug you in return, tightly clutching the back of your damp shirt.

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 56- Let’s Get Down to Business

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

Totally inspired by Mulan, both Red and my favorite disney princess! All the minesonas are together, the hermits are here, and the battlefield is ready! Just one last bit of red angst, brought to you by JoeHills

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Mentioned: Pierre belongs to @cabbagesenpai​ , Star belongs to @thatonewannabedragon​ , Bre belongs to @mintyhotchocolate​ . (If there are any others i missed let me know! Credit where credit’s due!)

Morning sunlight rises over the tents and small cabins within the battlefield. Not much after the sun has fully appeared over the horizon, black wings jet across the camp- followed by a second smaller pair of wings. 

Red groans, wishing Avon had never found that damned bell she has. “Wake up everyone! We need to get as much training in, we never know when the hellspawns will arrive!” 

“I was the best fighter ever seen in any world, I don’t need training.” Etho groans, face dragging along the ground as Avon pulls him by the feet out of his tent. 

“Key word ‘was’. Let’s see if that still stands.” Avon chuckles, tossing his feet to the ground and joining Ecto on the dunes. The two clasp hands, pulling each other into a half hug. The warriors share a moment of silent conversation in their eyes, enemies turned friends. And now friends turned generals of a small army. 

“A stick? That’s a pretty dinky weapon, man.” Mumbo looks at the staff Ecto hands him. 

“Ugh, again with the weird english words.” Iskall hisses, thwapping his friend in the ankles. Beside the other two architechs, Grian lets out a giggle at Mumbo’s pain. 

“I don’t trust giving any of you a weapon in our world.” Ecto mumbles, rolling her eyes and handing off a staff to Ren. 

“Just like a lightsaber. Thanks dude!” Ren gives her a wink, spinning his staff and planting it into the sand. 

Avon pulls off her cloak, draping it over a cactus and getting a feel for her staff. It’s lighter than her trident, but it reminds her of her earlier days. Jessie flits off the warming desert sand, wrapping around her neck and curling her tail around her bicep. “Avon, I don’t think you made enough sticks for everyone. I don’t have one.” 

Ecto glances to the other wanderer, and both bite their lips. Avon avoids Red’s anxious gaze, the way he bounces on his feet to get to training. She looks anywhere else, fearful eyes meeting with Pierre, flitting to Star, before staring down Impulse. “Red… Ecto and I talked it over, and we aren’t sure you’re ready for the rage of war.” 

“Wha-what do you mean?” The entire desert gets quiet, everyone staring at the three. Making it even worse. “But I can fight! You saw it in the mansion, in the nether! I want to help you all!” 

“Red, we don’t want you to get hurt.” Ecto whispers. “This is more than just a woodland mansion, or even our botched infiltration to the nether. This is war.” 

“This is for the best, Red.” Avon pulls Jessie off her shoulder, plopping the dragonet into Red’s open arms. “Just… try to stay out of trouble. Stay safe, okay?” 

Avon and Ecto turn away, yelling for the hermits and other fighters to begin sparring. To get back to business. Red backs away, sniffling as she tries to keep her tears from catching the sunlight. Is she really that useless? That her own best friends would rather she stay out of their way? Stay out of trouble? Jessie chirps, purple tongue lapping at Red’s warm tears. 

He turns away, feet slipping as he runs across the sand. Away from the army, into the campground, tripping over stakes and vines. He collapses into a pit of water, Jessie floundering to the surface as Red sinks lower. Feeling warm tears sting and mix with the water. Salt against fresh. 

Red thought he was a part of the team. A part of this all. That he wasn’t useless to them, to anyone anymore. He could be a friend, a part of this battle. To get justice, make the nether pay for Mama Gummi’s death. But he’s been sidelined. Too weak, too useless. He was an idiot to think that he was anything but that. He should just stay out of trouble. Always out of trouble- that’s all that caused this anyways. 

He’s not sure how long he’s underwater, curled in a tiny fish ball. Jessie had crawled out, but he could see her curled up in the sun. Laying in the grass just above him. Even Jessie will eventually be something more. More than just a baby. She’ll grow into a massive dragon, with firebreathing and massive claws and wings. She’ll be useful. Red flinches when a hand taps his shoulder, peeking from over his shoulder. 

A hermit has his head shoved underwater, glasses floating away from the bridge of his nose. His hand opens, inviting for Red to take it. And for some reason, Red does. Something about his face, his calm smile and jovial eyes eases Red from his wallowing.

“You’ve got quite the lung capacity to stay under there.” The hermit hauls Red out of the water, plopping her onto the grass beside Jessie. 

“I can breathe underwater. It’s not that incredible.” Red mumbles, not willing to meet his eyes. 

“I dunno, that’s pretty sweet in my mind. I’m Joe Hills. My friends just call me Joe.” He offers a hand, his other reaching out and petting Jessie. The dragon chirps, pressing into his palm like a kitten. 

“Red. Why aren’t you training with the others?” Joe stands up, and Red follows him. He isn’t sure why, but Joe just exudes a feeling of comfort, easy and friendly. Standing near Joe alone makes Red’s spirits rise.

“I’m not really the kind of person to fight with weapons. I’m more of a ‘pen is mightier than the sword’ kind of guy. What better way to beat your enemies into submission than with a damning remark on their ill actions towards the safekeeping and prosperous balance that nature provides us?” Joe summits a rise in the plain, plopping down on the grass. Red sits down beside him.

“I think I understood about half of those words, Joe.” The two look out across the battlefield. The training has split off. Some remain with Avon, working on strategy and further practice with fighting. Others have spread across the field, Ecto traveling between groups as they build up traps. Bre works with Stress, setting up potion dispensers. Pierre and Etho play with fire charges.

“Hey Impulse can you help me test this redstone trap?” Tango waves his friend over to the other side of the forest. Impulse takes off from the campground below where Red and Joe sit, watching the work. 

Red isn’t really keen on this whole fighting thing, but she understands that all attempts to talk have faltered. But she asked for the traps to be survivable. Maybe if the hellspawns see that a battle will cause harm, they’ll stop. It’s her hope, at least. But just another thing he can’t do right. He can’t even kill right. She sits, watching Tango explain the setup to Impulse. Tango is covered with redstone, the same color as his red eyes. Impulse was working with water, so he’s a little cleaner. Both laugh, and a glint of something metal appears in Impulse’s hand. 

Red squints to see what it is, but Impulse disappears from view. The ground beneath him has dropped away, and black vapors escape the pit. His head only reappears as he jumps around within the trap. “Is that…?” 

“Wither roses. Quite a poetic flower, I must say. So beautiful and delicate. Yet so...deadly.” Joe hardly looks up from his notes on the field. Red can’t take his eyes off of Impulse. His veins turn black as the wither roses deliver the sickness, and he grabs onto a ladder that was set above the trap, pale hands shaking as he climbs out. He still clutches whatever’s in his hand. 

“He looks like he’s not going to make it!” Red stands, realizing that Impulse is covered in wounds. The wither races across his body, penetrating into his heart and lungs. And the entire time, Tango can hardly breathe. Not from fear. Tango is laughing so loud Red can hear it from the hill he’s atop. Impulse’s writhing stops, but Tango’s cackles don’t. Horror etches across Red’s face as he realizes what’s happened. What kind of sick friend laughs as their friend perishes from wither sickness? Why would Tango not help him? 

A loud crack echoes from the forest, forcing Red to cover his ears and cringe. Joe doesn’t even flinch, used to the crackling noise. He glances over his glasses, seeing the horror on Red’s face be replaced by confusion. 

Impulse is standing up, brushing wither vapors off his shorts and playfully nudging Tango. Tango’s now on the ground, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. Red wipes her eyes, blinking away the tears as if that was causing her to see things. “What happened? How is he alive?” 

“We’re all carrying totems of Undying. Once Xisuma warned us that there’s no respawn in your world, we all keep them around.” Joe pushes his glasses up his nose. “Do you not know what a totem of undying is?” 

Red shakes his head, and looks back at the pair. Impulse and Tango are looking at the trap that just killed the former, smiling quite proudly at the redstone work. He can see a glint of gold, covering Impulse’s cheek where a thorn had scratched him. The trap is deadly, but it’s possible to escape. Impulse closes it up, so no one else falls in for now. “What is a totem of undying?” 

“You’ve been carrying one around the whole time.” Joe points the feather end of his quill to Red’s backpack. Pointing at the golden statue, haphazardly tied onto the straps like a knick knack. Red sits down, plucking Fred off his string. Running his fingers across the smooth gold, ringing the emerald eyes. “When the holder’s heart stops beating, their soul perishing, it activates the totem. It breaks apart, and the magic instilled in the metal brings them back from death, gold melting into their wounds and healing them. It’s quite a beautiful sight to see up close.” 

Red’s lips form a thin line. Scar gave him this. Why did Scar think he’d need this, or was it a precautionary measure? The idea of having to use such a tool scares Red. But now, he just wants to keep it with him at all times. Red tucks the totem into the pocket of his vest. Just in case. “I’m not going to die. I’m not going to use this. I’m not useless.” 

“You should prove that to your friends. Look across this battlefield, little fish. What’s something we’re missing?” Joe lays out his journal, showing the map of the field. 

Reds eyes look around, noting the traps and offensive moves. His mind remembers something that Blu said, long ago. When they first met the hellspawn. “I’m the most dangerous. But why?” 

He watches a drop of water fall from his hair, quickly drying in the sun. The nether is the realm of fire. The hellspawns are made of fire, of lava and magma. Red remembers the way Blu recoiled from the blast of water that night. The steam and crackling of Endo when he washed over her with a wave. “Water. I can stop them with water! I can defend us all...with water!” 

Joe looks up, grinning as he gazes over his glasses. “And you can do it in a less deadly way than any of their blades of blasts can. You aren’t useless, and I don’t think your friends feel that way either. You just haven’t embraced the strongest side of you.” He nods to where Ecto and Avon are training together, using fire charges to simulate hellfire. 

“Thank you, Mr. Joe Hills!” Red leaps from the hill, running down and through the campground. “I won’t forget this!” 

Red feels the wind brush through his hair, feet pounding across the ground. As joyous and determined as he ever felt. His emotions take over, and soon he’s no longer running. He’s swimming, water pulsing across the grass with him. Easing him over the stakes that would trip him, the pits that would cause him to stumble. 

Crossing the battlefield, he raises ice walls, defending the hills and mounds that archers and fighters plan to make their stand upon. Moving water creates a trench, a moat around the campground, protecting them from all sides. Safe from attacks by land from the nether. Red hasn’t felt this much power, this much energy in his whole life. 

And he nears Ecto and Avon, struggling to defeat one another and avoid the hellfire surrounding them. Always dueling, equal matches for one another. Ecto shoves Avon backwards, and she narrowly avoids falling into fire by spreading her wings and flying. Avon tosses a fire charge, igniting the grass around Ecto. Trapping her. “You’ve been caught by the nether Ecto! Again!” 

Red lets out a holler, the water building up into a wave. The crest of the wave, and Red, comes crashing into the battle. Hellfire extinguishes into sputtering smoke, and both of the wanderers are swept off their feet. Red sees both of them look at her, and she snaps her fingers. “I won’t stay out of trouble. I am the eye of the storm. I am the trouble!” 

Dual whips of water lash out. Both Ecto and Avon narrowly avoid the strike, Avon blocking hers and Ecto dodging to the side. Both are shocked, glancing at one another before looking at Red. The three wanderers, the three friends, sharing a silent conversation without a word being spoken. Seeing the strength each has. The strength that makes them a team, that makes them friends. 

Red begins to laugh, followed by Ecto. And finally, a giggle bubbles free of Avon. Fire burns bright in all their eyes, and Avon launches her trident at Red. He easily blocks the attack, and deflects it towards Ecto. 

The wanderers duel, all three together. Playing like children, laughter ringing across the battlefield. No matter what happens, what the end of this war gives, they’re still together. They’re friends. Allies. 

Wanderers.

[lassluna]

Freeing the Witch (17/20)

Once Upon a Time, there was Emma Swan the Savior and Killian Jones the fearsome pirate Captain Hook. But this is not that time, this is not that place, this is the time of the Dark Swan and a cowardly Deckhand who dares to think he could save her and live to tell the tale…Especially when things get complicated.

Now Beta read by the lovely @notoriouscs

Ao3 Ffn

Chapter 17

The Hard Way

Telling Emma the truth, at least most of it, is both painful and liberating.

A part of him also figures that if someone, anyone really, knows his story, then perhaps his life won’t be in vain. If he can give Emma some understanding, some insight, before he eventually dies, then perhaps there will have been some meaning in his life. He just needs to get around to telling her the rest of his tale, about the poison, about Milah, about Bae.

Bloody hell will it hurt to tell her about Bae.

But now is not the time. He needs to wait until they’re alone to tell her the rest.

And they are very not alone right now. Now there are pirates on the ship, his ship. Not the Captain’s ship, not Liam’s. This is his bloody ship.

Killian Jones does not want pirates on his bloody ship.

“My business is with the Captain,” he shouts at the strange men on board, all of whom are leering disrespectfully at Elsa and Emma. Their lewd gazes make him tense, and he moves to block their views of the sorceresses. “And if you look at them once more, I swear they’ll be the last thing you ever see,” he growls raising his blade threateningly toward one of the men.

Their captain, a tall man with a large beard, steps forward.

A large black beard.

“Who the hell are you? I know the captain of this vessel, and it isn’t you, boy.”

Killian grimaces, but keeps his gaze level. These men feed on fear; they crave it. He is bloody terrified, but refuses to move a muscle.

“I’m the new owner,” he replies with a sneer. “So either get off my ship, or you and I are going to have a problem.”

The pirate captain eyes Killian carefully, scrunching his brow. “Hmm. Who are you? I remember you.”

Killian remembers him too. It’s hard to forget that voluminous black beard. He’d seen the man several times throughout the years he sailed with Liam. Killian often saw his brother with this pirate carousing in taverns, drinking their gold away. One particular incident stands out in his memory, even without a Jabberwocky forcing him to relive it.

“Now you, Captain Jones, know the important things in life,” the bearded pirate says as Liam throws back the liquor in his glass.

Usually Liam doesn’t let his little brother catch him at his “extracurricular activities,” but Killian had a nightmare and wants the comfort of his brother. So when he learned Liam went to town, thats just where Killian went to find him. He was either a brave 10 year old or a stupid one.

“Gold, rum and women,” the man laughs.

Liam nods in jovial agreement before turning and spotting Killian,

“Kill…” Liam slurs. “What – Who –“ He reaches for Killian, stumbling. The younger Jones has to reach up and keep his elder brother from falling over. It scares Killian how drunk Liam is. He’s never like this.

“I had a nightmare. Lizzie said you were here,” Killian explains quietly,it all feels like a stupid idea now.

“Liam? Who’s this?” a blonde woman asks, draping herself over Liam’s arm, looking slightly annoyed. She’s wearing too much makeup and blinking at Liam over and over, for some reason. “I’m ready for my night cap,” the woman announces to Liam, popping the p.

“Liam,” Killian says. “Let’s get out of here, please? Let’s go back to the Jolly.”

Liam looks dreamily at the blonde, running his hand through her hair. “Princess...” he slurs, pressing his nose into her neck. The woman giggles and pulls him closer, making sure he can’t see the glare she is shooting Killian.

“Liam!” Killian tries one last time.

The pirate with the black beard makes an irritated noise as he stands, towering over Killian.  Without any warning, the man hits him in the face. “He’s busy, boy. Make yourself scarce,” the brigand growls. “Can’t you see that your brother is occupied by important things? No time for little ungrateful brats,” he sneers, kicking Killian in the stomach. “You should learn by now that pirates don’t cry. They don’t run to their brothers because they’re scared of the dark.” He taunted.

Killian’s brother slides his hand under the lady’s shirt, paying no mind to the abused boy on the floor only a few feet away.

“Liam…” Killian whispers meekly before bolting back to his room on the Jolly, where he cries himself to sleep.

Killian straightens, mentally and physically squaring his shoulders. He isn’t that little kid anymore, and he intends to prove it. “Perhaps you’ve heard of my kin, Liam Jones.”

Both recognition and fear flash in the pirate captain’s eyes.

Killian laughs loudly. “Ah, so you do remember him,” he sneers. “My elder brother had quite the reputation on these seas.  Beat you within an inch of your life for laying a hand on his family, as I recall.”

“Killian? Elizabeth said you were feeling ill and had a nightmare last night?” Liam asks, knocking on his door the morning after the tavern debacle. Killian refuses to move from his corner of the room. He hadn’t wanted Elizabeth to see him cry, and he especially doesn’t want to cry in front of Liam.

“Killy?” Liam asks again, pushing the door open a fraction.

Killian hides his face under the covers. “Go away!” he yells, trying to keep tears from escaping yet again. He can’t help it. All Killian wanted last night was his big brother, his hero and protector, and Liam hadn’t cared, hadn’t even noticed when his friend hit his younger brother.

Despite his protests, he hears Liam’s quiet footsteps enter the room and feels him sit down beside him.

“Killian? What’s wrong, little brother? Are you ill again? Chills? Tummy ache?” he presses, pulling the blanket away.

Killian refuses to look at Liam but hears his gasp all the same.

“Oh Killian, what the bloody hell happened?”

Killian flinches away when his brother’s hand pushes against the dark bruise around his eye. “Leave me alone!” he snaps, He isn’t going to cry. Killian Jones is a pirate, and pirates don’t cry!

“Killian, what’s wrong? This isn’t like you,” Liam insists.

“I had a nightmare last night,” Killian says simply, watching Liam for any sort of recognition. Elizabeth told him once that when Liam and Victor went to taverns, they sometimes had trouble remembering what happened.

“A nightmare…” Liam repeats, grabbing his head. “I thought that was a dream…I’m sorry, Killy. I don’t remember much. Please tell me who did this to you? I’m your big brother! I have to protect you, but I can’t unless you tell me what happened.”

Killian feels tears slip down his cheeks no matter how much he tries to resist.

“I was scared, but you were kissing some blonde and acting funny. I wanted you to stop and…” Killian hesitates, breaking from sniffles into complete sobs. “And your friend hit me and kicked me and … and … and, he told me you were too busy for me. He said I wasn’t important to you.” As his brother tries to pull him into an embrace, Killian pushes him away. “So just go away!”

Liam doesn’t respond for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists before placing his hand over one of his little brother’s bruises. “Killian, look at me,” he insists.

“You, my dear brother, are the most important thing in the entire world to me, more than gold, more than any woman. You are my little brother. I love you. I’m so very sorry that man laid a hand on you. He shouldn’t have done that, and I should have beaten the daylights out of him – a mistake I will rectify as soon as possible,” he adds harshly.

“I promise, nothing will ever keep me from putting you first again,” Liam vows, pulling a stunned Killian into a hug.

It’s not lost on Killian that Liam broke that vow only a few years later. Now that he remembers the truth, the fact that Liam traded away his little brother for his own life is never, for a second, lost on him.

“He hasn’t been heard from in 15 years,” the enemy pirate captain responds to Killian’s mention of Liam. “I thought he perished, caught by some country, hung for his sins.”

Killian laughs, flipping his blade with forced calm. “Please,” he chuckles, “My brother is a legend. He wasn’t caught by some puppet king.” Killian circles the opposing pirate slowly, menacingly, gathering his thoughts. “No, Liam is far too ruthless.”

The pirate captain has his sword in hand, but he seems too curious about Killian’s tale to raise it. And Killian, who is used to blocking out thoughts of Liam’s disappearance, is only too happy to play with it now, to use Liam’s name to get his way.

“He’ll die on his 30th birthday, and you, Captain, will live.”

After all, it isn’t like Liam had cared for him anyway. He had been no more than a pawn to Liam, an object to trade in when he needed to. Turns out his older brother had been – still is – nothing but a coward. What does Killian care about his bloody name? His bloody reputation? After all, the man sent him away to live 15 miserable years alone, just waiting until he is scheduled to die.

“Traded away his own brother for a little gold. Did you know that?” Killian lies. “Gave me this scar, right here on the cheek,” he muses, tapping his skin.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Kill,” Liam says, bandaging the wound. “Why were you running around the deck like that while I was sparring, anyway?” he demands. He’s shaking, terrified at the thought of hurting the boy he’s supposed to be protecting.

Killian is a liar, but what the hell, so is Liam. Except his own lie won’t hurt anyone, while Liam’s broke Killian’s heart and ruined his life.

His pirate opponent eyes him warily.

Killian doubles down on the swagger. “Now I have his ship, so what does that tell you?”

The man huffs, drawing his weapon. “The last captain of this ship was not Liam Jones, lad. But now I recall where I saw you last, boy.” He closes the distance between them with a repulsive leer on his face.

Liam returns to the ship with bloodied knuckles and darkness in his eyes. It’s the same look he often wears when he comes back from “pirate business.” Killian watches him lift his flask slowly, studying it. Without warning, he hurls it across the ship and turns his back to it in a single motion, eyes finding Killian’s.

“He’ll never hurt you again, you understand?” Liam promises.

“The man with the black beard?” Killian asks haltingly.

“No, Killian,” Liam shakes his head. “The man…the man who nearly drank himself to death last night, the one who was too preoccupied by his own misery to notice that you needed him, the man who let you down last night.”

From Killian’s expression, it’s clear he doesn’t understand.

“That man, the man who I’ve become, will never rear his ugly head again, understood? I’m so sorry, little brother. Things will change. I’ll change. I swear it.”

As it turns out, no matter how much they remember, pirate captains who hit small children and then get pummeled in return by younger, stronger captains prefer not to recount their beatings in front of their crews.

So the bearded pirate calls up a different memory.

“You’re the cowardly deckhand who couldn’t even hold his rum.”

Killian scowls, “I’m allergic.”

The man scoffs. “Last time I checked, being a bloody lightweight isn’t an allergy, mate.”

He did something right and good. He stood out to the crew as more than just a deckhand. He could see it in their faces, the respect they had for his knowledge. So the rest of the crew take him out for some celebratory rum. Killian hopes this means they are willing to give him a chance, treat him like one of the guys.  

Unfortunately, rather than buying him drinks as a gesture of friendship, they only get him hammered so they can set him up and laugh at his embarrassing antics.

This pirate had been there, joining Killian’s crewmates in reveling in his misery.

He might have been a laughingstock then, but no more. On this ship, Killian is in charge, or so he tries to tell himself, swinging at the man.

As their swords clash, the older pirate goes back to needling him. In between taunts about his cowardice and stupidity, the pirate is gaining ground against Killian. The deckhand-turned-captain is putting on a good show for someone who wouldn’t pick up a blade a week ago and manages some impressive blocking maneuvers, but his seasoned opponent is stronger and far more practiced at this dueling-to-the-death thing.

Killian is starting to panic. He knows he should stay calm. He can’t afford to lose focus, but it’s easier said than done with his life on the line and a blade swiping ever closer to his body. He can barely keep him back.

Bloody hell, he’s going to kill me. He’s going to stab me, cut me, and throw me overboard. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

“Once we’re done with you, boy, the crew is going to have fun with those lasses. How did you get them all aboard your ship anyway?”

Emma.

Something in him clicks. He can’t lose here. He can’t die here. He refuses to. Because he wants her. He wants Emma more than anything in all the realms right now.

“Liam, during the storm, you acted strange,” Killian says.

They’re in Liam’s cabin nursing a cold.

“I heard the voice of someone I love,” Liam admits slowly. “No one you know, Killy,” he says when Killian presses.

“Why not? If you love her, why haven’t I met her?” Killian asks, somewhere between confused and hurt.

“Because she’s scared right now, and it’s my job to protect her, even from annoying little brothers,” Liam tries to distract him.

“Younger brother!” Killian reminds him, but isn’t deterred. “And why do you need to protect her?”

Liam looks up at the cabin ceiling. “Because, Killian, you have to fight to protect the ones you love. You have to protect them from everything, especially from your own demons. A man who won’t fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.”

Killian forces Liam from his mind. The middle of a swordfight isn’t a great time to reminisce.

But it is a good time to remember Emma, to remember that if he dies now, if he loses this fight, then Emma will come out swinging. She and Elsa and possibly Ingrid will have to fight a full crew of pirates and draw attention to themselves. Even if they survive, they can’t sail the Jewel on their own. And he can’t even think about what will happen to them if the pirates get the upper hand.

He’s never had anyone else relying on him before, never been trusted to defend others. For his entire life so far, whatever he did would only affect him.

Now he has Emma, Elsa and Ingrid depending on him.

Now he has no choice but to win.

“You won’t get anywhere near her – them,” he answers. The pirate lunges at him, making him recoil to avoid getting hit. He tumbles to the deck in the process.

“Her? I see you have a special one, deckhand.”

Killian gets to his feet in a flash, blocking the man’s next blow, one that nearly sliced through his neck.

“I don’t think it was the icy blonde. She seems too rigid, no fun at all,” the lecher observes as he pulls his arm back.

Killian takes the chance to put some distance between them, just enough to breath a bit. By now, he knows this man is toying with him, using Killian as little more than some entertainment for his crew, all of whom are playing along brilliantly,  laughing, hooting, demanding blood.

Bloody hell, the pirate is still talking.

“But that other blonde, with the leather,” he licks his lips obscenely. “I doubt a coward like you even knows what to do with a lass like her.” He pauses for crew participation. “After I’m through with her, she’ll know how a real captain takes a ship.”

Killian has to concentrate on not shaking with the force of his rage. The man is toying with him. Killian suddenly understands why Liam beat him so easily all those years ago. All this man cares about is inflating his own ego, not the battle before them.

Killian straightens, squares his shoulders and puts a pitying sneer back on his face. This man must not be very skilled if he’s relying on these tactics. “Please, you couldn’t handle it.”

Perhaps he can do this. Killian knows that what he lacks in experience, he can make up for in his knowledge of the environment.

The infuriated pirate lunges at Killian with homicidal intent. Perfect.

Killian doesn’t have the strength or the skill to win this fight. But he does have his ship. Captain or not, she’s always been his ship, every last plank of her. With the enemy stalking him step-for-step, Killian leaps backwards and just slightly to the left, knowing perfectly well –

crack

– which board not to land on. As his prey falls neatly into his trap, one foot crashing through a rotting plank to hold him in place, Killian strikes. His opponent’s blade goes flying as the scoundrel flails, trying unsuccessfully to keep his balance.

The pirate audience gasps as their captain hits the deck, Killian’s sword held neatly against his throat.

“She prefers a man with a head on his shoulders,” Killian says with a smirk. “Now tell your crew to get off my ship,” he demands, eyes turning cold. “Before I make you walk the plank.”

The man rolls his eyes at that last bit of dramatics, as if he hadn’t been staging his own show the whole time. “Fair is fair, boy. You won our duel, and while my men could make short work of you, it would be bad form to break our deal.”

Killian’s breathing hitches. Did he actually win?

“And I do owe that brother of yours one for letting me live,” the salty captain mutters as he gets to his feet.

Killian nods watching as the assembled crew disperses, grumbling but obedient.

“Killian, next time we meet, I won’t let you off this easy,” warns the older sailor. “You better build a crew you can trust if you think you can follow in Liam’s footsteps. A captain without a crew isn’t much of a captain.”

Killian doesn’t respond. He just watches, mind swimming, as the pirates board their own ship and sail away.

Eventually his breathing calms, and lets out a disbelieving laugh.

I was just in a swordfight with a pirate, one who knows my brother.

And I won.

His small chuckle evolves into a manic release of tension, and finally into a laugh of pure victory. He’s on top of the world, and it’s all because of her, his Swan, because she gives him someone to fight for, and because she believes in him. He needs her right now, needs to see her, to tell her that he faced his foe and won. He doesn’t care that she’ll tease him for it later; he just wants her in his arms.

He rushes below deck, throwing open doors until he finds her. He whisks Emma up and into his embrace, twirling her until her feet dangle in the air.

She shrieks in glee as he spins her. Over the sound of her laughter, Killian can barely hear Elsa scoff and Anna giggle.

“Emma, I did it! I won!” he crows, opening his eyes to take in the radiance of her features, the smile on her intoxicating lips...

“Easy tiger,” she breathlessly interrupts his adrenaline-fueled tumble from relief to lust. “I knew you could do it,” she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Oh Elsa! They really are cute!” Anna gushes, nudging her sister.

The Ice Queen rolls her eyes. “They’re nauseating.”

Killian puts down his blushing Swan. “Sorry love, I just got wrapped up in my excitement.” He scratches behind his ear, averting his gaze slightly.

With a gratingly false cough, Ingrid, the Snow Queen, glares at them. He squirms. The woman’s cold eyes just make him uncomfortable. And he still doesn’t know exactly what she did to him when she helped herself to his memories. Killian was thankful that she hated the outdoors  unless she could keep it below freezing, much preferring to stay below deck rather than help her nieces act as crewmen.

“We were having a discussion,” Ingrid scolds. “And you are interrupting, sailor. Go back to your post, and take Anna with you. We still have more to discuss,” she orders, waving vaguely toward the deck above.

Killian looks between Ingrid and Emma. He’ll wait for her word, his Emma. If she wants to talk to her sort-of aunt, then he’ll leave her to it, but he doesn’t like being dismissed by this woman.

“Elsa,” Emma says slowly. He can feel her anger vibrating under her show of calm.

“Emma,” Elsa mirrors in unspoken agreement.

Ingrid’s own fury appears just as bright as the girls’ her hands sparking with blinding white magic, somehow electric and cold at the same time. His instinct is to cower away from it, but he doesn’t let himself. He stands strong, moving his hand over his sword. He doesn’t feel like he’d stand much of a chance against this woman, but it makes him feel better to be armed.

“Girls, send your toys away. Now.” Ingrid’s command sounds like the order of a mother to her children, and he knows how well both of them will take that. Lord knew how angry Swan got when he gave her an order, and that hadn’t even been a direct one.

He exchanges a look with Anna, who is some combination of confused and terrified. They both know hell is about to break loose. Maybe they should step back, give the Snow Queen some distance before she reveals just how little she values their lives. It’s not an option for him, however, as Emma tightens her grip on his jacket protectively. Possessively even?  

“I have a better idea,” Emma growls, suddenly dropping her hold on him. “Killian, stay here with Anna. The three of us are going above deck for a bit, all right?” It may have been phrased as a question, but it clearly wasn’t one.

He nods his agreement anyway. Emma keeps her glare locked with Ingrid’s as she pulls him in for a kiss. He knows it’s just to spite the Snow Queen, but he’ll revel in the feeling of Emma Swan’s lips on his any chance he gets.

He’s dazed for a second, which is all it takes for the trio of furious witches to disappear.

“Killian? What just happened?” the red-headed lass asks, eyes wide as she lets out a breath. “Everything was ok at least for the most part, like Emma and Elsa made amends and everything seemed like it was going to be ok, and then –“

He nods as he settles himself to sit opposite her on one of the beds in the officers’ quarters, the one Elsa has been using, he thinks. Might as well get comfortable. Who knows how long it will take for the ladies to cool off?

Pun intended.

“Your aunt has a particular disdain for our kind,” he tells Anna, laying back with his arms under his head, eyes drifting closed as the adrenaline of the afternoon fades from his veins.

“Our kind?”

“Mere mortals. Those of us without magic,” he explains, not moving. “She already tried to warn me off Emma.” Her ultimatum – his memories or Emma – still weighs heavily on his conscience. It’s an impossible choice, as the reason he wants to untangle his memories is to find a way to avoid abandoning Emma.

“Why would she want us out of their lives?” Anna asks in a shaky voice.

“Depends on what your impression of her,” Killian huffs. “I’ve narrowed it down to two probable reasons.” He’s been thinking about it for days. “If you believe her spirit to be as light as her magic, then she wants the best for them, her sisters, and she’s afraid we’ll hurt them.”

Anna doesn’t respond at first. “How could we hurt them?” she eventually whispers.

He turns toward her, looking at her carefully. “Your sister has magic. Shouldn’t you be the expert on this stuff?” he asks. He doesn’t really know the siblings’ story. “I’ve only known Emma and Elsa for a few days, and I’ve already gathered quite a few things about them.”

Anna keeps quiet, fiddling with her hands.

“From what I gather, Ingrid hates magical users, she believes we either hate and fear magic, or want to use it to control them”He can see the guilt on Anna’s face.

A large screech comes from above deck. He shudders.

“I am afraid of her, Killian,” Anna says softly. “She was so much fun when we were little, so gentle. But now? Now she’s terrifying. She almost killed you! She’s killed before, I can tell. What if…what if I make her angry? Will she kill me too? And Emma, she’s the Dark One! I remember the rumors, the horror stories about her, she was the stuff of nightmares!”

They are honest questions, but a dangerous ones.

“Don’t think like that, Anna. What does your heart tell you? Elsa may be different now, she may be harsher, colder even, she may be a bit rougher around the edges, but she still loves you. When she found you frozen, she was devastated that her magic harmed you, she became adamant about saving you, had her stunt with me failed, she was never going to give up until she’d saved you. Do you really think your sister who did all that would ever purposely hurt you?” he asks, taking her hands in his, stopping her fiddling and forcing her to look at him.  

She shakes her head. “What happened to me, being frozen alive, was an accident. Elsa didn’t even know it happened. I tried to find her, but I froze too quickly. Even if she would never do anything on purpose, I’m afraid of another accident. What if you aren’t there to unfreeze me?”

“So I guess you know, then,” Killian sighs. “About the feelings that Elsa thinks I have.”

Anna nods. “I heard what she said about what the wizard told her. Thank you,” she says softly, gripping his hands a little tighter. “I owe you everything.”

He rubs behind his ear. “But I don’t. I can’t. I can’t love, not right now,” he struggles to convince himself as much as her. “It’s not possible.” Not as long as he’s counting down the days until his death via curse.

He cannot love Emma Swan if he is going to die. He can’t be another person to show her love only to leave her.

“Hope you know you’re lying to yourself,” Anna says cheerily.

He groans in annoyance “Yes, I suppose I am.” He looks around to make sure it’s only him and Anna before he confesses, “it’s easier to hate the Dark One, to fear her, than it is to love her.”

But he doesn’t hate her, could never hate her. Now he’s stuck going down the harder path. It had never really been a choice at all, not since the moment he saw behind the monster.

Killian hops into bed, legs crossed. “Falling in love sounds hard, Liam. It sounds scary

That makes his older brother laugh. “It is. Falling in love is like finding and losing yourself in one moment. It’s like finding out that the only person in the world who can fix you is also the only person who can truly wreck you,” he explains, or at least tries to. “But you can’t help it, Killian. When you fall in love, you can’t help it. But once you do, you know. You always know.”

Right now, Killian knows. He thought he knew with Milah, but this, this is different. This is a thousand times better.

“Thank you, Killian. I think I know what to do now,” Anna smiles at him. “I think I know how I can avoid hurting her now.”

He’s glad he could help her, even as in doing so, he realizes he’s so far beyond helping.  

“Killian?”

They both jump. He stands to meet her eyes, a smile on his face.

Emma is smiling too, but it’s weak effort. He can see burns on her arms and exhaustion in her features, but there’s something else too. He wants to let her lean on him, let him soothe her obviously aching soul.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks, moving to close the distance between them.

But she steps back, out of his reach. She might as well have slapped him; he knows a rejection when he sees one. He doesn’t understand the sudden change. Emma went from possessively kissing him to pulling away.

“I’m fine,” Swan snips, crossing her arms almost angrily. “Ingrid isn’t going to be bothering us anymore. Just get us back to port.”

And she’s gone, her order left in her wake.

Killian turns to see Elsa chatting easily with her sister. She has burns like Emma’s on her arms, but Anna is patching them with a smile, and both seems almost pleased for Anna to have a reason to take care of Elsa.

He looks back in the direction Emma fled, longing to go after her. First he’ll follow her wishes and check the ship’s course, but then he’s going to find out what happened.

He considers for a moment letting her, letting her push him away, but he can’t.

He desperately wants to protect his Swan, but he can’t help gravitate towards her.

He’s a selfish idiot in love.