#I’ve never actively prayed during a match before but I was there tonight

[eabhva]

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[angstyclowns]

Alpha! Izuku Midoriya x Omega! Reader (Ft.Omega! Ochako)

ANd I saId AhHaHHAHHA AHHHAHHA 

I SaID HeY WhaT’s GOiNg On~~~~

I’m as useless as the G in lasagna on this page I swear.

 I also swear I’m super sorry for the inactivity but I’ve been going on hardcore isolation for four weeks (FUcK TruDEaU HaS A CaCTUs DILdO In My AsS) and I’m losing motivation fast, but I’ll try to get some asks done as soon as possible!

Anyway-

I now present my first attempt at a fic on this page-

Warning! Cheating and alpha heart break. Poor IzUwU.

Heartbreak kid

He knew deep down that she wasn’t the omega for him. He knew it, his inner alpha knew it, hell, he was sure deep down, even she knew it. But something in them kept them together. Neither were sure as to what is was, but it raged like an angry forest fire in both of them, keeping them at each others side even if they knew that something- no, someone- was out there, just aching to be a better match. 

Izuku knew he didn’t want to keep this relationship going, but the girl -He’d say omega, but that would imply his alpha viewed her as such, when in reality,it barely saw her as a person- was adamant on keeping him within arms reach. But lately, it’s taken such a turn, not even the alpha was sure he could keep up. 

Her nest was no longer an acceptable zone, the male not even allowed within a fifteen feet radius of the nest of bed sheets and pillows, her purrs no longer rang throughout the room whenever he cuddled with her, hell, cuddling alone- something both alphas and omegas needed- was so rare, Izuku was shocked beyond words. 

“Are you okay?”

 The words broke his train of though as the sudden coldness of ink disappeared from his bicep. Bright (E/C) orbs peaked up at him, bangs of (H/C) intruding every so often before she brushed them away. Her scent was vanilla sweet and surrounded him so nicely, making purrs erupt from deep within his chest. Her own purrs echoed around him reciprocation, making his alpha yip in joy. 

“I guess. Just thinking...”

The (H/C)ette hummed, resuming her work on his bicep. Somehow the omega below him convinced him to allow her to draw and doodle all over his arm, using skin safe markers of course, acting therapeutic in a way to both of them. 

“About Uraraka?”

He nodded as his purrs immediately softened, nearly disappearing completely. The click of the marker cap shutting tightly rung through his ears but, he remained stoic, eyes tracing over line after line etching onto his arm. Beautiful orchids and leaves trailed up and down his upper arm, highlighting the muscles he worked so hard to get. She even went as far as incorporating the scars into part of the piece of work, making them look like veins trailing up and down the petals of a primrose- the centerpiece of the artwork. The peice was beautiful in every way, and if he could, he’d get it tattoo’d permanently. Hell, his inner alpha was debating buying a tattoo machine just so he could have it done permanently. 

The soft hand on his un-inked arm brought his attention full circle once more, his emerald orbs snapping forward to meet (E/C) ones. Her facial features were lax and calm, and made him smile.  Her mouth moved but he couldn’t hear the words coming out of her mouth. He was too busy watching her facial features, how her eyes shined with whatever she was saying, brows raising in the cutest way, he barely even saw her stop talking. 

“-Zuku? Izuku? Izuku!” 

The alpha shook his head at the sound of his name, quickly flushing red as she giggled, waving him off as he furiously apologized. When he shyly asked her to repeat himself she did so with little hesitation. Thinking back, if he had done the same to his now girlfriend, she’d snap at him.

“I was saying that maybe you and Uraraka should have a movie night tonight. Maybe some time alone would do you both some good. I could help you set up!” Your smile was bright and it made Izuku’s inner alpha whimper at the thought of him and Uraraka alone. He wanted to have movie night with you. Laughing with you as you flawlessly recited lyric after lyric, holding you when the climax of the movie would hit and you would inevitably feel sympathetic for the main character, carrying you to bed after you fell asleep during the credits, cuddling with you until day break. All of these things were things he wanted to do with you. Not her. 

Nodding, he followed you into the dorms (Both of you sitting on the outside porch for some fresh air), thinking back onto his relationship with the brunette. She had asked him to scent something for her about two months back, and he was overjoyed. His inner alpha couldn’t care less, as he had already seen you as his omega, but Izuku knew deep down he wouldn’t get that chance. You were gorgeous in every way and he adored you for your kind hearted attitude. He adored you. But that was a far away fantasy in his mind so he settled for Uraraka. 

In the first few days, his alpha completely ignored the omega, only recently coming around to even think about her as a suitable omega; and then it was if a flip was switched and they were all back at square one. But this wasn’t his alpha’s fault. Uraraka changed completely, making even Izuku question if he wanted to keep the relationship going. And he was going to break things with her, but he didn’t have a reasonable excuse. 

No matter, maybe he could rekindle this dying light with your help. 

Or so he thought. Watching as your skipping form abruptly stopped at the kitchen entrance. His brows furrowed as his alpha pushed to the surface, immediately rushing to your side. His heart dropped at the sight. 

Iida and Uraraka were hurriedly trying to clean themselves up, the appearance of you obviously disrupting their previous activities (Izuku shuddering at  thought of what that could be. But between their disheveled hair and clothes, he could make a pretty good guess). His alpha was snarling wildly and growling, begging to be let out and put that damned omega in her place. Playing with an alpha like that was shameful that in olden days, it was punishable by death. 

But Izuku knew that would nothing but scare you, and he didn’t want that. So sucking up his tears and clearing his throat, he merely let the alpha relish in the look of horror that crossed their faces.  Clutching his hands into fists, he growled lowly before opening his mouth to speak. Yet the words he heard weren’t his. 

They were yours.

“You pitiful excuse of an omega! How in the world could you even think about cheating on an alpha, let alone one as sweet as Izuku?!” You spat the words, snarling as you stepped forward, anger apparent in your words, actions and scent. “Your pathetic doing so! I’m so ashamed of your actions, you almost make me ashamed to be an omega. God, there aren’t enough words in any language to describe how inexcusable your actions have been, much less disgraceful.”

You snapped viciously before turning to face Iida. “And you! How could you do this to one of your best friends?! This is deplorable and surely is enough to tarnish the Iida family name don’t you think?!”

The shocked look the two gave you was enough for you to deem this a triumphant victory before pulling Izuku, who looked seconds away from breaking down to his room. You watched as he let the rivers upon rivers of tears escape the corners of his eyes, eventually leaving him to his own devices, as an angry and upset alpha was also an unpredictable one.

<>~<>~<>~<>

Five days. It had been five days since anyone had seen Izuku. You left him food by his door everyday for every meal, praying he was eating it. Since the stench of death wasn’t constantly wafting from his room, you would say he was. 

You had been in his room once within those five days, hoping to collect the dishes he was obviously compiling. He let you in, but holy shit did he look like death hit him with an iron mallet. His hair was greasy and his shirt had stains all over it; eyes puffy from days of crying. It made your omega whine in agony. You ended up making him a makeshift nest that day before leaving with the dishes. 

Right now, you were wishing you had stayed with him though. Recovery girl and Aizawa stood in front of you, each looking incredibly disappointed.

Uraraka had challenged you to a fight in the middle of the night, and with your omega still being incredibly angry at her, you didn’t get the chance to decline. It had been a long and tedious battle- mainly because she just wouldn’t give up- but you won in the end; with a price however. 

Your eye was swollen and turning darker by the second and the bottom right of your lower jaw was bandaged, and you had numerous other bandages covering cuts all over your body (She had thrown you through a window). 

“I’m sure you both realize how incredibly foolish this was-”

“Y/N!” 

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name, green hair quickly entering your line of vision as a body collided with yours. Pain seared through your side but you pushed through it, just happy to see the alpha out of his room. Your omega purred loudly before you could stop it, Izuku holding you close to his chest, almost in fear of letting you go. A small cough from the male teacher behind you quickly made him let go, but he still kept a hand on your shoulder. 

He sat silently as Aizawa dealt out reprimendments and  punishments, turning to you once more after he left.

If you thought he looked bad before, he looked much worse now. Bags set under his eyes, heavy and deep, and his eyes were much more bloodshot. Tear tracks reflected off of the light above you and you could see the nearly gone remnants of the drawing on his arm. 

You didn’t get to ponder more on it before he laid his head on top of yours, hiccuping as his breaths came in short gulps of air. It didn’t seem as if he were crying, but you’ve been wrong before. 

“Please. Never do that again. When I heard you got into a fight, I- I thought I had failed you again and you were seriously hurt.” His voice cracked, but his arms remained firm, keeping you tightly against him. 

“What about me, Deku?” That very voice. The one that started this mess seemed to make Izuku grip you even tighter.

“What about you?” For a normally docile alpha, the growl that escaped him would send shivers down even Bakugo’s spine. You arms instinctively wrapped around the alpha’s ribs as you nuzzled into his chest. You know he’d never hurt you, but your omega would be damned if he wasn’t surrounding by his scent right this minute. 

He purred lowly before turning his head to face the brunette beside you two, “I trusted you, Uraraka. And you broke that trust. As far as I’m concerned your nothing but a classmate right now. Maybe one day, we could rebuild a friendship, but I don’t see that day happening anytime soon. I may be partially to blame for trusting you so easily, but even then, cheating on me in downright implorable, even for a villain. You destroyed our friendship, destroyed our relationship and tried fighting Y/N. If you knew what was good for you, you’d shut up and leave me and my omega alone right now.”

Without another word, Izuku picked you up bridal style, quickly carrying you out of Recovery girl’s office. 

Deep down, you both knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship just yet- it would take a while for him to get over the harsh reality of a heartbreak. But now, Izuku could look forward knowing you were there to help him on his journey, and when he was ready...

You’d be waiting with open arms and a smile on your face.

[wwitbeyondmeasure]

Summer at the Burrow / Ron Weasley fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise / Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match / Chapter 7: Girl Talk / Chapter 8: Aphrodite’s Push / Chapter 9: Mistakes and Love Potions / Chapter 10: You Would Be Fine / Chapter 11: Spell It Out / Chapter 12: Long Overdue / Chapter 13: Always Want You

Chapter 14: A Magical End and a New Beginning

When you woke up the next morning, Ron's arms were wrapped tightly around you and his snores were loud enough to wake the entire Burrow. Giggling at him, you turned around to kiss him on the cheek. At this, he started stirring in his sleep.

"Wake up, Won-Won," you teased.

Ron groaned sleepily and nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.

"Never, call me that," he said, his speech thick from sleep. His morning voice instantly made you feel hot and light headed.

"What would you rather me call you?" you asked, a playful smirk appearing on your lips. "Sweetheart? Lover of mine? Honeykins? Sex Wizard Supreme?"

"My boyfriend will do for now," he responded, kissing your lips. After a moment he pulled away, pursed his lips and said, "On second thought, I kind of like Sex Wizard Supreme."

You laughed, playfully nudging him off of you as he tried to kiss you again. In response to this, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and attacked your neck with thousands of kisses. You were giggling and gasping under your breath when suddenly, Ron's bedroom door was kicked open. Both of you froze.

In marched Ginny, Hermione, Harry, and the twins.

"I see we've come full circle," Hermione said with a smirk once everyone got a glimpse of you and Ron, tangled in the bed sheets. You self consciously pulled the sheets higher up around your body to cover up for the fact that underneath the red comforter, you were butt-naked.

"I told you this was where she was," Ginny said, lightly slapping Harry on the shoulder.

Fred made a great deal of dramatically holding his hand out to George, who dug two galleons from his pocket and slapped it into Fred's open palm. George glared at you for a second, presumably for making him lose his bet, but before long he was back to smiling and joking.

"You're welcome for those fireworks, mate," George told Ron. "Without them, I would've bet you never would have told y/n you liked her."

"Bet? Would you like to make another? I could use some extra cash," Fred said, turning to his twin with a smirk. George responded with an eye roll and a shove to Fred's shoulder.

"Ron! You never told me you liked y/n!" Harry protested in disbelief. "I'm your best friend," he added afterwards, obviously a little grumpy that Ron hid this from him.

You felt Ron shrug behind you, his arms still in place on your waist.

"You never told me you fancied my sister," he responded. His voice was still deep from just waking up and it made you wish everyone would leave the room so you could attend to other activities.

Harry's face turned the color of Ginny's hair. Ginny, who was now grinning like an idiot.

"Come on then, Harry," Ginny said, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the open door. "Ron and y/n had their conversation, now it's time for ours."

Once they left, Hermione and the twins stayed grinning at the two of you.

"Get out," Ron grumbled at them.

"Please," you added with a sweet smile.

Hermione winked at you as she left. The twins followed, but not before shouting "Use protection! Wrap it before you tap it!"

Ron groaned at their words but you knew he was secretly as excited as you were when his bedroom door slammed shut, leaving you alone.

"So," you prompted, rolling onto Ron's stomach. His hands instinctively found their way to your hips, moving up and down the sides of your body, giving you shivers.

"So," he replied with a smirk.

You leaned down to press your lips against his.

"Whatdoya wanna do on this fine morning?" you asked, mumbling the words against his mouth.

Ron's hands trailed from your waist downwards, cupping your bare bottom.

"I could think of a few ideas."

...

After about three rounds of mind-blowing sex, you were really making up for lost time, the two of you headed downstairs for breakfast. Well by now, it would probably be lunch.

Ron had insisted you wear one of his t-shirts, which had been exactly what prompted round number three, so you walked, more like limped (for obvious reasons), down the stairs wearing your jean shorts and his red Chuddley Canons shirt. His hand was pressed against the small of your back to keep you steady and it made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. You wished he would never stop touching you.

"Morning," George said, lifting his mug of tea and smirking at you.

"Y/n!" Mrs Weasley said, brightening once she saw you. "You missed helping at breakfast this morning, but no matter, please sit down! We're having sandwiches for lunch."

You thanked her, sliding into the nearest chair, praying to Merlin she hadn't noticed the way you were walking. Ron sat beside you and before long, the whole Weasley family was at the kitchen table. Plates of food were passed around and everyone started digging into the meal. Talk at the table was joyful and full, and you couldn't have been happier. You were sitting around the table with the boy you loved, your best friends, and the nicest family you had ever met. It was in that moment that you realized, this was the happiest you had ever been in your whole life. All thanks to this wonderful summer, you knew more moments like this would happen again.

After lunch, you played a game of Quidditch with the family and after an astounding match (you had scored at least 7 goals) you found yourself under the familiar oak tree, playing wizard's chess with Ron.

His knight piece had just smashed your pawn into a dozens pieces and you let out a low sigh.

"I've never been very good at this game, Quidditch is more my speed," you admitted.

Ron grinned, happy to have found a game he could beat you at.

"If I let you win will you stay in my room again tonight?" he asked with a giddy look in his eyes.

You laughed, pushing his shoulder. The instant your skin touched his, it was like the same sparks from your first kiss were ignited again. Ron rolled over on top of you, cradling your face with his large hands as he kissed you breathlessly. You couldn't help the sigh of happiness and love that escaped your lips.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said.

Rolling your eyes, you asked, "Won't your parents get suspicious?"

Ron shrugged, kissing your left cheek, then your right, and finally your forehead before pulling you into his side. Now you were cuddling under the oak tree, the summer sunshine illuminating his red hair, and you couldn't have been happier.

"Maybe they will, I dunno. I think they suspected us to be banging for years," he replied.

"Such romantic word choice," you quipped with a laugh.

He kissed your shoulder before responding, "Fucking, making love, bumping uglies. Whatever you want to call it, as long as we get to do it again."

You laughed again and he joined in, the sound like music to your ears.

"I'm serious though," Ron finally said, turning to you with a much more mature look on his face. "Not just about the sex thing. Even though that is very good. But I mean in general." His eyes scanned yours and you had the feeling he was nervous about what he was going to say next.

"In general?" you asked.

He nodded before continuing. "I don't want this, us, to be a just summer thing. I've loved you for years, and I want to keep loving you for years. That means during our last year at Hogwarts, and afterwards."  

You were stunned by his vulnerability to say that. In response, you kissed him, trying to pour all of the love and words you didn't know how to articulate into the kiss.

"I want that too. I want you, too. For years to come."

He grinned at that before repeating, "For years to come," as he kissed you again. And again. And again.

the end.

[generaldisdainn]

A fluffy drabble

Just a little birthday drabble for the always amazing @ahtohallan-calling !! You’ve been such a wonderful and encouraging person in this fandom, and you have always made me feel welcome! :-) You’re an incredible writer and the sweetest person ever! I hope you have an amazing birthday!!! <3 <3 <3

I wasn’t too sure what to do for your birthday, so I settled on writing a quick little fluffy drabble of Kristoff and Anna’s first time cuddling in canonverse. I hope you enjoy! <3

Pairing: Kristanna

Rating: K

Word count: 1,479

Just pure syrupy sweet fluff of canonverse Kristanna cuddling for the first time :’)

Kristoff had always lived a solitary life. He knew the warmth of Sven on particularly cold nights, but he couldn’t say he was one to have experienced much physical contact. It’s not as though he could cuddle up with a rock troll in the evening when the loneliness set in. He’d learned to accept it. He told himself he didn’t mind the long, lonely nights spent harvesting ice or journeying through the fiord, that a blanket would be enough to keep out the cold or the creeping pain of solitude.

But then there was Anna. 

When she first suggested he live at the palace, he was skeptical. He had spent his entire life outdoors, surrounded by hay and bugs and protected by the radiant sky above. But the way her eyes lit up at the idea pushed aside any of his reservations. 

They had only been officially dating for a few months, but she had already made him a part of the family. He was included in their family meals. He and Elsa had become fast friends and he practically knew the whole palace staff by name. Besides, he was over so often anyway. He might as well sleep there too, she reasoned. 

Despite all that had changed for him, his nights were still filled with relative solitude. He and Anna remained cognisant of social norms in the evenings. After their daily activities they would part ways and go to their respective rooms for the night. Anna was a princess after all. 

But one night, things were different. For the first time since he had arrived at the palace, he heard a knock at his door after he and Anna had already said goodnight.

He padded over to the looming, wooden door and pulled it open just a crack. 

“Kristoff?” He almost didn’t recognize her voice. It was so soft and hesitant, as though if she spoke any louder she would crumble. “Can I come in?”

Normally he would be cautious. He would ask her “are you sure this is a good idea?”, afraid of soiling the princess’ reputation or crossing any sort of boundary. But the way she looked up at him with pleading eyes and trembling lip- he opened the door almost immediately, making way for her to step inside.

“Is everything okay?” He could already guess that the answer was no, but he figured it was as good a place to start as any. 

Anna shifted her weight back and forth between her feet, looking around the room as if she suddenly felt uncomfortable being there. It was a new experience. Kristoff had never even seen her in her nightgown. She had never been in this room after the sun had set. He suddenly realized just how dark it was, and he lit a candle while Anna mulled over whether or not to answer his question.

“I can’t sleep,” she finally said, her voice small again. “Sometimes I just get lonely at night.”

Kristoff extended an arm, pulling her into his chest and holding her there. He knew that feeling. His heart sank with the realization that she, just like him, knew many lonely nights. Anna tucked her arms against his chest and he could feel her take in a shaky breath against him. 

“Do you mind if I…” she began the question but faltered as she met his gaze.

Kristoff brought a comforting hand to her back, trying his best to ease her nerves. She took another moment to breathe, during which Kristoff felt a question leave his lips, a question he’d wanted to ask her every night since his first night spent in the palace. “Do you want to sleep in here tonight?”

Anna’s gaze softened, her brilliant blue eyes shining in the candlelight as he finished her question. She nodded, the beautiful tresses of her hair bouncing with her answer. 

His heart swelled at the thought of snuggling up with her. They had cuddled before, of course. They had found themselves in compromising positions after taking an unexpected nap together or curled up in the hay of the stable after pampering Sven, but this was different. For the first time in his life, Kristoff wouldn’t be sleeping alone. He scooped Anna up and carried her to the bed like she was his bride. He prayed she couldn’t hear the thumping of his heart in his chest. He was nervous, although he knew he had no reason to be. Anna had a way of making everything okay.

Anna giggled as he carried her and placed her on the bed, her laughter calming his nerves. Her laugh was like a gentle breeze against newly blooming trees. 

Kristoff felt awkward for a brief moment as he crawled into bed next to her. He felt skin against his skin that he had never felt before. He wanted to wrap an arm around her but was afraid to cross a line or touch her wrong or-

Anna stilled his thoughts as her fingers trailed against his arm. She held his hand and brought his arm over her protectively. “Is this okay?” Anna asked with a sigh, her voice no louder than a whisper. If not for the silence of the night, Kristoff didn’t know if he would’ve been able to hear her.

He nodded into her neck and planted a kiss on the soft skin there, admiring the freckles that dotted her skin like stars. Her hair tickled his nose and he couldn’t help but run a hand through it. She always had her hair in braids or up in some elaborate do, and while he loved her hair like that, he couldn’t help but be awestruck by the way her hair fell in gentle waves down her back. “Have I ever seen your hair down like this?” 

Anna hummed in thought for a moment before turning to face him, her hands pressed against his chest. His arms held tightly to her waist, determined to keep her close. “I don’t think so. Is it okay?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Anna let out a gentle sigh as he ran his fingers through it again. He swore he had never heard anything more comforting. He felt her melt against him, the tension she felt a minute ago dissipating as Kristoff planted a soft kiss on her forehead. 

“You’re so warm,” she exhaled.

Kristoff chuckled at that. “Am I?”

Anna nodded into his chest and smiled, her head ducked from his gaze as she inhaled deeply. “I’m always cold, so we’re a good match.”

Kristoff pulled her closer, his hand rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles. “We fit together perfectly.”

Anna nodded again, another soft giggle passing through her lips like twinkling stars. 

A moment of silence passed between them, nothing but the breeze against the window pane and the soft rise and fall of their synchronous breaths breaking the stillness of the night. 

Kristoff marveled at the way the night felt with her in his arms. He felt full and whole, no longer using a blanket to block out the cold or the dull ache of his heart, but holding the one he loved close to his chest, feeling the soft fabric of her nightgown brushing against his arms and his legs and smelling her with every inhale. She filled his lungs with the stars of the sky. He made friends with the long nights he had dreaded for so long. 

“Thank you,” Anna breathed. 

“For what?” He planted another kiss on the top of her head, his fingers trailing through her hair once more as she laid in his arms.

“For this. This is the safest I’ve ever felt in my entire life.”

“Me too. You know,” he began. “Even though we’ve spent so many nights alone, we were always under the same sky.”

“That’s a really beautiful thought,” she replied with a yawn. She took his hand in hers and stroked his palm thoughtfully with her thumb.

Kristoff swore he could feel the stars.

She snuggled back into him, her eyes falling closed and her head leaning against the expanse of his chest. 

“Goodnight, Kristoff. “Her voice was like the whisper of a passing ocean wave.

“Goodnight, Anna.” Kristoff blew out the candle at his bedside table. 

He always wondered how he would be able to sleep in the arms of another. He had gotten so used to nights spent alone. He had convinced himself long ago that sleeping with someone else would be hard- that it would be a tangled mess of legs and arms and discomfort. But Anna fit so perfectly in his arms. The rise and fall of her breath calmed him and made him feel full and light. He fell asleep easily that night, and when he awoke that morning to Anna in his arms, he pulled her tighter, intent on never letting her go.

[a-queer-seminarian]

icons

i’ve been wandering through websites about how icons are made and how to pray with them; here are some quotes i’ve found that i’d like to gather into one place for future reference.

icons are primarily created by members of Eastern Christianity (the Orthodox Church), but Catholics value them too. i’ve always loved them.

History and purpose of icons

“In the eighth century, when the emperor of Constantinople outlawed icons and initiated a 55-year wave of destruction of sacred images in the East, many iconographers fled to Italy for safety and continued their work under the pope’s protection.Fashion can destroy even more thoroughly than imperial edicts. Through never banned in the West, icons gradually fell out of favor during the Renaissance. Increasingly religious paintings moved toward natural lighting, the illusion of three dimensions, and the ever more vivid portrayal of emotion—all qualities carefully avoided in iconography, which aims for silence and stillness. Icons are not emotionally manipulative. They are less a display of individual talent than the creation of a zone of prayer using artistic minimalism.

...

Icons may be beautiful, but they do not exist just to add a little color or a special atmosphere to the rooms they happen to be in. They’re there to help us pray. An icon that isn’t being used in prayer is like a musical instrument not being played or a cookbook that never gives birth to a meal.”

“Icons as Religious Art”

“Religious icons are a form of prayer. When you look at an icon, it is meant to make you aware that you are in the presence of God. Icons, then, are not just art with a religious theme; rather, they are sacred art because they bring the viewer to the sacred.

Icons have been called windows to heaven or doorways to the sacred. When you are standing in front of an icon, it is as if you are looking through a window into the heavenly world of the mystery. But this is a two-way window. As you look though the window, you are also being seen with the eyes of love by those in the icon. It’s like you become a part of the mystery that the icon seeks to express.”

“Praying with Icons”

“One of the odd things that has happened to prayer in much of Western Christianity — in some churches with the Reformation, in others more recently — has been the drastic erosion of the physical dimension of spiritual life. Prayer has become mainly an activity of the head. Many of us have become like birds trying to fly with one wing. Icons can help us grow back the missing wing, the physical aspect of prayer.

Do you pray with your eyes closed? Because icons are physical objects, they serve as invitations to keep our eyes open when we pray. While prayer may often be, in Thomas Merton's words, "like a face-to-face meeting in the dark," cutting a major link with the physical world by closing your eyes is not a precondition of prayer. Icons help solve a very simple problem: If I am to pray with open eyes, what should I be looking at? It doesn't have to be icons, but icons are a good and helpful choice. They serve as bridges to Christ, as links with the saints, as reminders of pivotal events in the history of salvation.”

How they are made:

“In addition to the style of the painting (or writing as it is called), the actual technique of making an icon is rich with symbolism. For example, in the Eastern Church tradition, icons are painted on high-quality wood that has been carefully shaped and smoothed. The wood is a reminder of what life was like before the fall of Adam and Eve. It symbolizes both the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge. A linen cloth covers the wood, both to protect it and to remind us of the cloth that Jesus was wrapped in when he died. Coats of gesso made from rabbit-skin glue and chemists’ chalk are applied over the linen. This symbolizes the soul and life of the person.

The iconographer cleans, smoothes, and prepares the gesso to receive the holy image, much as we prepare ourselves to bear the image of Christ. The board is indented so that the edges appear raised. The center part of the wood board is shallower than the rest and is called covcheg, which is Russian for “coffin.” The image is placed inside this shallow space. It is etched into the gesso. A thin layer of clay bole (a mixture of clay and hide glue) is applied to the areas of the icon that will be gilded with gold leaf. The clay represents our physical nature. To apply gold, the iconographer breathes on the clay bole to vaporize it and immediately places the gold leaf on the damp area. This process symbolizes the Spirit and reminds us of the act of creation and the breath of life. The gold itself symbolizes divine light and heaven. Icons often have gold backgrounds because the viewer is gazing at someone in heaven. The image is painted with a mixture of egg yolk, pure water, vinegar, and natural pigments. Many layers are applied, each with their own color symbolism.” [x]

“There are indeed canons, or rules, set forward – particularly in monasteries – as to how someone must approach the painting of an icon. It involves fasting, prayers, and other ascetic acts which effectively discipline the passions of the painter and allow him or her to create the icon in a prayerful attitude.” [x]

(“The Sick Man” by Vasili Maxamov)

Tips for Praying with an Icon

“Because icons make present that which they represent, the way we use them in prayer is significant. Icons are meant to be gazed upon as you would gaze upon one whom you love: with openness, expectation, affection and anticipation. When you gaze upon the one whom you love you do so in the expectation and anticipation that your loving gaze will be returned with equal affection. ...

First, get comfortable and let your eyes roam over the whole picture.

Simply gaze at the icon in a spirit of openness allowing the icon to gaze back at you. Gaze in expectation and anticipation knowing that God has something to say to you through this icon tonight. Gaze at this icon, allowing your affections to be kindled.

What do you see? What do you notice? What stands out to you? What questions arise as you gaze at this icon? How do you feel? Don’t try to figure things out. Simply gaze at love and allow love to gaze back at you.”

The article continues with a suggestion to focus on each figure in the icon one by one, pondering how experiences you have had match up with the experience of the figure, and waiting to hear if the figure has anything to say to you. Is there a single word that comes to you as you gaze at the icon? Is there anything you want to say to the person(s) depicted?

Unorthodox icons

Brother Robert Lentz is my favorite iconographer. He’s a Byzantine Catholic and a Franciscan; he acknowledges that his icons break away from Orthodox tradition and calls them Franciscan instead.

“His icons reflect his experiences among the poor in this country and in the Third World, as well as his Franciscan and Russian roots. They are filled with bright colors and often depict contemporary subjects. While always striving to remain true to the essence of Byzantine iconography, he adapts traditional conventions in order to minister better to the emerging Church. His icons remain transcendent expressions of the ancient Christian Tradition, and they invite us into communion with God and the saints.” (TrinityStores)

He’s got a website that talks about his history and his sense of calling when it comes to making icons.

“I try to listen to the people of God. The type of people I rub shoulders with nowadays are not traditional priests or monks but alienated Christians. They feel that religious institutions have outlived their usefulness and are scandalized by the ways that they continue to shackle the Gospel. They’re angry. They’re searching. These people are the ones I try to listen to. I hear from them about Dorothy Day and Mother Jones. I heard from them about Archbishop Romero and other martyrs of Central America. Black people ask, ‘Why can’t we have a Black Christ?’ And artists wonder why someone like Johann Sebastian Bach or the artist Georges Rouault isn’t worthy [to be represented as an icon].”

“The original reason I began painting icons was to celebrate the goodness of God that I saw. There were people I loved deeply—the Mother of God, St. Seraphim, St. Francis—and I wanted to have them around me. Painting icons of those people is a celebration of God’s goodness and artistry. In that sense an icon is like an explosion. It lights up an entire room. It explodes on your wall. There’s a saint like Dorothy Day gazing at you! She’s present, and she’s challenging you to look at the streets and the way you respond to the Gospel. And there’s Oscar Romero asking, ‘What are you doing about the bloodshed down here?’”

He also has a YouTube channel where he talks a bit more about iconography and has videos talking about specific icons he’s made. I particularly recommend his video titled “Iconography.”

[shelivesinthewoods]

Anxious (Mr. Sinclaire x MC... sort of)

Ok, so, it doesn’t actually include my MC, Isabel. This is a little piece that came to mind that I couldn’t get rid of for Mr. Sinclaire and the Earl. This takes place... sometime... after the opera.

Tagging: @katurrade and @tinygooplandroad and @bexlyp

Rating: G

Word count : 1660 ish and I can’t make read more work tonight, so long post 😭

Not quite the era I wanted, but hey...

The day was beautiful and temperate; a lovely early summer day, warm, but the breeze carrying a crispness resemblant of spring. While waking up the familiar lane, his hands were damp; the palms a little sweaty. He stepped up to knock on the door; then hesitated— and then, a second time. He blew out a breath, muttering, “This is ridiculous.” As he finally knocked at the door, “How many times have you spoken to the Earl of Edgewater? After father died, you nearly spent more time here than at home.”

The heavy door swung open to reveal Mr. Woods; the steward greeted him with a bow, “Mr. Sinclaire! Good morning!”

“Good morning, Mr. Woods, is— is the earl still in?” A tiny part of him hoped the answer was no.

“Yes sir, he is. Allow me a moment to inquire if he is amenable to a guest.”

“Please express my deepest apologies for arriving unannounced.”

“Of course, sir.” Woods replied, pulling the door shut behind him, and gesturing to the settee. “Please have a seat.” Woods then turned on his heel, heading further into the estate, in the direction of the Earls study.

Ernest stood for a moment, contemplating the settee, before he took up pacing. He spoke with the Earl all the time—for pity’s sake, the man had been kind enough to help him learn to run his own manor, and to take care of his family business. He’d become a mentor to the younger man, and a good friend.

“Why, Mr. Sinclaire, shouldn’t you be in London?” The shrill voice if The Countess made him stop in his tracks, “I do hope nothing untoward has befallen my husbands bastard.”

The heat behind her words nearly made him wince. He had entertained the idea that Lady Isabel had exaggerated the Countesses disdain; but clearly it had been an understatement. “I’m quite certain that Edmund or Miss Sutton would let you know immediately, Lady Henrietta.”

Her expression was pinched, “One would hope,” she agreed, “However, I’ve been hearing less from both of them recently. Pray tell, how has the season been so far?”

Mildly, he stated, “It has been pleasant enough. The entertainment has been most impressive.”

“And the companionship? I’ve heard that Miss Holloway is utterly delightful and seems quite interested in you. It would be a good match. Quite respectable.”

“It could be s good match,” he agreed— it would be a wonderful match, if he wanted s marriage like his first. That was not what he was the least bit interested in. “Except that I have no inclination to marry Felicity Holloway.”

The Countess‘ mouth pursed, “No? I have heard she is a lovely girl.” She forced a smile and he noted that it looked a little pained. Honestly, the Countess had never deemed him important enough to speak much with. Only pleasantries; and she had never actively seemed him out. “Any other ladies who have caught the attention of our elusive Mr. Sinclaire? Perhaps that is why you seek counsel from my husband?”

Ernest was relatively certain that his facial features were properly reflecting his feelings on this conversation, he started with a tense voice, “You so is both a disservice by—“

Mr. Woods returned, “My apologies for the delay Mr. Sinclaire, the earl is ready to receive you.” His eyes briefly flicked over the the Countess, “My apologies, madam.”

Sinclaire gave the steward a small closed mouth smile, “Thank you, Mr. Woods if you’ll excuse me,” he added to Henrietta as he followed the steward to the familiar study where he said, “Mr. Woods, *thank you* again.” Mr. Woods nodded once before knocking on the study door again.

All of a sudden, his palms were damp again, his nerves raging to the forefront again as Vincent called for him to come in. He took a deep breath , opened the door and slowly stepped inside. “Ernest! So good to see you.” He stood and walked over to shake Ernest’s hand. He was jovial today despite the amount of paper on his desk. “Very pleasant to see you, but I’m sure there’s a reason for this visit? I know you typically don’t return home during the season unless there’s a reason.”

Ernest blanked— not ready yet, for the conversation he came to have. “How have things been here?”

Vincent winced, clearly not the topic he should have chosen, “You shouldn’t worry over such things.” He paused, “Your first dinner party was a success, yes?”

Ah, that first dinner party. He had known since the garden party in Lady Isabel’s honor, that he’d been in trouble. He hadn’t— until she’d arrived to his dinner part— realized how much. He had simply been driven to distraction by her. Everything about her- from the beautiful red dress, to her teasing him about being a closet romantic— but it was when she followed him outside, when none of the people whom he might call friends would have (or did)- even knowing it could be perceived as improper... Well he hadn’t expected it, nor the conversation that came after. She had expressed concern for him. She’d told him that if the parties he hosted made him miserable, that he should stop. Concerned about his happiness and welfare. She was so unlike the others of the Gentry- likely due to her modest upbringing- she was genuine. Even if she were bound polite society and manners, if she was not pleased, you could tell- if you were paying attention. And he... he found himself paying far too much attention. “Yes, I would consider it successful... Duke Richards decided to... honor...us with his presence.” He just managed to keep the sneer from his voice. The man had always set his nerves on edge— Lady Isabel’s presence only made it worse.

“The Duke... does have a tendency to do what suits him when he wants to.” Vincent’s hand unconsciously went to a letter on his desk, crinkling the paper slightly.

Ernest’s head tilted slightly, “The Duke has contacted you?”

“It is a matter I am not eager to respond to. It requires no urgency on my behalf. While your visit is a pleasant surprise, Ernest, I surmise you did not come for small talk, or to discuss the Duke.”

“No sir, I did not.” ‘Why is this so difficult?!’ He wondered. He hadn’t hesitated when talking to Evelyn’s father before their engagement— he hadn’t been worried, as it had nearly been arranged for years prior to it actually happening. Their families had been close but while Ernest had always been fond of Evelyn, if her father—or she— declined, he wouldn’t have been as hurt as... as he may be now. This— this was entirely different. Ernest was afraid. Afraid he could lose the friendship he’d built with the earl, as well as Edmund but his biggest fear; the one he found hardest to face was the potential of losing her. The most beautiful woman in the world to him, the most challenging, the most worthwhile. The only one he could picture himself spending the rest of his life with. “I...” ‘Why won’t the words come?!”

Vincent gave him a very kind smile, gesturing to the chair across from him, “it’s a rare sight to see you struggling for words, Ernest.” The younger man face him a small smile, “Is this about Isabel?”

The smile came more naturally this time, as he nodded once, “Nearly everything is since she’s joined our lives.”

The earl chuckled, “She does have a way about her, doesn’t she? Even Edmund has taken a shining to her.”

“Yes! She’s helped draw him out.”

“Only him?” Vincent asked, and at the heat that lit across the younger mans cheeks, he added, “I’ve both seen and heard that you’re a changed man, Ernest. All for the better of course.”

“Thank you sir.”

“You are... fond? Of my daughter?”

Ernest sucked in a breath, studying his hands a moment before he met the elders gaze, “You know me well enough to know I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”

Vincent rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “Exactly what is it you wanted to discuss, my friend?” His attention was fully on him now.

After gathering his thoughts for a moment, Ernest plunged in, “I want... I want to marry Isabel.” Where as his voice started out a little hesitant, he had ended confidently, “I came to ask if you would allow me the opportunity to make her my wife.”

The Earl stared at him for a long moment, his features unreadable- long enough that Ernest questioned if he’d made a mistake- misjudged their relationship. Ernest stood, the earl did too- his mouth pulling into a huge smile, as he pulled the younger Gentry man into an embrace, “Nothing... Nothing would make me happier. Back at her garden party, even I saw something between you.” When the earl pulled away, Ernest saw that tears had pooled in his eyes, “I did not want to force Isabel into a marriage, let alone one like mine. All I want is for her to be happy. I wish... I wish I had been strong enough to pursue what would have made me happy. You believe you will grow to love her?”

“I already do... If she will have me, I will spend the rest of my days striving to make her happy and proving that love to her.”

“Then go, my boy. You surely don’t have the time to coddle an old man. Go and claim your fiancé.” He took the paper he’d tattered on his desk, “The Duke. He has also asked for Isabel’s hand.” Ernest sucked in a breath again, “ I have... delayed my response, but he will not be put off for long. I was uncertain how to tell him no, without offending- or saying that all my Isabel could write about in her last missive was the incredibly charming and handsome Mr. Sinclaire.” He winked at him, as heat erupted in his face again, “Now I can honestly say that there have been other offers and Isabel is a woman of her own mind. Go claim her.”

[applebyarrows-official]

A Very Sheri(dan) Christmas 8 PM, December 25th, 2009

Perching uncomfortably in a stiff sitting room chair, near a quiet, flickering spark of a fire left in the ashes of the day’s burnings, Avery gazed out into the living space around them, taking in the wreckage that had sprouted from Christmas Day. Scattered on the floor were the torn remnants of the wrapping paper from many presents, as well as the many colored bows and ribbons that had topped them. Unwrapping gifts had taken place that morning, and it was long past sundown now, but no one could seem to bear cleaning up the holiday cheer. The only being set on doing anything this time of night after the celebrations were Jessica, who was off doing housework, and the dog. Avery had never been a big fan of dogs. Crups were one thing, as they were at least generally intelligent creatures, but even they were on thin ice! They thought fondly of the brief interaction they had had with the Headmaster’s crup as they informed him they’d be taking the holiday to visit family. Proper dogs though, they were a whole different can of worms. This dog, in particular. Avery looked cautiously at the dog in question--Jessica’s dog--and he looked back at them with a completely vacant expression. He was utterly idiotic, Avery thought, as they watched him try, again, to eat the lower branches of the Christmas tree. Jessica was proud of that dog. “He’s purebred, you know! Absolutely perfect in every way!” Jessica had spouted earlier today. The Hogwarts professor had sat through Jessica’s ramblings, thoroughly finding humor in the half-blooded witch being so incredibly proud of her designer idiot. As if he knew he was being thought poorly of, the Pomeranian trotted over to Avery’s exposed ankles and gave them a wet, sloppy lick. They lifted their feet up so they were out of dog-range, and tucked their toes underneath their legs, sitting barely on the seat, just barely out of reach of Chuffy’s mouth. Why were dog mouths always so wet? Avery frowned at Chuffy and shooed him away. As much as they tried to put up with being in this damn house, for Margie’s sake, they were not going to allow themselves to be subjected to and slobber that was not from their own pet, who was unfortunately stuck at the school while Avery was away.

It was just for a couple of days, but Jessica had told them straight off the bat that she didn’t want to introduce Chuffy to any cats, and Avery couldn’t promise that Ganymede would do well with such a small dog. He had hunted bigger things in Brazil than that Pomeranian, so maybe it was for the best, in the end. Sairish had promised to take good care of Ganymede, and Avery had told Ganymede to behave before they left. He might be upset for a little bit, but he’d be okay by the time they came back, and he'd be doubly affectionate upon their return, they were sure. It was just a matter of him behaving while they were away. Surely someone would write if he was causing problems at Hogwarts. A loud clatter from behind Avery, coming from the direction of the dining room caught their attention. They stood quickly, turning to see the source of the noise, only to see Jessica already stooping down to pick up a dropped platter and waving off Avery’s unspoken concern. “You are a guest,” she spoke clearly. “I will not have you lifting a finger to help clean in my house.” Ah, of course. Avery shrugged and returned to the stiff chair. This wasn’t their house anymore-- It was just hers. It would never be Avery and Jessica’s home again. Just…. Jessica’s house.  Avery was nothing more than a minimally wanted guest, staying the holiday to see their daughter. Jessica inviting Avery to stay the holiday had been nothing more than a peasantry, a “look, we’re doing just fine without you here,” now that they were back in the country again. Hell, it hardly seemed like Margie even wanted them here. The nine-year-old had only just barely managed to sit through the uncomfortable dinner with the three of them. She was much more excited to have time off of school this week and excited to wait up for Santa than she was the see Avery again. Perhaps seeing them outside of their regular summers was odd for her. Avery wasn’t supposed to get Margie again until late May. A long, wordlessly tense silence followed Jessica’s quick denial of any help that Avery had to offer. Now instead, they sat, once again returning to the terrible chair. They tried to relax into it, hoping that maybe sitting back into the cushions would soften them a bit. It did not.  Avery returned to watching the dying fire, only passingly noting as Jessica moved on from cleaning up the dining room and moved into another part of the house. Only the occasional sound of a passing car or muggle carolers singing broke through to Avery as they thought.

Suddenly, and with seemingly no warning, the sharp clunk of a heavy glass being set on a nearby side table startled them out of their thoughts. Quickly looking up to the source of the intrusion with a scowl etched into their features, Aver came face to face with the woman they had been thinking about, and the scowl vanished. Jessica held out a second glass towards them. “Ah, thank you.” Avery took a cautious sip of the offered beverage, briefly relishing in the familiar flavor before returning their gaze to the fireplace. “You know, if you stare at that fire long enough as intensely as you are, someone might start to think you were trying to get it to relight it without using your wand. What’s occupying your mind, Avery?” It would be asking for too much for Avery to choose to be completely honest with Jessica. Instead, the chose to keep silent for a long minute, mulling over just what exactly they should say back. “Oh, nothing much,” they replied eventually. “My mind was just wandering. You understand how I can be sometimes. I was thinking about how the other professors are holing up. You remember how restless the students can get when they stay at school over winter break. I just hope they’re managing with all the troublemakers we have this year.” Jessica smiled half-heartedly, most likely thinking about the adventures the two of them had shared over their own breaks, creating and causing havoc in the castle. “I didn’t ever think I’d see the day when Avery Sheridan turned over the ‘concerned professor's’ leaf in the place of the ‘quiet, rebel troublemaker’ leaf. It suits you.” She sighed deeply before continuing. “Taking that teaching position has really done some good to you. I’m glad it brought you to your senses about moving back into the country, even if it was a bit late. But,” she shrugged, “better ten years late than never, I suppose.” Jessica’s words seemed kind and joking on the surface, but Avery could all but taste the disgusting venom they were truly laced with. “Yep… better late than never, that’s what people always say, isn't it?” Avery forced a smile onto their face and gritted their teeth. Surely, Jessica wasn’t planning on having this conversation again, especially not with Margie sleeping upstairs. “But hey, I’m here now, and that’s what matters at the end of the day. Margie won’t have to go across the ocean to go between our homes anymore. I want to be better at this parenting thing. I want to make it all easier for her, you know? Especially before she comes to school. As much as I like being a professor, I want to be Margie’s parent before I’m her professor. I’m grateful that you’re allowing me to take a more active role in her life by inviting me for the holidays and that sort of thing before she comes to Hogwarts, Jessica. Thank you.” The tension that followed Avery’s thanks was thick enough to cut with a holiday carving knife. Avery glanced up at Jessica. “What’s the matter? Dog got your tongue?” “Marjorie will not be attending Hogwarts.” Jessie’s words severed the space between them both. “Pardon?” “I’m sorry, did you not hear me? Margie will not be attending Hogwarts.” “And why, pray tell, is our daughter not going to be attending the prestigious wizarding school we both went to?” “Because, Alberich, our daughter is a fucking squib, which you would very well know if you had spent any more time with your daughter than the couple weeks during the summers you were graciously given! She’s nine! There’s been no leviations, no color changes, nothing! Not a single thing other magical parents look forward to experiencing with their child! And I had to deal with that alone.” Avery stood quickly to their full height at Jessica’s raised voice, towering over their ex-wife, watching as she stood to match their gaze, unfaltering. Both of their faces were covered in deep-set frown lines, each of their furious intents matching the other’s. “How dare you” Avery’s voice came out in a curt whisper before raising to a volume just under a shout. “How dare you call me that fucking name. You have no right! How dare you blame me for thinking that my daughter was going to be an amazing witch one day, and for being excited about it! How DARE you act like it was my choice to split Margie’s time between us and to not have very much time with her. How DARE you blame my focus on my career for me not being around! You don’t think I know that I’ve been a shitty parent? You don’t think I want to try harder? That’s why I’m here, Jessica! I’m fucking trying, which is more than some other shitty fucking parents can say about their goddamn liv--”

“Baba? Mum? What’s going on?” Avery turned quickly towards the stairs where a soft-spoken girl, rubbing her bleary, sleepy eyes stood, and they felt their heartbreak. Of all the things they had wanted, Margie listening to them fight was never one of them. Jessica recovered first. “Go back to bed, lovely. Your father and I were just talking about what school he wanted you to go to when you’re older. I told him that you would be attending the local high school with your friends, as we talked about. It’s nothing to worry about tonight.” Avery bit their tongue and the obvious sleight by Jessica, for Margie’s sake, watching as Margie nodded slowly and turned around to go back to her room. Avery looked backed towards Jessica, an apology already forming on the tip of their tongue. “Jessie, I’m so sor--” “Stop.” Jessica held up her hand and looked away. “I don’t want to hear anything come out of that damn mouth of yours, least of all those words.” Jessica picked up the two glasses that had been left on the side table by the both of them. Not saying a word as she turned away and walked towards the dining room, Chuffy following happily behind her. Without so much as a glance back, she spoke again. “I think you should go.” Avery watched in silence as their life fell to pieces before them once again. Their daughter was likely confused and hurt because her parents were fighting, and Jessica wouldn’t want to try being friends again, not after this. Not even for Margie’s sake. The best they could ever be was cordial. They ran their fingers through their hair, messing it up in the process, before swearing and shuffling to pick up their things from the guest room before heading back to the castle. Hopefully, no one would ask why they came back so much earlier than they had planned.

[seriouslyhooked]

Some Call It Magic (A CS AU) Part 11/?

When Killian Jones moves to Storybrooke he instantly senses something strange about this little town in Maine but he’s willing to overlook all the bizarre signs for one reason: the single Mum living next door to him. There’s only one problem. Killian is nearly positive she’s a witch, a brewing potions and casting spells witch. But when true love is involved, does a little thing like magical powers really matter? Story rated M.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10. Also On FF Here.

A/N: So finally at long last this chapter brings the big reveal and like I said it’s probably not going to come in the way you guys expect (unless you’re prophetic like Henry is in this fic, then you could have guessed it). I’ve had this idea in my head since this AU first entered my brain and it was one of the first scenes I ever envisioned when I debated writing this fic at all. That being said there will be some angst, a little drama, but I PROMISE we will end in a good place with all the fluff and feels I am known for. It’s also a longer chapter than normal to fit all of this comfortably in one installment (really like two chapters in one). Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

About a week after the harvest festivities and the seasonal Storybrooke spell, the happy high that had been procured from Emma and Killian’s night alone was still holding strong. Six whole days had come and gone, and in that time there had been only the briefest windows of alone time for the two of them. But somehow all of those good feelings that connecting in a most intimate way had brought forth managed to not slip away in the slightest.

This was crucial to Emma and very much appreciated, especially during a week like the one she’d just had. It was one of those weeks where everything seemed to go haywire simply because the Universe felt like messing with her. There had been hiccups at Stay a Spell and some unexpected, supernaturally induced flare-ups throughout town that needed Emma and her friends’ attention, and most days it felt like between work and Henry and all of her responsibilities Emma should have been run ragged. But that fatigue and exhaustion never actually hit her, because time and time again Killian stepped in to help. He had made himself available to Emma in every way, from offering to get Henry settled after school on days when things at the café were running late, to making her life easier or sweeter with thoughtful gestures like cooking her dinner or bringing in her favorite flowers to the café.

In all honesty, Killian had an almost uncanny ability to read Emma’s needs and wants and to predict what would help most in any given situation. He was so tuned into her, so good at observing the truth beneath the brave face she was always putting up, and to feel his support and his honest desire to be there for her this week had only emboldened all of the love that had been growing for him for weeks. Killian was making it impossible not to fall for him, and since she finally had a day that allotted for down time, Emma wanted to return the favor and do something special for him. But in order to preserve the surprise of her intentions, Emma was packaging her gift as something else so Killian wouldn’t catch on.

Tonight was going to be another evening for the two of them to get some much needed time alone, but first she was going to host not just Killian, but all of her friends for a good old fashioned family dinner. After that Ruby would ‘just so happen’ to offer to have Henry at her house for the night. Henry of course would love that idea because he thought Ruby and Graham were just about the coolest (though he never said that in mixed company so as not to hurt Emma’s other friends) and because they had a whole room dedicated to movie watching right down to a popcorn machine and reclining seats. Emma had never in her life seen Henry resist the chance to go over there, especially not when he got to be the one selecting the movie, and because of that Emma wasn’t worried at all about sending him with Ruby tonight. It would allow her a whole evening without worrying and the chance to thank Killian properly for being so amazing with everything as of late.

“And you’re sure there isn’t anything you need help with, Swan?”

Killian posed the query from his place just behind her at the kitchen island. His hands lay on her hips and his lips hovered close to her ear, letting the warmth of his breath tingle against the sensitive spot at the question. He whispered his words in a way that sent a not so subtle thrill through Emma, and he cut through her wandering thoughts about everything that would be happening tonight with that sexy as hell accent of his that she never got tired of. His voice alone was enough to pull Emma back into the here and now, but where he might be a total master of seduction on the one hand, Killian was also a sweet-hearted gentleman truly looking to come to her aid right now.  

“I hate to leave you with all of this work. It doesn’t seem right,” he continued, searching her face as if there was a hidden task for him to undertake etched along the lines of her expression.

“Killian, it’s fine. Trust me. This is what I do and for me cooking isn’t actually work, especially not when it’s for people I care about and a recipe I want to be making,” Emma said as she waved at the mass quantities of ingredients and already started dishes before them, silently trying to convey that the wide array of comfort food she was preparing for tonight was exactly the kind of fare she loved to make. “Besides, David and Graham will not be happy if you blow off ‘bro bonding’ just to distract me from dinner prep.”

Emma could see the light that came to Killian’s eyes at her words as she turned her face up to look at his over her shoulder, and she was sure there were a variety of ways in which he wanted to respond. Part of him seemed to love her insinuation that he would only stay to distract her, and more flutters coursed through Emma at the gleam in his gaze that spoke of so much heat and passion. But he ended up siding with a safer and more PG response, which was for the best given the fact that Henry was just in the other room.

“Bro bonding? Please tell me that isn’t an actual thing, love.”

“It’s not. At least not to anyone other than Mary Margaret and Ruby who live for jazzing up basic activities with ridiculous names.”

Killian chuckled low at that before spinning Emma around gently so they were face to face and the next thing she knew he was kissing her. It was soft and yet still lit the flame inside her that only came alive with him, but where Emma was ready to really lean into this and lose herself in the feel of being so wrapped up in Killian, he was the one with his head on straight who remembered their situation. Right now all they could have was a simple kiss, but from the look in Killian’s eyes as he pulled back from her, there would be so much more on the horizon if only they were patient.

“I guess I should be going then, but can I at least pick something up to make things easier for you? Culinary genius or not, you shouldn’t have to handle everything on your own, Emma.”

“Just bring yourself,” Emma said as her hand ran along his chest playfully and she smiled up at him. “Oh and an appetite, because there’s a fifty/fifty chance that Ruby will challenge you and the other guys to an eating contest.”

“You’re kidding,” Killian said with a laugh and Emma shook her head as Henry’s voice came in from where he was now standing in the doorway to the living room smiling at them.

“She’s not! Ruby always challenges people. David almost matched her one time, but Kristoff…”

Henry trailed off as if he couldn’t find words for just how outmatched Kristoff was when it came to showdowns with Ruby and Emma bit her lip to keep her smile from going any wider. She knew exactly what her son was getting at, and now her mind was replaying one particular afternoon where Ruby had beaten Kristoff so badly that he ended up spending half of the barbeque they were all attending sprawled out on the grass praying to not explode. It shouldn’t have been as funny as it was, but Anna’s husband had realized he could make his wife laugh if he moaned like a third-rate banshee and most of the party had been conducted with a soundtrack of Kristoff making noises that sounded more like a wounded animal than a grown man in a public setting.

“Anna’s husband is not a prize eater I take it?” Killian asked and Henry shook his head gravely.

“Not at all,” he said like it was the saddest thing, and Emma and Killian shared a look about the twinge of drama Henry was adding to this whole thing. Turned out her kid was quite the actor. Who knew?

“Well I will do my best to bring honor to the family, lad. Not to worry,” Killian affirmed as he slapped his hand on Henry’s shoulder. Only where it seemed like a totally normal thing to say to both Killian and to Henry, Emma stood there frozen as the words hit her ears wondering what exactly he’d meant.

Was Killian talking about all of them when he said ‘the family,’ or was it just a turn of phrase that was harmless and didn’t mean anything more than the chance to match Henry’s dramatic flair? Emma didn’t know but she wanted to ask so badly, and when Henry ran upstairs a few minutes later to go call Grace and tell her about the eat-off and invite her and her Dad to the party, Emma was tempted to do so. The words were right there on the tip of her tongue and then the front door opened and the unexpected cavalry arrived in the form of all of her friends carrying a mountain of additional food and more wine then a small country would know what to do with.

“Emma, we know you said don’t bring anything, but -,” Mary Margaret stopped short as she carried her bundles of supplies in her arms before noticing that Killian was also in the kitchen with Emma and then proceeded to cause a pileup of the friends behind her. They all knocked into each other but managed to keep their balance before the lot of them started grinning ear to ear. “Oh, sorry. We didn’t realize you already had company.”

Ha! Didn’t realize my ass, Emma thought to herself because there was no way that they hadn’t assumed it was at least a possibility, but she was just grateful that as far as moments to interrupt went, this one was rather tame. Yes she had something she’d wanted to ask Killian, and it might just kill her to have to wait on clarifying that talk of family, but at least there’d been a little space between her and Killian unlike some other scenarios Emma could recall when interruption had barged right on in.

“Not to worry, love,” Killian said with a wave of his hand though Emma could see the tiniest flicker of disappointment as he greeted her friends, telling her he too was sad their time together this afternoon was being cut short. “I’m off actually. I’ve got to go see about formulating a friendship with your husband I’m afraid.”

“It’s a lot of work, but someone has to do it,” Ruby replied with a smirk. “At least that’s what Graham always says.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know my husband is extremely likeable and a great friend,” Mary Margaret professed.

“Aye, Dave’s a regular Prince Charming. But best to keep his ego in check. That’s what real mates do,” Killian explained before looking back to Emma and taking her hand in his once more, his thumb brushing over her knuckles with the slightest pressure that sparked all her yearning and awareness all over again. “So I’ll see you later, Swan?”

“Absolutely,” Emma agreed and with one last swift kiss and a goodbye to everyone Killian was gone and Emma was left, yet again, with a band of nosey best friends all looking for the scoop on something she would rather keep private.

“Whatever it is you all have to say just get it out now, please and thank you.”

With Emma’s blessing it was pretty much a free for all of the friends talking over each other and Emma was only able to catch bits and pieces. Belle was talking about how she was sorry she couldn’t corral the others better. Mary Margaret was on about the look on Emma’s face and something about heart eyes. Ruby was obviously hyper sexualizing everything with innuendo and suggestion, but it was Anna and Elsa who won out in the end with their sing-songy chorus of ‘Ooo, you like him.’ That then got the attention of the other friends who decided to just join in and repeat it over and over again.

“All right, all right you all win! I surrender, happy? Jeez. You invite people over for dinner and how do they reward you?” Emma asked, posing it rhetorically but getting an answer all the same.

“By teasing you mercilessly, that’s how,” Ruby said though she was far more enthusiastic about it then Emma was.

“Okay, we get it, we’ll stop,” Elsa said with a tone of placation. “But only if we can open one of these bottles of wine. I don’t care if it’s only four, it has already been a day.”

The other friends all agreed, and Emma was just happy to have the distraction and the attention turned off of her and Killian. In the meantime Emma and Ruby ended up taking the joint role of finishing the cooking as they hung out with their friends in a scene that proved very familiar to all of them after so many years of similar gatherings. The six friends fell into their ever-easy repartee easily, mixing the conversation with a little bit of venting, a smidge of gossip, and a quick game of catch-up on where all of them were at with work and home. But about an hour into their hanging out, there was a small hiccup when someone mentioned Emma’s magical flare up last weekend and how they’d only just managed to get rid of the evidence of her enchanted flowers and golden mist.

Emma’s immediate reaction in the face of the magical conversation was to freeze, looking to the doorway and double-checking that Killian wasn’t around. She immediately felt foolish for it because there was no way she wouldn’t notice him, but there was also a sudden surge of guilt about all of this. Because not only had she created a problem for her friends to deal with, she hadn’t even lived up to her promise to tell Killian and her pushing off the confession was starting to effect other people in a way she’d never wanted to happen.

“Hey, Ems, you all right?” Anna asked and Emma shook her head trying to scatter away those negative thoughts before nodding and attempting to play it cool.

“Yeah I’m fine. I just have to go check on something real quick,” she said before leaving the kitchen and heading out to get a bit of air out on the front walk.

The fall chill in the air was harsh and piercing for a moment when Emma first stepped outside, but the briskness did help her clear her mind and feel a bit calmer. Out there Emma could better collect herself and breathe through the impending panic that would come if she didn’t get ahead of it. But getting ahead of it was easier said than done when Emma was still carrying the burden of this secret. Until she managed to be totally honest with Killian she was going to continue to struggle with all of these old pitfalls and bad feelings, and though she wouldn’t trade the last week of bliss for anything, Emma was feeling the weight of hiding something from the man she’d grown to truly love on her heart and in her mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice that turned out to be Ruby’s asked from the doorway and Emma turned around with an attempt at a smirk at her best friend’s appearance.

“I think they’re worth just a bit more than that.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Ruby said as she reached into the pockets of her jeans and pulled out a wad of crumpled up bills and some loose change. “It looks like I’ve got about fifteen fifty or so. Will that do?”

Emma laughed at Ruby’s joke and felt the vice in her chest easing slightly. The mere action of laughter was able to push away some of the anxious ache, but underneath the humor there was a real conversation Ruby wanted to have and Emma wasn’t really in the mood to hash all of this out right now. She didn’t feel like she needed any more advice. She knew what she had to do and she knew she was in the wrong. Why continue to drone on and on about it when they could just get back to the fun of before?

“Afraid not,” Emma said as she slipped back inside with Ruby following her, but where Emma thought she was free and clear, Ruby wasn’t backing down, calling out to Emma just as she made it to the staircase and before she’d gotten close to the kitchen.

“Look, Emma, I don’t want to push you but I’m just a little concerned. Clearly what we said about your magic got to you back there, which means you still haven’t filled Killian in yet. You told Belle and I you were going to tell him the truth, but that was a week ago...”

“I know, I know. The timing hasn’t been right though,” Emma said, knowing it was a half assed explanation and that if she had really wanted to she could have made the time.

“Bull shit! The timing is never going to be right, Emma, and you know that. It’s going to be worse than ripping off a damn Band-Aid right until the moment when you’ve said it, and then it’ll be fine. You’re just letting yourself get caught up in this cycle of fear. Killian’s not going anywhere, so why are we still pretending that there’s a chance that he is?”

Emma stayed quiet at that, realizing that there was no way to articulate her feelings on this because they were divided and muddled and messy. It wasn’t a clean-cut situation despite what every conversation she and her friends had had seemed to indicate. This would be a charged moment in Emma’s life, a critical time when things could either turn for the better or sour into something so much worse, and since right now things were really really good Emma didn’t want to chance it. She wanted to just be happy for once without some looming threat or deep dark secret scaring her, but choosing that happiness, as Ruby was so rightly pointing out, meant she was living in a shady form of denial that couldn’t and shouldn’t last.

“Look, Emma, I get it -,” Ruby began, but Emma interrupted before her friend could continue on.

“No you don’t!” Emma yelled, losing her temper in the sight of Ruby trying to tell Emma how she felt. It was harsh, and meaner than Emma meant to be, but at the same time she couldn’t let that stand. No one understood. No one got it. Emma didn’t even understand the full extent of her mindset right now, so how in the hell could Ruby presume to know? “You really, don’t Ruby. All of this is… well it’s a walking shit storm. It’s not just my baggage and my fears I have to worry about. I have Henry. I have to protect him, even if it sometimes means compromising on what people think will make me happy.”

Ruby’s eyes softened at the mention of Henry and Emma felt kind of guilty for using her kid in this argument. Yes, a chunk of her anxiety about all of this came back to the most important person in her world who she would protect no matter what, but the biggest part had nothing to do with Henry. Her son was strong and tough. He was a lover through and through with a resilient heart and he could make it through anything, of that Emma was sure. But Emma? Well she wasn’t as strong as Henry or her friends because she’d been trampled on before. She’d had her heart shattered and her faith broken and now that it was finally feeling whole again and she was tasting what it meant to truly know a love like the ones people only dreamed about, she couldn’t handle the thought of watching it slip away.

“Okay maybe I don’t understand,” Ruby countered softly but still with a stern sense of purpose. “But I’m trying, and I know Killian will try too if you just give him the chance.”

Emma knew in her heart that was accurate, and she was just about to confirm that Ruby was right when interruption came from an unexpected place. It turned out that Henry, who Emma thought was tucked away in his room enjoying being in his own world for a little while, was standing higher up on the stairs watching them with his sailing book in hand, and the look in his eyes was a mix of fear, sadness, and defensiveness.

“You have to tell him, Mom,” Henry said sternly. “Killian loves you – he loves us – and the only way we can be a family is if you tell him the truth.”

Hearing that plea from her son gutted Emma in a way she couldn’t readily wrap her head around. On the one hand it was beautiful that Henry was so attached to Killian. That was exactly what she’d been wishing for and yet never would have dared to dream. She could hope that Henry and Killian could be close so Henry could have a good strong male role model in his life and another adult figure to lean on when he needed help, but Emma had always been guided by realism. It was too much to expect, and yet here was Henry saying that he did feel that way.

But then there was the other shoe that just had to drop, the part of her jaded mind that had to nag about how only fools rushed into things like this and how Henry could get hurt. He was investing so much in Killian and in the idea of Emma and Killian making it, but what if this ended? What if all of her worst nightmares came true and she wasn’t the only one left with a broken heart, but Henry too? Her son loved so strongly and believed in goodness with all his soul; Emma couldn’t bear the thought of him tasting the sorrow of losing his hope over something she’d put him through.

“Kid, it’s not that easy…” Emma began, but Henry shook his head, uninterested in hearing her excuses.

“Yes it is, Mom! You love him and he loves you and nothing’s going to change that. You two are supposed to be together. I know it, and you know it too but you’re too scared because of what my Dad did to even try.”

The mention of his father, a man who Emma and Henry never talked much about because Henry had always been aware of how it hurt her to do so, cut like a knife through Emma’s resistance. She’d tried her best to shield Henry from the ugly truth of his father’s abandoning her, but she hadn’t ever lied to him, and somehow Henry must have put the pieces together about what Neal had done. But where Henry was brave enough to call out this part of the story, it was too much for Emma to speak so casually about her past heartbreak, and the tears that had already been forming in her eyes at feeling caged in and attacked from Ruby’s pushing fell past her cheeks.

“Henry, please you have to understand -,”

“No!” Henry said at the same moment that there was a loud rumbling outside that sounded like thunder. Quickly the three of them looked to the window and saw that the skies had notably darkened since Emma and Ruby came back inside and the once sunny if chilly day had shifted dramatically so it looked like a storm was coming in. “You have to tell him, Mom. Promise me you’ll tell him.”

Emma’s heart broke at the insistence from Henry and she hesitated a moment, not because she wasn’t going to tell Killian, because she was, but because she could see a shadow of her old self in Henry’s eyes. His hope in good things happening was already being hurt because of her, and she’d sworn she’d never do that. Right now she was the problem and not Killian, and Emma was finally ready to fully accept that and put herself out there, making a promise to Henry to do so tonight. But Henry must have taken her momentary silence as a sign that Emma was giving up on Killian, because the next thing she knew he was sprinting from the house without giving her the chance to respond and heading into the completely unexpected torrential downpours happening outside.

“Henry!” Emma yelled as she ran to the front door, but he was already gone, already out of sight and finally the dam burst and Emma realized just what a mess she’d made and how much she’d truly put in danger for the sake of her own walls. She rushed into the yard trying to catch sight of him, but the rain was falling so fast and so harshly that she couldn’t make anything out. She was completely soaked in seconds, but Emma kept calling for Henry as Ruby ran outside to join her.

“Emma, there’s no way we can cut through a storm like this on our own, but if we use a locator spell we can track him faster.”

Emma nodded, running back into the house with Ruby and then sprinting into the living room as Ruby grabbed a map and a crystal and their other friends came barreling in.

“What happened?” Anna asked and Ruby filled in as best she could.

“Henry misunderstood something and he ran off in the storm. Visibility is terrible so we need magic.”

That was all the others needed to hear to get in on the action, and with a swiftness Emma didn’t think was possible they had chanted out the spell required, watching as the crystal shone a bright blue color Emma didn’t recognize from any of their magic before and the swinging pendent they were using continued to circle around. The only problem was it never stopped, and despite all of them being together and doing this in earnest, no location came.

“Why isn’t it working?” Emma asked, her voice so clogged with dread it barely came out as anything more than a choked sob.

“Something’s blocking our magic,” Belle said with confusion and her own sense of fear mingled in. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Could it be the storm?” Elsa asked and Belle didn’t know the answer, leaving Emma with only one option.

“I have to go,” she said as she ran for the door again and grabbed two jackets this time, one for her and one for Henry. “You guys keep trying and you call me if he comes back. Okay?”

“We’ve got it,” Ruby agreed as she grabbed her phone. “And I’m calling Graham. We’ll find him, Emma. I promise you we will find him.”

Emma didn’t know if she could believe that, but she heard in the back of her mind the voice of her son telling her that she had to believe and that she had to have hope. Without it she could never win and good things couldn’t happen, and after everything Emma couldn’t bear to fail Henry. She had to have faith that she could find him, and when she did she would show him just how wrong she’d been before by making this right and fixing what it was that she’d broken by keeping her secrets at all.

……………

After months of living in a picture perfect town that had barely seen a day that wasn’t pleasantly filled with blue skies and sunshine, Killian never really expected a storm like this to reach the shores of Storybrooke. Despite the research he’d done when trying to figure out what was going on here, and despite his understanding that storms would always come no matter where one lived, it was unsettling how swiftly the clouds had rolled in this evening. One moment it had been a relatively clear afternoon with little wind and no rain in the forecast, but now the skies were darkening, the winds were growing more and more turbulent, and Killian’s own fear was rising because the only thing he could think was that this had to have something to do with magic and that could mean Emma was in trouble.

“This isn’t good, man,” David said from beside Killian inside of the bar where Killian, David, Graham, and Kristoff had just finished grabbing a drink. “This is really not good.”

“It almost looks like it’s going to be a full blown hurricane,” Kristoff acknowledged as he stared out into the darkness like he couldn’t believe it.

“Those don’t come here often I take it,” Killian stated, his eyes darting towards his car out on the main road as he moved to grab his jacket. It was time for him to be going, and then he watched as the clouds opened up and suddenly the rain had hit and it was pouring down faster than should have ever been possible so quickly.

“No they don’t,” David said just as Graham’s radio went off with Ruby’s voice calling through the static with a clear note of panic.

“Graham!”

“Ruby, what is it?” Graham asked into the transponder. “Are you hurt? Where are you?”

“It’s Henry. He ran off when he heard Emma and I talking and now we can’t find him. We even used magic, the strongest we have, and… Graham, we can’t find him.”

The cold chill that ran through Killian at that moment when he found out Henry was missing was the single worst thing he’d ever felt in his life. Henry was alone and out in this storm? That couldn’t be. That just couldn’t be! But Ruby would never joke about something like this and the fear in her voice had to be only the tiniest shred of what Emma was feeling right now.

“It’s all right, we’ll track him down. Do you have any idea where he was heading?”

“No. We just watched him sprint out the front door and then he was gone. Graham, you need to get here please. And bring Killian, fast.”

That was all either of them needed to hear to be in motion, and David and Kristoff were hot on their tail, but then Killian caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, something that didn’t belong there. He turned and saw that it was pages, pages of a book floating in the wind down the street and it shouldn’t have mattered, but his gut was telling Killian this was important. Somehow this was a key to finding Henry. He ran down towards the pages and when he caught one in hand it hit him like a ton of bricks – this was a page from the book he’d gifted Henry months ago about sailing. It was one of a kind, the only one in Storybrooke according to Belle. It had to mean something.

“Killian!” Graham yelled through the rain. “We’ve gotta go!”

“I think I know where he is!” Killian yelled back, but by now the winds were howling louder and a crack of thunder had pierced through the sky, drowning out his words.

“What?!” David yelled back and there just wasn’t time to explain. Killian had a hunch he had to follow and it wasn’t strictly logical, but when it came to Emma’s boy he had to do everything he could, even if it didn’t make sense.

Sprinting in the opposite direction from them and down the main street, Killian sought out more of the pages and they were scattered everywhere, strewn about by the harsh winds and heavy rain, but still making a semi-recognizable trail that Killian intended to follow until the end.

In the few measly minutes it took to follow them the cracks of lightening grew more and more frequent as the trees along the roadside suffered from the harshness of the storm. Branches fell and Killian had a few close calls that made the time feel like it dragged on forever. He was terrified that something would happen to Henry out here and his heart was hammering as his feet pounded the pavement and he yelled out the boy’s name, but then the landscape cleared as he got to the docks and there, thank God in heaven, was something to hope about. Through the whipping of the wind and the swells of the tide, Killian could make out a figure on the boards, a silhouette Killian recognized as Henry.

“Henry!” he yelled and his voice was drowned out yet again by the winds so he ran closer despite the danger of being on the rickety boards, calling again. “Henry, get back from there!”

This time Henry turned and Killian watched as a bolt of lightening cracked over the sea and the thunder rumbled harder, but around Henry there was this aura of gray blue light. It looked like a storm materialized into a misty kind of essence, and in that moment Killian knew that the sudden storm that came out of nowhere had stemmed from something – or rather someone. Henry was the one causing all of this to happen, but it didn’t deter Killian’s attempt to save him. His only thought was to get the lad to safety and calm all of this down.

“I can’t!” Henry cried, his hands shaking as they faced upwards towards the sky like the lad couldn’t control the magic that was emanating from him at all.

Another large gust of wind knocked at Killian’s side then wanting to force him down to the ground or off the pier entirely, but he persevered and held fast, unwilling to buckle to the strength of the swells around them. Killian couldn’t be overtaken by this. He had to stay calm, and he had to get Henry to calm down too. It was the only way to stop this.

“Yes you can, Henry! You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“You don’t understand! I can’t! I’ve tried! I have to get as far away from town as I can! I have to protect everyone!”

Killian’s heart went out to the young boy who he’d come to love in his own right at the thought. He could recognize that sense of helplessness and total and complete fear that Henry must be experiencing. This was raw panic on Henry’s part and Killian had to be strong for him now even if he was afraid too. He couldn’t even imagine something happening to Henry, and if he hadn’t gotten out here when he did, who knew where Henry would have ended up, likely on a boat in the middle of the seas with no way back and no one to save him.

“I don’t know much about how this all works, lad, but I do know that there’s another way. You can stop the storm, Henry, but you have to believe you can!”

“Wait, you know?!” Henry asked, totally shocked, and another crack of lightening came down, this time on the sands just a hundred yards off. “You know about the magic?!”

“I do, lad. I’ve known a long time,” Killian admitted, since it was the truth. He’d known even before David confirmed things. In fact, part of him had known from the very first moment he locked eyes with Emma Swan on his first day here. There was something about that woman that outshone everything he’d ever encountered before, and magic was just one small part of that equation.

“But you’re still here,” Henry said and as the words left his lips the howling winds began to die down, as if the realization that Killian wasn’t fleeing for the hills was somehow the thing Henry needed to calm the storm inside of him.

“Of course I’m here! And if you think you can get rid of me with a measly little storm you can think again, mate.”

The joke was purposeful and the reaction he got from Henry when he said it told Killian that he had done the right thing. A laugh escaped Henry’s chest, and when it did there was a burst of blue light that rippled through the air around them, stunning the once volatile atmosphere into something still and calm. Just like that the worst of the storm was behind them, and the pelting rain began to ease off though Henry was still shivering from the cold, no doubt soaked the bone just as Killian was.

“Mom said if you found out you’d leave,” Henry said and it cut Killian deep to hear that but he fought off a grimace, reminding himself that Emma’s past had been filled with people who rejected her for her magic and that he had to be patient with her and show her he wasn’t like everyone else. “I didn’t believe it, but then I saw her crying to Ruby and I started to get scared. Mom doesn’t cry, but she said she couldn’t risk me getting hurt. The next thing I knew the storm came and I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t even know I could do that.”

That last part of Henry’s confession was whispered in awe and he looked from Killian back to the sky that was now clearing up as if he was trying to witness all of the raw and limitless power he’d just exuded. The once dark and oppressive clouds were lessening in their foreboding appearance, turning almost a silver color instead of the menacing charcoal black of before, and Henry was amazed at all of this which peaked Killian’s interest. Didn’t he realize he had magic?

“Are you not prone to changing weather patterns then?” Killian asked and Henry shook his head, finally glancing back at Killian.

“I don’t have any powers,” Henry stated like he’d said it a million times before and was resigned to that fact and Killian barked out a laugh before he could hold it back.

“Not so sure you can say that any longer, lad. Seems you’ve got gifts of your own after all.”

“And you’re not scared?” Henry asked, a bit of his concern still lingering despite Killian’s earlier promise. “Of me, or of Mom?”

“The only thing that scares me is the thought of losing you or your mother, Henry,” Killian admitted. “Anything else I can manage, but not that.”

Those words were enough to have Henry running forward and giving Killian a huge hug that Killian returned. He could feel in that moment the last of the charge around Henry dissolving, and now he knew the storm was truly behind them. They were safe, but they didn’t have time to stay this way and in this moment. They had to get back to Emma, and when he told Henry that his mother was worried sick Henry agreed, moving as quickly as he could with Killian at his side back home.

All the way back to the house, Killian was torn between keeping an eye on Henry to make sure that he was really safe and to check that the chill of the waters and the wind hadn’t impacted him too badly so far, and thinking of Emma’s response. There had to be a conversation today about the magic. There was no way there couldn’t be, not when Henry knew of Killian’s being in on most everything. Killian would never ask Henry to lie for him and that’s what would happen if Killian kept this secret any longer, but he was also saddened by the fact that it wouldn’t be Emma who told him.

He’d been waiting as patiently as he could for Emma to confide in him, and he’d thought the perfect moment had presented itself last weekend when she’d finally spent the night in his bed and had subsequently transformed his house into something out of the pages of a story book. He’d had to slip away from her just before dawn to check on something downstairs and he’d stumbled upon the wondrous creation that was Emma’s magic. Then he’d returned to her, convinced he wouldn’t fall asleep, but finding so much comfort in her embrace that he did, and the next thing he knew he was up for the morning and everything was gone. All of the magic he’d witnessed was contained and they’d acted as if nothing were amiss or different at all.

“She’s going to be so mad at me,” Henry said sadly, slicing through Killian’s own unhappy thoughts, though he didn’t lose steam in his march back home.

“No she won’t, lad. She’ll only be glad to see you safe. Your Mum was scared, not angry.”

“Are you sure?” Henry asked as they turned the corner to their street, but before Killian could reply, Emma herself answered Henry’s worried questioning.

“Henry!” Emma yelled, sprinting towards him as Henry did the same and when they met there in the middle of the street, Killian could see both of them were crying. But Emma was still trying to hold onto control and be strong for her son despite all the agony she must have been going through since the storm began. She held Henry close, not wanting to let go of her lost boy now found, and Killian could feel her love for the lad all the way from here. It was beautiful, a testament to the unbreakable bond between them, and Killian knew all he wanted in the world was to see and feel that love all the days of his life. “Thank God you’re okay, kid. You scared the crap out of me.”

“It was Killian, Mom,” Henry said as he pulled back. “Killian found me. He saved me.”

Emma’s eyes looked then from Henry to him and the impact was stronger than any of the lightening bolts that had just been tearing through the skies minutes before. There was nothing to separate Killian from everything Emma was feeling, and there he could see that this was the final straw, the last bit needed to crumble down those walls of hers forever. Maybe she didn’t confess that in so many words, for this was hardly the time to hash it all out, but when Killian was just before them Emma took his hand and held on tight.

“Thank you,” she whispered and Killian came to bring her trembling had to his lips and press a soft kiss there, feeling the cold of her skin and wishing he could take away all the pain and discomfort she’d been going through since Henry ran off.

“There’s no thanks needed, love. Let’s just get everyone inside and warm. We could use it after the swim we all just took.”

The sound of Emma’s laughter, even as it was frayed from the still present nerves of losing her son was like music to Killian’s ears and the same went for Henry’s as well. Seeing these two people who had come to mean everything to Killian safe and on the road to happiness once more made him feel like nothing else could. He was so grateful to have been able to be a part of that, but as he walked into Emma’s house and found everyone congregated together he didn’t expect their over the top responses.

For some reason they were all trying to paint him as some kind of hero, but that implied something that Killian wasn’t comfortable with. He hadn’t done this to be heralded as superior to anyone. He’d gone to find Henry because he couldn’t live with the thought of Emma or her son being in any kind of pain or danger. And as far as ‘saving’ Henry went, it just wasn’t an accurate depiction of the dynamics between them. Because yes, Killian might have helped bring Henry home safely tonight, but this young boy and his mother had saved Killian ten times over between letting him into their lives and hearts and showing him just how good life could be if spent with the right people. He owed the two of them more than he could ever repay, and if anyone deserved celebration it was them.

“Here,” David said at one point as he handed Killian clothes he recognized as his own.  “I ran over and grabbed you something to change into. Figured you wouldn’t want to leave after everything.”

“You figured right,” Killian agreed before thanking David and getting himself out of his own sopping mess of an ensemble.

It felt good to be out of that dampness, and even better when he emerged to find Elsa and Belle had started a fire, but a real sense of peace didn’t return until Emma and Henry came back from upstairs looking warmer and safer than they had been minutes before. Only then did Killian start to relax, though he remained vigilant all through the night as Emma insisted (via Henry’s request) that they could still have the dinner together and there was a general merriment that brewed in the face of such a close call.

The evening was pleasant, even more so because Emma very rarely left Killian’s side and because Henry had really bounced back in a miraculous way, but Killian would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad when it was over and the rest of the guests all took their leave. Finally after hours of waiting he had the opportunity he needed to talk to Emma, and when Henry went upstairs for bed after a quick goodnight to both Killian and his mother, Killian was ready to do so. The only problem was that Emma beat him to the punch, taking lead of the conversation before he could hope to do so.

“Killian, I don’t know how to thank you enough for what you did for Henry. If you hadn’t been there…” Emma closed her eyes as she burrowed into his chest, no doubt thinking of what the worst of situations might have been, but Killian wouldn’t let her wander to those darker thoughts. Instead he led her back over to the comfort of the couch before the roaring fire and held her closer to try and set her mind at ease.

“It’s as I said before, love, there’s no need to thank me. I love Henry and I’d never let anything happen to him,” Killian promised, meaning every word.

“You love him?” Emma asked, her voice suddenly charged in a different direction and her eyes filling with hope and surprise all at once, making her impossibly more beautiful than she already was.

“Aye, love. How could I not? He’s the brightest lad I’ve ever met with a good heart and charm enough to endear anyone,” Killian said and Emma smiled, no doubt thinking that she agreed with all of that. But suddenly Killian decided he didn’t want to hold back. It was time to get the truth out there between them, at least on this one front. He didn’t want to hold back how he felt anymore, and the wait for a perfect time was done. “Besides, I gave my heart to his mother a long time ago, and since your heart lies with Henry, Swan, mine must do the same.”

The look on Emma’s face like she couldn’t quite believe him but she so desperately wanted to was the final nudge Killian needed to lay it all out there between them. He had to tell her right now that he loved her, magic and all, but he couldn’t even get the first word of that sentiment out before Emma was interrupting him with her own confession.

“I have magic powers!” she said bluntly and Killian was shocked, not by the magical revelation but by the fact that Emma had been the one to tell him in the end just as he’d hoped.

“What?” Killian asked, almost not believing that he had heard her say those words he’d been waiting for.

“Oh god, that’s not how I was going to say that,” Emma muttered before launching into a fast-paced admission that Killian had to work hard to understand. “All right, look, um, there’s no easy way to put this so I will just say it – I have magic, abilities, talents you could say that can’t be explained by science or logic or ‘normal’ frames of thought. I can do things that regular people can’t do like cast spells and harness energies and I’ve been able to do it my whole life.”

“Okay,” Killian said with a measured tone, not wanting to pry when Emma was clearly so emotionally frayed, but also wanting desperately to know more about all of this. 

“I didn’t ask for this and for a long time I thought I was a total side show, a freak at best and a monster at worst. But then I came to Storybrooke and that changed. I’m a lot better at controlling it than I used to be and I only use my powers for good. I would never manipulate anyone or do harm or anything like you sometimes see in the movies, and I don’t want you to think that somehow I’ve played you by keeping this a secret. It’s just that-,”

Seeing that Emma’s state of mind was swiftly unraveling and that she was sending herself into a tizzy over something that didn’t merit such worrying, Killian did the only thing he could think which was to kiss her. He utilized his best tool of distraction to quiet her words and hopefully the anxious voices in her mind, and when Emma began to kiss him back he knew he’d succeeded. At least for this moment she was with him, and by the time they pulled apart, she still seemed shocked but also more at peace than she’d just been.

“It’s just that a secret like this can gnaw a hole in you and make you second guess everything, and you had to be totally sure of the man I was before you could share it and risk both you and Henry,” Killian filled in and Emma’s sweet smile returned, a look of relief shining through her eyes and setting the last piece of his heart squarely in her hand. She had all of it now, all of him, and there was no coming back from that in any way.

“Exactly,” Emma whispered before she blinked back some of the mistiness in her eyes. “But wait, you’re not freaking out. Why are you not freaking out?”

“Well it certainly explains some things, love,” Killian said, hesitant about whether he should tell her that he’d already known, but he needn’t have worried, because soon after a look of understanding crossed Emma’s face and her smile turned to a knowing smirk.

“You found out somehow, didn’t you?”

“There have been a few hints along the way, yes,” Killian said kindly, not wanting to make her feel bad with the fact that she hadn’t exactly been doing as good a job of hiding things as she believed. He knew Emma had been worried the past few months about this getting out before she was ready to tell him, and he didn’t want her to feel insecure about anything, not when this huge step deserved only celebration.

“But you stayed anyway,” Emma stated as her hands came to clutch his shirt tightly, almost like she couldn’t believe it and needed the physical proof that he was still here with her.

“I did. There’s nothing that could change my love for you, Emma. Certainly not something like this, which I see as a good thing and not something to be feared in the slightest.”

Killian meant that too. Everything he’d seen and everything he’d heard about magic led him to believe that it was a miracle and a gift. Why would he reject something that made this town a better place to live and made the woman he loved a better person? Magic only enabled Emma to do more good for others, and since she didn’t have a selfish bone in her body Killian couldn’t even fathom a time when she’d demean her powers with ugly intentions. To Killian that was something to be appreciated and he intended to prove to Emma that he did embrace this along with all the other parts of who she was that made her the woman he loved.

“You love me?” Emma asked, her smile growing bigger as Killian realized what he’d said. Bloody hell, he hadn’t been planning to let it slip that way, but seeing her reaction to the idea made it so Killian couldn’t resent this turn of events in any way. At the mention of his loving her Emma appeared to be more than happy, and that in turn made this moment all the brighter for Killian too.

“With everything I am, Swan.”

“Good,” Emma murmured as she pulled closer to him so her lips were only a whisper away. “Because I love you too.”

That was the final straw for Killian, and though there was still so much left to say and hammer out about all of this, it all had to wait for later. Right now all Killian could do was press his lips to Emma’s and kiss her senseless, attempting to show her what it meant to him to have her feel this with him. It was heady and intoxicating, the best kind of rush of rightness that a person could experience, and he let himself get caught up in that as his hands roamed over her body, pushing the limits of what they could have before he finally broke away sometime later, knowing if he took this any farther there would be no coming back.

“Forgive me, love. I’m always getting carried away when it comes to you. You make me lose my head entirely.”

Emma blushed at the compliment but smiled all the same, as if she was truly flattered by his words but happy for them too. She liked having this kind of control over him, and Killian was all too willing to give it to her. After all Emma should know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was hers and that whatever she wanted he was willing to give her. But he hadn’t expected her first request now that he’d told her how he really felt would be something so significant and meaningful as the one that tumbled past her lips right now.

“Stay over tonight,” Emma pleaded and Killian felt like his heart was about to give out. All he wanted in the world was to stay, but he had to be sure she meant it. Today had been an ordeal to say the least and he didn’t want to rush Emma even if they’d just moved leaps and bounds ahead of where they’d been even this afternoon.

“Are you sure? What about Henry?”

“I’m sure. I wanted to spend tonight with you anyway. I had a plan that kind of got messed up with the storm, but it doesn’t matter. I want this and if Henry asks I’ll just tell him the truth, which is that he was right this afternoon before he ran out of here. You love me and I love you and wherever we’re going from this point on, I’m ready for it, and ready for you.”

Killian’s joy at that statement couldn’t be contained, and all he wanted in the world was to sweep Emma into his arms and carry her upstairs to her room to spend the rest of the night locked away with her. But before they could do that, there was still one thing to say. One thing that shouldn’t wait until morning to come to light.

“Speaking of the truth… there’s something you should probably know, Emma. Something I think might have been lost in all the chaos of the day.”

Killian then told her everything about the actual origins of the storm and how Henry had been the one tethered to it with a magic of his own that only calmed when Killian told him that he wasn’t going anywhere and that everything would be okay. To say that Emma was stunned was an understatement, but past all of her shock and the worry that Henry had created something so big and dangerous thanks to his influx of emotion, Emma was proud of her boy. Apparently Henry hadn’t shown very much aptitude to magic up to this point other than some spot on premonitions, and though Belle had always said magic could come later in life to some people, Emma didn’t really know if that would be the case. Henry’s father hadn’t been magical and maybe Henry would be the same way, but now her kid, her lad with the heart filled with the truest sense of belief, would have a chance to know the good that magic could bring.

“I can’t believe it,” Emma said at last as she shook her head. “What did he say about it? Was he excited?”

“I think he was more fixated on the fact that he’d summoned a hurricane out of thin air and that he might have made you upset, but once we got that calmed down, aye, Henry was hardly apposed to the prospect of having magic like his mother.”

“And you’re sure you’re still good with all of this?” Emma asked, meeting his gaze with real questioning, though he could tell she already knew the answer. “It’s one thing to sign up to date me, but it’s another to hitch along for magic lessons and supernaturally-enhanced teenage years.”

“Aye, Swan. I am still very much ‘good’ with all of this,” Killian vowed as he pressed another kiss to her lips lightly. “And no matter what may come, you can trust that I always will be. My place is with you and Henry now, and nothing is going to change that, magical or otherwise.”

So with that promise cast between them, and the understanding on both their parts that this love was made to last and would endure through any storm, Emma and Killian headed upstairs to spend a night together in the house Emma called home. And when morning came, Killian was thrilled to find that saying how they felt and sharing all their secrets had opened the door to a new chapter between them, one filled with all the love and joy that a man could want and also so much more he’d never even dared to dream.

Post-Note: So there we have it. I know I didn’t set up too much for the storm (other than some mentions of Killian’s investigations into the town in the past), but I always wanted Henry to have magic beyond the glimpses into the future he has and this was a good way for that to happen. Like in the show where Emma can only use magic when she’s overwhelmed with feeling at the beginning, I wanted Henry to face that kind of trial, and then I wanted Henry’s magic to be what fully opened the door to the truth for Emma and Killian. After all, as a Mom, Henry has to be Emma’s first priority and this was a chapter dedicated to showing that Killian understands that and that he’s willing to share that responsibility with Emma. It’s only with that understanding that they can have a really enduring love and eventual happily ever after, but now that the storm has passed (pun intended) it’s pretty much going to be all fluff all the time. Not to worry though, there are still quite a few chapters I have plotted out of this story and we have a while yet to track out the happy endings for everyone, but I just wanted to thank all of you guys for all the support and love you’ve shown this story. It really means a lot and it makes the writing and inspiration come so much easier. Anyway, thanks again and hope you have a great rest of your day and enjoy the coming weekend!