#so they end up sitting together and henry feels lucky that they crossed paths. so that he's not alone in dealing with painful memories

[asvidema]

sunrise

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Trophy Chapter Eight

Masterlist

You become confused and start to question your feelings whilst Henry tries to be romantic but Stephan manages to fuck things up.

Warnings: Obsessive Behaviour, Implied Smut, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Torture, Dark themes, Yandere, Swearing, Daddy kink, Spanking threats, Angst?, Violence, Dark fluff(even I don't bloody know)

A/n: its quater past 11....I should be sleeping...my cat is littarily meowing at me to got to sleep but im not so here have chapter eight!!! so this chapter is mostly plot no smut unfortunately but the next one will be 1000٪. I have finally finally got the entire plot to this fic finished and written, I actually have some scenes for the next three chapters done to! But as I said mainly plot I intendedthis to be a little confusing from y/n perspective I want you to get a sense of what y/n is going through juggling her feelings and all that apart from that I really hope you enjoy this one xx

Taglist: @havenoffandoms​ @aphrodites-punch​ @charlieferret​ @thatgirly81​ @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @fitnees-motivation-2020​ @viking-raider​ @iloveyouyen​ @black-ninja-blade​

Gif not mine but the divider is xxx

Stephan was at a loss, sitting in the cheap b and b room he rented, papers strewn across the floral bed spread he had been going through his contacts agents. Friends. Investigative journalists. Anyone and everyone he could think of hoping someone somewhere would give him a break, a lead something anything! A way for him to distract Henry enough so he could slip you away from him. Fuck sake at this point he'd pull him in for a fucking parking violation just to get this barstard alone in a room for five minutes!! But no one was willing to help they were all in until the name Cavill was mentioned. He couldnt really blame them Cavill did two things to people who investigated him ruined them or off'd them.

Just last week another agent who'd been working undercover as one of the handlers of his prostitutes was found by the bay death by necklacing. A grusome death something he hadn't seen used in America before, usually it was a shooting or stabbing, necklacing was a brutal ,loud and mostly used in places like Africa and Brazil. Execution and torture all in one. It may be one of the cruelest ways to kill someone but it was in all honesty simple to do, hell anyone could do it which is why they couldn't pin it on Henry specifically, hands bound to your chest; in this case with wire and a tire full of petrol placed over you holding them still trapping them, doused in more petrol and set alight. Its a slow agonizing death that takes around twenty minutes, her screams would have been loud but no one in the area had heard or see a thing he bet they had and were just to frightened. He couldn't blame them he saw the girl before she'd been taken off to autopsy, agents; professional, trained to deal with anything agents,onscene were being physically sick from the sight and smell unused to this type of violence. The poor agent had suffered even before that. Autopsy showed she had been raped beforehand she was described as cut and torn up in the report, but they must have used condoms of some description as there wasn't any dna evidence. Or if there was it had been burned away like her charred skin, her body had been in such a bad way that there was nothing to go on. Without evidence they can't charge or formally question a suspect.

Safe to say everyone was shaken up, some left completley requested reassignment and all the ones who came before him were either dead of terrified of the man. Not only that word of Stephans fuck up had got out and he was now a laughing stock. Stephan was supposed to be a honey trap, go undercover seduce a woman of intrest to do one of two things one, prob for information, if she had some great! Stay and use it and If she didnt dump her move on to the next job simple Or two, find a woman to maintain a close connection to the target in this case that was you. It was believed that there was a connection between you and Cavill.

The mobster out of the blue was trying to buy a block of flats in a shitty area. Now Cavill owned property,  lots of property but never flats and never on that type of estate. He owned fancy restaurants and night clubs stupidly high class bars that had dress codes and the residential properties were allways four beroom three bathroom houses worth millions with fucking suanas and shit. Bottom line it was out of character and the man was trying to rush through the sale. The higher ups had hoped with the way he was acting; so out of character and flustered, that he would fuck up. He a mobster kingpin with litteraly billions to his name was trying to buy a building that was falling apart, in a run down poor area, wasn't for sale and was willing to skip negotiations and overpay... 

The only possible connection to it all was you. They knew Fletcher had dealings with Henry and knew Henry used the cafe for his smaller business meetings. That was the most infuriating thing they knew so much but they just couldn't prove it!. So Stephan was called in to see if you was privvy to Henry and his empire and if you was willing to be an informant. Simple. Until it wasn't and feelings got involved. He wasn't supposed to fall for you but he had and that had cost him the assignment. He was supposed to drop it but he wont, so he had to sniff around himself he knew Henry kidnapped you, he knew Fletcher set it up and he knew he was going to save you. With that in mind he decided to do something he never even dreamed. Stephan was going to go rouge.

Henry was content albeit impatient,  he waited at the bottom of the stairs waited for you his wonderful little princess. He had arranged a night out in one of his top restaurants, he figured now that you were here willingly he could begin to spoil you, lavish you with the luxury you deserved and you had been good these past days you deserved a treat. Tonight was about showing you just what it means to be his, the respect, the glitz and glamour. He was hoping that he could begin to sway you more, he knew you were questioning youself and him, his intentions and as you were questioning he saw a change you were more compliant. He paced slowly his head of security Luke was there beside him stiff as a board, Luke thought it was a mistake flaunting you around so early. But Luke could go fuck himself, Luke was not in charge and Luke should keep his opinions to himself.

Henry was begining to get tired of the mans bitching it was clear that his head of security had something against his sweet pet. It may have been the fact that Henry; seeing the bruises on your wrists after your escape that was definitely not made from handcuffs, had investigated and watched the security footage seeing the way the gruff man had manhandled you dragged you through the house after taunting you, thrown you into your day room on the day you'd escaped. Yes Henry ha found out and promised the man a grizzley end if it ever happened again. The only man to leave marks on your soft skin was him. Luke was bitter over the fact you'd escaped further then the garden on his watch, well thats what Henry put it down to.

"If you sigh again I will stop you breathing altogether!" He finally snapped over his shoulder to the man. 

"Sorry sir I just think-" Henry spun on his heel pointing at him.

"I dont pay you to think! I pay you to do as your fucking told! To protect our investments and you didnt! Incase you haven't noticed your on thin ice as it is, theres a line of others who would take your place in a heartbeat Luke so I suggest you start pulling your shit together unless you want an early retirement." The words were hissed a snarl he couldn't help the thrill that came from Luke's shocked fearfull look. Luke knew poeple didnt retire from his position, not the in the masive pay out and a sipping pinacolada on a sandy beach sense. The only retirement he would see is two foot wide and six foot deep if he was lucky. Henry watched steely eyes burning into the man before him, the guard finally looked away gulping nodding slowly.

"Y-yes sir..I will go make sure the car is ready" Henry smirked crossing his arms 

"You do that! Be the most usefull thing you've done all day." Luke cringed at that but could say nothing he simply left the house out towards the drive shuting the door with a quiet click. Henry shook his head as he watched Luke descend the few step of the porch. He was going to have to do something about him soon.

He pulled his thoughts away from the dark path they had traveled and glanced at the stairs again then began his pacing from side to side once again looking at his the rolex upon his wrist. You were taking your time. Sighing he turned again looking expectantly at the stairs. Its not like you had to decide what to wear he had laid it out! He had done the hard bit all you had to do was hair and make up. He grunted making another lap of his choosen pace route. You better not be up there pouting, if you were he was going to be very annoyed. Five more minutes. He decided five minutes then he would go check and if you was being a little madam and pouting he would blister you ass with the belt at his waist and drag you out anyway dressed or not. He moved finally standing at the stairs hand gripping the banister in a white knuckle grip hissing through his teeth. 

Then he heard it heels tapping on the marble floor slow and unsteady, you were coming. He held his breath waiting for you to turn the corner at the top of the landing. When you did he had to swallow dryly, you were a vision, stunning you were made to be on his arm there was no doubt about it. You made your way down the stairs trying not to topple over in the high heels, which you suspected he had put you in so you couldnt run. Well you could try but you have to unbuckle them first which would be a dead give away. 

You'll admit the dress was beautiful and comfortable considering how figure hugging it was. A deep royal blue velvet ,thin spaghetti straps and a low open back stopping just at the swell of your bottom, the front had a soft swooping neckline showing a hint of the very top of your breasts. It was a fine choice, henry definitely had an eye for these things. Every outfit he put you in since being here was always well thought out and this was no exception. You had to be careful tonight, he had provided a dress, stockings garterbelt even jewellery and some new lipsticks! but no panties. It made you nervous, it was one thing to always be around the house in skirts with no undies but to go out? You had to be wary, the small mercy was that it was a knee length dress so hopefully no accidents. However that being said with how form fitting it was and the way it pushed up your boobs there was more chance of a nip slip then a lip slip.

There was a complete set of expensive looking Jewellery that each had been packed in blank leather jewellery boxes and was presented on purple velvet. The necklace was three long strings of diamonds one a choker then longer to your collar bone then the final resting just below your dress' neckline the middle string holding one single large diamond in the center, the weighty rock made you dread to think of the cost and matching small dangling earrings and a bracelet...And anklet he had insisted you to be head to toe in diamonds. 

For your hair you had styled it up and away from your face in a sleek sophisticated look,your make up was light, you didnt want to go all out and make him think you were trying to impress him, although in some respects you did want to impress him but for now you would ignor that. You had settled for a light face of make up and one of your new lipsticks a dark nude shade between a peach and beige the last thing you wanted was for him to get angry about not putting in effort which was a real possibility with how the slightest things could trigger a mood swing.

You'd found the past week since you had....Assisted him in the livingroom something had changed, a subtle change at first. You found youself stealing quick glances and smiles at him, he had caught you staring a few times and winked making you flush and stutter. He still had his moments but it seemed your 'admission' of not wanting to leave and wanting to try to stay and fall in love with him had calmed him down significantly. Sure you'd been given a few punishments when he got insecure here and there. You had been finding yourself participating in all of the intimate moments he was forcing onto you, when you did things with him you could barely speak let alone think the throws of passion was an escape. To your own confusion and shame you now admitted to yourself you enjoyed him lathering you with attention it was becoming to easy to melt into his embrace, to tempting to kiss the man back and cuddle up to him as he soothed the burning prints he left across your skin. You were frightened at just how much you began to crave him and need him, you still tried resisting but it was few and far between. In reality you were giving in to him and you didnt exactly hate the change. despite everything it sill felt a little wrong to let him get his way but that bad feeling was becoming easier to ignore.

But don't get things wrong, you had no desire to stay here permanently you had just resigned yourself to it for the time being...You think things i  your...Relationship were confusing at the moment you liked the man but hated how this had all come about. You tried reasoning that your feelings were changing in some sort of survival technique or something. That subconsciously you had to pacify him, make him believe you was slowly falling for him so he wouldn't hurt you or the ones you loved. But at this point you wasn't entirely sure. I mean if that were true and you did this all for Stephans life shouldnt you feel somthing for the agent. But in reality all you felt was abandoned and betrayed by him, but it didn't hurt not like the loos of a friend or lover as you thought it would have. Maybe you was just weird? or maybe you didn't really love him? What ever it was you was thankfull for it as you could concentrate more on yourself and what you had to do to get out of this alive, sane and single. You were not falling in love with this mad man no matter what he did and said you shouldnt fall for it you shouldnt fall for him. But you were slowly realising that just because  you shouldn't didn't mean you wouldn't.

Henry's face lit up as you slowly made your way down the steps on wobbly feet unused to the heels that brought the top of your head up to his eye line. Seeing you struggling he smirked meeting you half way up the stairs linking his arm with yours. You flinched almost pulling back knowing you should but his grip was firm and you needed help. His voice was low and playful when he spoke.

"It seems you will need my help with walking tonight before you've even touched a drop of wine my love. Thats no matter, more of a reason for you to cling to me and I do enjoy you wrapped around me pet." You gave a quick glance, so you was in these ridiculous heels for a reason. You forced a smile letting go of the banister as he walked you down the stairs over to the door.

"You look stunning! I have the best table in the place reserved just for us but first" he moved spinning around you and just like a magic trick his hand appeared from behind him with a small ring box, he moved pulling up your left hand kissing the back of it. You shivered as he maintained eye contact feeling him smirk. You cursed yourself wanting to contorl your reactions but couldnt seem to. He spoke a cheeky grin his voice was playfull. 

"Here something to complete the outfit I wont have my little girls hands bare~" You gulped as he pulled back the lid of the small box revealing an obnoxiously huge rock sat embedded in what looked like a silver but was most likely white gold band. You tugged at your hand and winced when he dug his thumb in your palm tugging your hand out hashly.

"Daddy! That's to much-I'm not one for rings please everything else is enough. " He blinked his face dropping.

"You don't like it? Whats wrong with it?" You eyed him carefully and shrugged.

"No-nothing I just..." he interrupted you growling at you scowling

"You don't want it? I had it made for you and now you don't even fucking want it? I just wanted to treat you baby? You've been so good and now your going to start acting up? When I'm trying to reward you for being so good. Just trying to have a quiet night out with you, I dont have to take you out, I could fucking keep you here day in day out" You could hear it, that of hectic insanity. Frantic undertones. You quickly shook your head.

"No no I want it! I do want it I'm just worried...It looks...Ive never had anything that looks that expensive" you moved forward to him placing a hand on his chest rubbing slightly, youd learned fast that initiating intimate gestures help calm him a little.

"I-i'm frightened that I'd upset you if I loose it especially if we dance..We are going to have our first slowdance tonight aren't we? I was hopeing we could..Tho people will laugh I've never danced like that before." It did the trick he calmed blinking slowly then beamed at you.

"Oh little one thats sweet of you to worry about daddys feelings like that..But baby I wont be upset if you lost it Id just get you another one pet... Now come here and keep still like a good girl" you sighed in relief as he calmed down you cringed and twisted your hand as he tried to place it on your ring finger, his eyes flicked up to you in warning.

"Its...thats bad luck I'd rather not.." he grunted and took your right hand placing it on your ring finger. You shuddered as you realised it fit perfectly. He moved back placing one parting kiss.

"That is your first warning tonight, daddy doesn't want any games...You ruin tonight and I will be very displeased and you will not like the outcome" you nodded takig a breath.

"Y-yes daddy I understand...I'll be good" he gave a quick look.

"You better now lets go" you released a breath tho calmer he wasn't happy youd argued, disagreed you wasnt supposed to do that.

Henry playing the part of a gentleman opened the door to the car for you. Once inside he set off out of the gate, you shivered a little trying not to glance at him. He moved his hand to your leg patting it softly rubbing the soft nylon of the stockings he groaned subtly to himself as he continued down the road, you cringed a little moving to pull the hem of the dress down not wanting him to take advantage of the rising skirt and your bare pussy merely inches above. He squeezed lightly feeling you tug the fabric down under his palm cutting off the contact. He rolled his eyes biting his lip to stop the comments on the tip of his tongue. No he wont ruin this night before its begun, anything that happens he can rectify later when you were restrained and withering one your final treat. He licked his lips as he thought about the nights festivities and hopefully what the outcome will be. He was pulled from his devious thoughts when you wriggled uncomfortably still trying to get used to wearing half a set of underwear... And lets face it stockings and garter belts aren't exactly the norm any way. It was after ten minutes of sighing, huffing and squirming that he spoke pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Whats the matter little one?" you snapped you head to him and smiled going to brush him off he removed his hand from your leg wagging a finger.

"Ah ah come on no lying that will be your second warning and we aren't even there yet~" you closed your mouth giving him a heavy pout he rose an eyebrow letting his hand land back in your lap.

"Its...Well I've never...I'm getting used to the stockings...Never worn them before and its strange under the dress...especially not having any panties on....I'm covered but not " he through his head back and laughed as he pulled up to a red light.

"Oh love! you should have said baby...I thought you were having a paddy! I was getting ready to take you back home and tann your naughty backside with my belt." you snapped your head in his direction gulping knowing full well he would have.

"Oh little one don't be so tense..I promise tonight I'm going to spoil you this is a treat baby girl a night of fine food,  fine wine and even finer company" you smiled forgetting your underwear situation for a moment twiddling your new bracelet wanting to take your mind off things. You were going to try and enjoy the night try and forget everything just for one night. You smiled up at him shyly.

"I'm looking forward to it..But I get the feeling your taking me somwhere fancy and I've neve done fancy... think the fanciest place I've been is your house"he chuckled looking forward to the road cheking the lights then moved to face you.

"Our...Its our house pet you live there to now remember.. and don't worry I own the place so no one will say anything if you make a little slip up...Okay little one and if anyone does upset you ,you tell me straight away..I wont have my babygirls night ruined by anyone" you didn't want his words to effect you but they did, the idea of him caring enough to make sure you enjoy the night was sweet.

"Y-you mean it?" he nodded giving the lights another quick glance then focused back on you

"Of course! tonight is all about spoiling my number one! you can have anything you want and that includes a doggy bag of deserts to bring home" you smiled at him hopefully giggling.

"Deserts sound good! I'm excited now do they have cheesecake?" he pursed his lips thinking for a second wanting to prolong your cheerful mood.

"Yes, three kinds and I assume you'll be having a slice of each?" you nodded at him with a cheeky grin, Henry smirked at you leaning in playfully tucking his hand by your knee tickling the back making you giggle and squirm pushing at him. 

"Well my love three slices..Now that is a big ask and deserves a pre-payment I think...Three kisses should suffice" you grinned shaking your head at him and squealed as he leaned over playfully growling stealing three sweet kisses then leaned back in his seat , he was gobsmacked when youd followed him placing a peck against his cheek. You froze realizing what you did and jumped back holding your lips in surprize. What the fuck was that? He smirked moving the car into drive as the light changed. You righted yourself in the seat leaning back choosing to forget that little slip up. But still felt optimistic maybe tonight would be a fun night out even if it was with Henry.

YES! it had paid off, a few days he had spent watching waiting but finally there was movement. he had been waiting here at the main road leading to the mobsters house. Parked next to a motel mainly used by truckers who stayed overnight, Stephan quickly climbed to the front seat of the car watching as the Aston martin drove past him, not just any Aston martin Henry's Aston martin, the only custom db11 in the city. He quickly pulled his binoculars out to see...Fuck yes!...He couldn't believe his luck! you were in the passenger seat and dolled up... He took a breath you looked incredible and to his utter despair and confusion you looked happy?.

Henry stopped at the intersection Stephan fumed as Henry laughed at something you said then moved his hand out of sight making you roll your eyes and press him away playfully laughing he didn't pull back instead he quickly leaned over kissing you, and the thing that cut Stephan most was that you let him, you seemed to enjoy his attention. Stephan's heart clenched seeing you like that, you were supposed to hate him...You were a captive. You couldn't possibly like the man could you?. He shook his head of course you didn't a mad man like henry? you were playing a part, hopefully a part that you could retire from tonight. He flicked on the ignition throwing down his binoculars if he could follow you both...If he could get in he had a chance, could give you a chance to escape! he could save you.

He took a second watching again as you moved you were smiling giving him a quick peck, he couldn't bare to watch anymore he closed his eyes gripping the steering wheel tight swearing. Could he be to late? He loathed to think of just what he had put in your head what he could have convinced you to do. The light turned green and car pulled away, he waited a few seconds then pulled out making sure not to be to close or be caught by the lights. It only took the disgraced agent around fifteen minuets to realize where you were being taken. It would seem Henry was taking you on a date? trying to romance you, wine and dine you but then what? there had to be a reason, and ulterior motive. Stephan held back watching as the Aston martin pulled around the front of the hotel, Henry exited the car and walked around holding your door for you. He felt a rush of anger as Henry helped you out of the car then tossed the keys across the car to the valet. Stephan stared gulping, you really did look amazing even if you were struggling to stand in shoes he knew you wouldn't have been caught dead in if you had a say. He must have forced you in to them, so he could have you wrapped around him, leaning and clutching at him as you wobbled about unsteady. His blood boiled as Henry moved offering you his arm when you took it he felt..betrayed almost asking himself if you were worth it now, it looked like Henry had got to you. He seethed watching you climb the few stairs to the hotel entrance linking arms with your captor ,you looked up at the mad man smiling nodding as he spoke completely at ease.

Something was very wrong with this image, a kidnapped woman going out on the town with her kidnapper? on what looked like a romantic date?. You hadn't seemed like one of those shallow golddiggers who'd do anything for a bit of bling or money, but Stephan couldn't help but wonder to himself at that point. You looked happy if not a little nervous? shy? you looked like a love struck teenager. But Stephan couldn't help himself he couldn't doubt you, you needed him to get you out, to save you. You needed him to try. He moved pulling the car around the back, thankfully as this was a hotel people were coming and going all the time so it'd be easy enough to get in, he was coming for you. Tonight he will save you and it will look like nothing more then a lovers spat! a perfectly realistic situation that would have no repercusions. Once he had you, you could testify against the mobster and this would all be over. Henry would finally be behind bars where he belongs.

You took a breath seeing the long line of people waiting to get in the restaurant each in expensive looking glad rags,you tucked your head down akwardly as Henry strode past the long line of people each making a fuss at the two of you. Some did not knowing just who the man on your arm was. Henry cut to the front interrupting the guest at the front.

"Is everthing ready?" His voice was bored as a woman quickly scampered over ready to let the owner in much to the anger of the other guest. The two at the front tried capturing his attention to give him a piece of their mind but Henry ignored them.

It wasn't long before you were in the high end restaurant in one of the towns two five star hotels that he owned. It was nice the restaurant was about fifteen stories up a dark blue almost black marble looking floor,  tables all coverd with pure white table clothes that felt like some stupid 800 thread count material ,high back black leather chairs ,single white roses and candles on each table dotted around. The focal point was a huge wall with intergrated tropical fishtank that seperated the regular tables and vip area which was raised slightly. The set up was split in two, one half all centred around useing the veiw courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows looking over the town the other half had the fish tank to look at..It was clever really the fishtank gave you a faux sense of privacy a perfect divider that let light flow to the other half of the seating area.

Henry walked you straight past the fish tank to a high private table in the corner of the vip area a huge bouquet of roses sat on the table. 

"For you babygirl" you couldn't help but smile brightly as he slid them to you. You leaned in smelling the roses slowly running your finger across the curve of the soft petals your heart warmed and for a moment you truley felt... Special? Cherished?.

You cast a sweeping gaze across the seating area admiring it whilst empty knowing it wont be for long, it was the most expensive place you'd ever been to eat. As you looked around you noticed that the other geusts were slowly trickling in being seated by smartly dressed servers. You looked slower taking in the decor more carfully. Henry wasnt lying when he said the table was the best in the place  it had a uninterrupted veiw of the city and the restaurant.

"You like it?" You nodded looking around the decor was black and gold giving a art decor gatsby vibe. He moved pulling out your chair letting sit then sat himself across from you smileing as you pulled the roses across the table placing then on the corner out of the way blushing. 

"Yes I was right it is a fancy place...A little daunting but exciting...And I can't wait for my cheesecake its my favourit and I haven't had it in sooo long!"

"Any thing for you my little one...But only good little girls who eat all their dinner get a desert you know that...ah ah no pouting!"

"But tonight's supposed to be a treat daddy" he gave you a stern look across the table at your pouting 

"Yes and if your a good girl and ask nicely we would eat out like this everyday, but you were naughty to begin with and daddy has to be strict and have lots of rules...And one of those rules is no desert before dinner now enough pouting don't be ungrateful" you blushed stupidly enough you agreed with him in a way you'd come to enjoy some of his rules, they made you feel...accomplished in a way youd never experienced before, you had something to work to and when you did as he asked he praised you which always made a warmth in your chest blossom. You tucked your nose in a rose you'd plucked from your bouquet grinning softly.

"Im sorry Daddy...Thank you for the roses they are very beautiful" he smiled holding his arms out in a exasperated gesture tilting his head for emphasis

"Well at least you will accept flowers with out a fuss little one...Thats one thing I can now be sure of" You looked down still feeling scolded even if his tone was light you cursed the feeling in your chest. Like rocks had been stuffed in your ribcage making your chest heavy, he was obviously still bitter about the ring you could tellfrom how pissy he was being. You fidgeted worrying just what that would mean for you during the night.

Almost immediately after you sat down you were served a sweet smelling dark wine by a fairly handsome man who popped the cork with ease handing it to Henry whilst giving you a nervous smile you smiled back to him unaware of Henry's face turning sour he nodded and gave the young man a gruff grunt to proceed, the wine was acceptable apparently you watched as the server moved pouring you out a half glass with shaking hands well aware of Henry who was glaring daggers at him ,you smiled to thanking him. Henry must have taken it wrong as he snarled a 'fuck off' at the man who quickly placed the bottle on the table and practically ran out of sight.

"Hen- da I...what was?...I was just being polite please can we just enjoy ourselves...Please." he sat back regarding you one elbow on the arm of his chair twiddling his fingers, his gaze was unerving. He paid no mind to a waitress placing a bottle of bourbon and a glass finally he clicked his tongue smirking enjoying makeing you squirm. He smiled quickly leaning over pouring his own drink casually.

"I'd be carefull pet, you've got one warning left tonight it'd be a shame to have to reprimand you here and trust me daddy has no qualms of upending you on this table and giving you a sound thrashing" you jolted opening your mouth unable to find any words you settled on nodding quietly sipping at you drink meekly he rolled his fingers in a smooth motion until it was a loose fist.

"Answer me pet you know I hate you ignoring me unless you want to be made an example of here? want everyone to see your cute little bottom turned pink over daddy's lap as you kick and squirm like a naughty little girl" you squinted your eyes cheeks tniging pink at his words, deciding it was best not to test him you quickly slapped the drink down a few drops jumped from the glass staining the crisp white table cloth. You froze watching the dark liquid seep across the fibers.

"I-I'm sor-ry please I didn't mean-" you panicked and began begging looked up and could have cried for some reason he was keeping you on edge tonight more so than usual. He was smiling playfully into the rim of his glass, he had been toying with you...had he? you had hoped you knew his mind games but he was in an unpredictable mood tonight.

He moved slowly plucking the menu curling a finger calling a waitress over and ordered for the both of you. You sat twiddling your fingers unsure of what to do, he had seemed happy in the car but in here...It was like he wanted to keep you on a short leash, make you understand although you were out having a treat you were not free to do as you pleased. You settled on people watching moving to get a view of the other couples, they smiled and curled around one another so happy in love. Free.

You looked down blinking away tears, was this worse? Being out and seeing what you'd never have? In the house you could ignore it but here watching them be so genuine. No matter how much you fell at this mans feet you'd never have that freedom to feel, to be so careless in your love. You'd always be controlled be pressed into what ever made him happy...

Your purpose was to make this beautiful monster happy. But you'd agreed, was it wrong to let yourself go under? To fully succumb to his dominance and try to enjoy him. To find comfort in him and accept him as the beautiful yet cruel man he was?you would have to eventually so why wait? It'd save you heat ache in the end. And as the days blurred into weeks and months you knew that it would be easy. He was vindictive and spite full. He was ruthless and cunning yet to you he was almost kind, it would be easier if you swallowed your pride and let yourself fall for him. Life would be easier and you was slowly accepting that it was the obvious choice, you moved casting a glance at the couples around you. Could that be you? Could you have that happiness in the end with him? the frightening thig was. Yes. you could already feel that your feelings were changing slowly but surely, were you in love with him? no did you care for him? Yes.

You hadn't realised he moved until he had made his way arohnd the table holding ut a hand palm up below your down turned face. You jumped snapping your head up confused he furrowed his brows slightly pressing a hand to your cheek wiping away a few stray tears.

"Dont cry pet...Not here no one should see your tears but me, no one should put them there but me. Here come on take my hand" you quickly moved wiping them away once your face was free of tears he grasped your hand. Pulling you up slowly, you followed docile as he pulled you towards a large dancefloor at the back of you space just behinde the bar. You saw there were a few couples were already slow dancing you tensed.

He spun round to face you as the song changed to one you recognized, No peace by Sam Smith played loud yet soft through the speakers it was one of our favourite's but this time the words had a much deeper meaning. He held your back his palm hot against the bare skin he stepped forward pulling your hand up near his shoulder you held him softly. Swaying slowly you'r eyes darted around eyes were on you from those who knew Henry, guests and staff alike.

"Look at me...Forget them little one they are just curious its rare for them to see such elegance up close, and I must say you look divine...More of a little lady then a little girl" you flushed at the compliment trying to follow his skilled movements as he placed his feet expertly without a thought to it as he spun you around in smooth steps across the floor, you swore looking at your feet as you stepped wrong capturing his toes. He chuckled and lifted you effortlessly off his foot  an inch or so and placed you back to the floor

"Sorry..I don't mean to..I've never danced like this before...Not very good on a normal dance floor and I'm ten times worse at this, these heels aren't helping...I must look like fucking bambi on ice" he chuckled smoothing his thumb across the skin of your back. Enjoying the backless dress pressing his hands into you feeling your shivers the ripples across your back as he smothered you in his huge frame, letting you feel small in his embrace. He quickly and subtly lifted you up once again as you nearly stood on him again.

"Bambi is a very fitting name I may steal that one" you gave a shy smile smirked spinning you aubruptly then pulled you back skillfully tugging you a little closer. He tilted his head down talking in a hushed baritone voice. 

"Your doing fine...Just let daddy lead, daddy will look after you I promise" you gulped and nodded he spun you again this time making sure your bodys touched, slipping his feet between yours using them to move yours guiding your steps.

He settled you to him as he moved prompting you to lay your head on his shoulder he spun you both slowly bringing you near the center of the floor to make sue no one bumped into you. You sighed humming along quietly whispering the lyrics suddenly there was a lump in your throat you swallowed hard pressing your head into his neck. It looked intimate. It was intimate. You listened as he picked up where you left off humming he lyrice into your ear low and relaxing. You whined moving your hands holding him around the neck breathing a shaky breath into his neck. He moved pressing a sweet kiss to your head song changed and you was thankful, pulling your head up to see his eyes staring at you there was a fondness he gave a lopsided grin.

"Are you okay my love? Your very tearful tonight." You blinked shaking your head at him.

"I'm..C-Can I speak truthfully....without?.." he tensed as you trailed off, you wanted to speak freely without consequences. He mulled over the idea unsure if he should shoot you down, he decided against it if he halted you now you may never be honest with him again. He nodded to you giving you his undivided attention as he slowdance with you in the crowd. You took a deep breath unsure if it was the right time to have this conversation. He had given you permision but you will still be careful with your words.

"I'm confused... You confuse me Henry...Being here like this I..."You looked to the other couples wistfully then back to him.

"I want that...I want that love that freedom and...And I...We feel like a couple ,like we could be a normal couple like them ,but you frighten me, the things you say and do and I...I'm unsure of whats right and wrong now...Normal couples don't do what we do they dont threaten spanking's on dates!" he hummed in response mulling over your words for a few breaths, could everythinghave been his fault? You didnt understand the type of relationship he had with you therefor you dont know what he wants from you or what to expect, is that confusion why you were fighting so hard?

"I'd hoped you were finally accepting things now. I'm glad you were honest with me about being confused love and I'm proud of you. We feel like a couple because we are.... But normal? No we are not we are a bdsm couple, we live a bdsm lifestyle which suits both of us. Your mine and I am yours we are soulmates. You are just finally catching up to that and soon we will feel like this all the time, this happiness this relaxed and playful. I know its all still quite new now but soon you will be used to me being your lover, your daddy, your dominant ,your one and only and in time I will be your husband and father to your children. We will be like this for the rest of our lives. I apologize that I'm only just explaining this now and I can see why you were so reluctant and scared going form a normal vanilla and quite innocent relationship to being in this...very strict and quite demanding, sexually fueled one can be daunting. I was just so caught up wishing you would ajust quicker but matters of the heart can't be rushed and now I see that is what I was trying to do. I am content for now. Soon this will be normal, the jewellery the luxury anything you desire will be yours when you finally admit to loveing me back, when you succumb to your true feelings." He moved looking to the others around you then back to you smiling.

"You will be just as happy as them..If not more you will be the most treasured and spoilt woman in the city, the world even I promise and when that day comes you will make me the happiest man on the planet" he moved solidifying his statment with a kiss, a promise he words sounded like vows in itself. You sighed and pulled back he took a deep breath as you did.

"I'm trying I...Its a lot to take in and I'm glad I spoke to you...I think I understand a little more now...Your You dont mean to frighten me you just...Get excited? okay I can live with that...I've never been in love before its frightening" he smiled twisting you around pulling your back to his front holding you close placing a kiss to your shoulder.

"I know you are trying love, what do you think this is tonight? This is your reward for your week of good behaviour. I am patient I will wait for you neither of us are going anywhere. And in the end everything will be worth it you'll see" 

You stood stock still freezing as you looked out into the now full restaurant.You spoke as you cast your eyes to the male in the crowd. He was glaring at you making your chest go cold.No. What did he see? What will he think? You dropped you hands from henry's arms your breath was a whisper.

"Stephan?" Henry brought his head up abruptly going rigid he hands wrapping around your waist tighter almost painfull as if you was going to run to the other male. He looked around growling low and dangerous searching for him finally he honed in on him. Was hair dye all someone needed to bypass his men? He seethed as you trembled in his arms he held his breath. Moving closer to your ear.

"You want him? you want to run to him? Do you? You can I will let you but he will be dead before you touch him!" His words were a hot hiss in  your ear.

"No...I-I want him gone" the words were out befor you could catch them he hissed in your ear.

"Y-You what?" he turned you abruptly trying to sniff out a lie but you just held his gaze firm he swallowed his mouth going dry he covered his shock well then glared

"We will see...Come lets go see our dear Stephan shall we?" You tried struggled to keep up but he continued storming across the floor toward him. Henry half dragged half marched you through the dancing couples as you staggered in the stupid fucking shoes!. He turned to you slowly as you gained on Stephan who either bravely or stupidly stood his ground. Your heart beat faster tho you was unsure why you were worried but for who you couldn't say.

"Just remember our arrangement and he will leave here alive" you took a deep breath humming in response before hissing out an answer.

"I'm not leaving Henry" After what felt like an eternity to stood face to face with him, the one you could have seen yourself with on the arm of the man you were forced to be with.

"Y/n..." you looked to him blinking slowly 

"Leave" you had to do it, to send him away Henry would hurt him. You wasn't sure if you were just saying that or not, maybe you wanted to stay with Henry. But that was a thought for another day.You swallowed standing tall looking straight at him, you will not have this mans blood on your hands and you will not be used by him again you had enough sorting out your own shit and trying to figure out Henry at this point Stephan could go fuck himself you will forget him. 

Stephan, Fletcher and Henry all three were the cause of this. It was a mans game and youd somehow become a pawn for all three. You had to choose a side.

"Yes I think you should leave, this is reservation only I'm afraid." Henrys words had a bite to them anyone watching would assume Henry was just dealing with a gate crasher, no one other then the three of you would know how truley volatile the situation was.

"You? No..y/n I'm here for you! To take you back! Please I'm sorry give me one last chance? I love you baby I can't live with out you please?" You froze everything stopped what was he doing? What the fuck was he doing? Making a scene people watched as Stephan made a wild plea for you to take him back. He made a perfect storm, a brilliant and well thought out display.

Henry tensed holding you. You could feel it he wasn't prepared for this. Had Stephan just out witted the king himself in his own building. You held your breath unsure of what to do If he had was there a chance?. Could this be it? Your escape even if you didnt love stephan could you use this ruse to get away? To go into some form of witness protection?

"Ha! Honestly Stephan you think she hasn't heard?" You took a step back to Henry holding his wrist. No you wont take that chance not now. You have to settle, to just accept your lot with Henry for your own sanity. You had only moments ago realised where you stood and now had some understanding of what this was!. And if you was honest with your self you wasn't willing to trust Stephan he was to little to late.

"You've lost your job, your home everything! What could you possibly offer her? Safety? Please" you faltered at Henry's words were all but laughed out mocking. He lost his job? If so it wasn't safe you picked up on the hidden meaning to his words. You would not be safe. Stephan would not be safe. Not if you took this chance.

You placed a hand to Henry's chest and swallowed your throat closed up as tears sprang to your eyes. You looked stephan dead in the eye his face dropped. He knew. Before he could speak another word you gave your answer through trembling lips.

"I-I said leave! Your a liar! You played me I was a job Stephan and I will not be used again...Leave and don't ever come back. I-I'm with Henry now, we are happy and planning a future and I don't need you around trying to ruin what we have." You shuddered tears rolling down your face. Henry pulled you closer, you just hoped Stephan realized that you did this of our own accord, that henry was giving you a choice and the fact of the matter is you chose this beautiful dastardly man.You had to turn away from him tucking yourself into Henry's side.

"You heard the lady, she chose me now leave" 'while you can' those three words went without saying, hanging in the air. Stephan stood his ground trying to plead with you that he had somewhere to take you, somewhere safe but you just shook your head. 

"No! I dont want you! I dont need you! Im happy with how things are and I can't believe youxd do this after all this time?!" You were trying to get through that he was to late the damage was done and youd already made up your mind, your reasons were unclear even to you but he doesnt need to know that all he needed to know was that you were staying exactly where you were.

"But baby you don't understand I was trying-" you shook your head at him desperately wanting hi  to stop youd made your decision.

"Enough! Stephan...Ive moved on its to late now go! And dont ever look for me again!" You moved wanting those to be your final words. You turned your back on stephan and looked up to Henry and leaned in to him whispered below your breath.

"Make him leave, please daddy" Henry felt a warmth spread through him as you made the request. You wanted him to intervene to make this boy leave. He would definatly help, protect his babygirl. He acted quickly.

"Security! See to stephan here escort him out" you tore your head up watching as three men apprehended him dragging him through the space to the entrance whre he was destined after that you didn't know. You took a deep breath looking around slowly  everyones eyes were on you. Henry growled and snapped at them making the restaurant begin the nights festivities. You stood hugging him a few seconds more then pulled you back slowly.

"Good girl...Such a good girl you did the right thing. My little love. The right thing." He pulled you in pressing his lips against yours slowly not forcing anything just happy to let you remain there in his arms. He moved slowly escorting ou back to yur table where a waitress brought out your meal after a few moments.

After the incident you found it hard to relax and only did so once back home. The rest of the night was overshadowed by it dread rolled in your stomach Henry was tense. And that normally meant bad things for you. If henry was angry with you he hid it well through dinner and you both tried salvaging the evening in your own ways. But even hree slices of cheesecake couldnt lift your spirits completely.

Once in the house he slammed the front door it echoed down the halls. You flinched and turned to him But he bypassed you and shouted loudly into the house standing tall shoulders back he was itching for a fight ou could tell he wanted to break somehing. Someone.

"LUKE GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT HERE!" Within a few short moments Luke came running stuttering.

"Hen-Sir I didn't know but we have him in-" he was knocked clean off his feet as Henry swung for him. No warning nothing just one fast powerfull fist connecting with his jaw. You screamed jumping back, the commotion got kals attention as the huge dog came barreling in to the foyer barking and growling on the defensive. You ignored the usually sweet now frightening canine watching the scene before you unfold shaking head to toe. Youd never seen henry hit someone before...not like that, he meant that he wanted to cause real damage then.Once his victim was on the floor he crouched wagging a finger at him.

"Hair dye...Thats all he needed to avoid you....your really loosing your touch about as quickly as I'm loosing fucking patience....This fuck up, your fuck up ruined my night! What was supposed to be our first date down the fucking drain because you let it slip A-FUCKING-GAIN! I don't care where he is, infact I don't want you to tell me but you get the info out of him and release him...Do not kill him" Henry stood at his full height hissing looking to you then clenched his jaw. Brilliant! Fucking brilliant you were shaking in terror just how he wanted the fucking night to end! Not! He sighed running a hand acros his face then looked to the man still on the floor.

"Tell me that you've atleast set the room up for us and this night isn't a complete waste" the man on the floor nodded cupping his jaw that was hanging at a funny angle it looked broken. You tensed Henry was powerful muh more powerull then he looked.Henry sighed he didnt move he didnt want you to bolt.

"Love... I'm sorry I just...i know its scary but you know daddy would never ever hurt you...Not truley, please love stop looking at me like that... Could you come here please?....That's it good girl I'm sorry little one good girl just like that" you moved slowly past the man withering on the floor. And stood before Henry it took everything not to flinch from him as he moved to hold your waist and made his way to the stairs pulling you with him. You didn't fight him, you were scared stiff you doubted that even kal would protect you from his master. He walked you right up stairs to the bed room you winced seeing that things were out...Toys. He moved past you huffing and swearing leaving you to just stand and wait. He made his way into the bathroom tense he was angry, furious even. You shook unsure how to tread it had been a while since he was this angry and you wasn't sure who he was angry at. You, stephan or luke...You hoped it wasnt you.

You leaned on the dresser undoing the buckles on your shoes sighing once the sore soles of your feet hit the cool floor. You looked to the bed the sheets were changed. A dark purple satin with matching pillow cases a single black rose on your side of the bed and petals scattered about the place. It was romantic. Well until you saw the contraptions attached to the chair facing the bed which was intended for you to be placed upon. A large purple cilindrycal arch placed on the seat and..Well there was a very satisfying looking dildo sticking right up in the center and a small bobble textured silicone mat just in front of it, there were cuffs attached to the two back legs of the chair that would make the 'toy' take your weight you shivered unsure if you wanted to do this is he was in a mood. You shook your head best get to work calming him down.

You moved slowly to the bathroom he was hunched over the sink he looked up meeting your gaze in the mirror. you blinked moving behinde him hugging him from behind he froze in your arms hands still braced on the marble.

"Thank you daddy...tonight was fun even if he tried to ruin it" you pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He turned abruptly grasping your chin making you look in his eyes.

"You..you had fun..I thought you was upset?" you shook your head at him he sounded angry but you'd thought it was at you aparently not.

"Of course it was our first date...and we had our first dance I just...I wanted you to know that I'm greatfull" he blinked shaking you 

"LIES! How could you possibly? you wanted to go with him! to leave me! I LOVE YOU I FUCKING ADORE YOU AND YOU STILL WANT TO LEAVE ME! WHY? WHY DO YOU FUCK AROUND LIKE THIS? WHY DO YOU TRY TO MANIPULATE ME? MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME IM YOUR LOVER YOUR SOULMATE! IS THAT NOT ENOUGH?!" you screamed struggling as his nails broke the skin of your arms."NO!-NO PLEASE I DIDN'T- I WASN'T PLEASE DADDY DON'T!" you cried out loud trying to grab him as he spun you around slamming you to the door making it close with a slam the sound ringing in your ear

"ADMIT IT! ADMIT TO ME WHAT YOU REALLY WANTED! YOU WANTED HIM YOU WANT HIM!" you shuddered as his eyes searched yours but found only tears you shook your head trying to pull back from him.

"P-ple-ease your hurting me..Daddy I'm here with you-I chose you. I-I want you daddy, pl-please let go" your crying seemed to get more out of control as you now struggled to speak breathing was difficult. He blinked your painfull whimpers cuting him deep as he realized he was the cause. It snapped him out of it as he saw that he had infact hurt you he let go taking heaving breaths. 

He expected you to run but all you did was stay still sobbing your heart out before him clutching your bleeding arms. he moved a hand to you you managed not to flinch but he could see it you wanted to. You wanted to run from him. He swore and quickly wrapped you in his arms.

"Oh my god my love, my heart I'm sorry..I'm so sorry love please shush its okay your okay...shh shh I'm sorry daddy is here, come here my baby..My sweet sweet girl" he pulled you close and just like that he was soothing you again rubbing your back. you trembled and clutched onto him sobbing he took a deep breath.

"I-I'm s-sorry But I didn't I didn't want to go...I wanted to stay with you...He lied he used me im here..I decided to stay with you" he closed his eyes he knew you were coming around. He was just so angry. At Luke at Stephan and at himself. He had fucked up from word one he knew that. This wasn't the plan. He had so desperatly wanted to make tonight THE night. The meal and danceing having fun then bring you back to a romantic room and make love to you. To get your consent, to toy with you untill you were dripping begging for him and finally. finally spend himself inside you. And wake up tomorrow morning with you wrapped around him happy. tonight was supposed to be the first night of the rest of your lives. the introduction to your new life.but now that seemed the last thing that was going to happen, after manhandeling you like that he was sure you were now going to try and reject him completely. that this whole shit show was going to set the relationship back a good few weeks. you looked up cutely blushing.

"The..The bedroom is sweet...I like the sheets and...And the roses its romantic" he smiled down at you seeing that you was trying to overcome the little spat. He hummed grinning rubbing his hands across your back slowly feeling you unwind.

"You did ,did you? well I shall remember that" you opened you mouth then closed it slowly

"What is it? you looked like you was going to ask something very important then little one" you shuddered squirming under his gaze he noted you rubbing your thighs together.

"W-what is that thing? I-in there on the chair?" he smiled at your innocence and began ushering you to move so he could open the door guiding you out.

"That my love is a gift..For you mostly but I will also get some enjoyment out of it..It is called a sybian...Just think of it as my little babygirls very own rocking horse." he chuckled noticing you froze on the spot, he pressed you forward making you take step towards it.

"It rocks?" Henry laughed moving you closer.

"No my little love it does not rock, I have no doubt however that you will be once your on it...Not tonight tho I've my outburst has ruined our night already" you blinked you couldn't help being curious of the thing you blinked tilting your head, you might aswell start enjoying yourself afterall tonight youd made it clear you was going to stay of your own accord maybe its time to just take a leap of faith.

"No I want a go...And you did say its mine and that youd spoil me tonight...I want to play on it" his jaw dropped. What? Were you seriously initiating sex? It was the first time you'd started anything or even showed any real interest. He gulped looking from you to the expensive vibrator then you again. Could him clarifying your relationship have caused this change? Or was there something more at work, were their feelings involved. He wasn't sure but not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth he smiled nodding making you blush brightly and move forward running the tips of your fingers over the slim dildo inspecting it naively. Oh yes the night was back on track and Henry couldn't be more thrilled.

[theonceoverthinker]

A Tumultuous Embrace (1/5) (Golden Hook)

Summary: Captain Hook and Rumplestiltskin have wronged many a man in their days as villains, so many in fact that they’ve unknowingly overlapped on more than one occasion. What are they going to do when two of those cases want revenge and know exactly how to best take it? Now trapped together in a beyond compromising position, will Killian and Rumple be able to work together to fight against impossible odds and get home, or will their lingering hatred of each other prove to be their shared doom as they literally go down together?

AO3       Fanfiction.net

Dynamics Featured for this Chapter: Golden Hook (mentioned), Rumbelle (mentioned), Captain Swan (mentioned), Swan Beauty (mentioned)

Content Warnings for this Chapter: Assault 

A/N: This was supposed to be whump. It started from a freakin’ whump prompt! And don’t get me wrong -- the first two and a half chapters are a decently whumpy, but afterwards...well, you’ll see. But for now, enjoy this chapter of pure, slow burn whump (Yeah, I’m coining that term)!

Tagging @sherlockianwhovian, @black-wolf066, and @killian-whump! If you do (Or don’t, I promise I won’t be offended) want to be tagged in upcoming chapters of this fic, please let me know!

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CHAPTER 1: A TUMULTUOUS BEGINNING

Nine times out of ten, the sound of the bell above Rumple’s shop ringing would have Rumple at the ready beside his shop’s front counter in a matter of seconds. Given how quiet his shop often was -- especially these days -- the noise it made tended to linger in the air for at least a couple of seconds after sounding off. At the very most, it would give him business, and at the very least, the company would serve to make his day more exciting and give him something to tell Belle about over dinner in between bouts of reacting to the literature leanings of Storybrooke’s citizens.

Yes, nine times out of ten, Rumple had every reason to see what goings on had just entered his vicinity and acted on it.

Today, unfortunately for him, was that all too rare tenth time. 

And even after the immediacy of the ring, Rumple was in no hurry to so much as pick his head up, let alone actually go to the front of his shop.

But what put Rumple in a state like that?

Well, as with everyone else in the world -- no matter the realm -- some days were simply better than others. For Rumple, today was just about as bad as it could get for him and he hadn’t the energy to deal with anything else aside from the immediacy of his body’s needs. 

And right now, that need was for rest was the most pressing, leaving him unable to do anything in the face of such an urgent instinct but relent.

The reason behind Rumple’s exhaustion, apathy, and moodiness came down to two matters.

First, Gideon, now deep in his teething phase, had several of his now quite common bursts of crying fits last night. Despite the ample supply of teething toys Rumple and Belle had on hand to satiate their son’s needs, few sustained Gideon for more than a few minutes at the most. 

He must’ve gotten his fickleness from his father. 

Knowing Belle had spent the previous night caring for Gideon at the cost of any energy she may have had the following day, Rumple took it upon himself to give her a well-deserved night’s rest. The results did wonders for his wife’s sleep schedule, but horrors for his. He thanked his stars his job was almost defined by how slow business often was because today, Rumple barely found himself able to do anything more than sit in his shop’s backroom and try not to crumple or tarnish any goods under a head that spent more time supported by a table than supported by his neck. Already, he had taken two unintended naps, though neither did anything to help him recover from last night’s trials.

But that first reason was a side effect of a decision that Rumple made of his own volition and truly, he knew that he had no one to blame but himself for it. 

The second reason -- the one that made him not only apathetic to the ringing of his shop’s bell, but downright grouchy  -- was decidedly not. 

This morning, as Rumple struggled to keep his head from falling into a plate of eggs and toast, his lovely Belle announced that later this week, their family would be dining at the Swan house. Rumple was too tired to bother holding in his subsequent groan. That groan resulted in a low-key argument between he and Belle that was decidedly not resolved by the time they parted ways for the day and Rumple had a strong feeling that an end to that argument would be no more in sight when he came home than when he left.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t stand anything about that family -- far from it. Things had been complicated between he and Emma in the past, but nowadays, he got along well enough with her. And Henry was his grandson and someone he’d wished to further connect to for a long time now. Finally, he had been offered something of a chance and in some ways, that felt like a second chance connecting with Bae. 

Yes, an evening with Emma and Henry sounded nice. For them, Rumple found no issue in doing his best to not just get along, but thrive in a deeper relationship.

However, neither of them were the problem.

Instead, it was the third member of that household that was causing him enough grief to challenge his wife.

Rumple considered himself lucky. Following the breaking of his mother’s curse, much of the bad blood shared between all manner of people in Storybrooke was forgotten. Facing the possibility of certain death tended to have that effect on people.

And few benefitted from that olive branch more than he did. His trips through town no longer made the levity surrounding his fellow townspeople wilt like a rose during winter. Hell, sometimes, he even had a friendly exchange where he and another would talk about their wives or children while waiting in line for groceries or during trips to the library. Rumple never expected to like that as much as he did, but Storybrooke had really started to feel like home for reasons more than just Belle and Gideon’s presences.

Time had a funny way of doing that.

That said, there were some slates that weren’t as easy to clean as others and one of those was the shared animosity between himself and Captain Hook.

Dealing with Hook wasn’t especially hard, but he wouldn’t call it especially easy either. Rumple had accepted Hook as a part of his existence and they silently agreed to a truce. Their paths crossed few and far between enough that there was no cause to stew in their mutual animosity. They just came and went as they wished and that was that.

It didn’t mean that either of them had to like it, and no, neither of them liked it at all, but given the circumstances, their situation was about as good as they could ask for -- awkward, but not miserable. 

Rumple only hoped things would’ve stayed that way.

But then Emma had to go and befriend Belle, and with that friendship, force their two hostile husbands together. 

Why couldn’t the two of them just leave well enough alone?

So yeah, Rumple found himself in the emotional crossfires of exhausted and cranky today and thinking about his reasons for either only served to make the emotions ever more intense.

Who knew the phrase ‘like father, like son’ also worked in reverse?

Like his baby boy, he was just tired.

So when the bell went off in his shop, Rumple honestly wasn’t sure if that’s even what it was and thus didn’t bother getting up from the comfort and privacy of the back room to go investigate. 

In fact, in quite the opposite move, he started to fall back asleep.

Rumple told himself it wouldn’t be an issue. He had magic set up to alert him if anything was stolen, and beyond that, short of another crisis, he didn’t care about the odd customer or two and their burdensome wants. So what if he ignored them? The worst that could happen would be him pissing off a customer, but then again...who in this town HADN’T he pissed off at this point? One more wouldn’t make a difference.

By the time the subsequent footsteps had entered the back room, Rumple barely resonated them. What fight his brain was putting up against the pull of sleep was losing fast and dissolving quicker by the second.

When that little bit of fight in him gave in, he finally allowed himself to drift off.

That decision turned out to be all that was needed for his guests to take what -- or rather who -- they wanted.

And only hours later would Rumple feel the resulting pain from the baseball bat that soon after his departure to the realm of dreams, would harshly make contact with his head.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Killian Jones, whether thanks to his naval training or simply the demands of being a captain, could be quite the creature of habit when he wanted to be. 

After over two hundred years of surprises, from the daily adventures of his life of piracy to the endless twists and turns of Neverland to the magic and monsters that made up so much of Killian’s life after meeting Emma, there was something that could be said about the comfort of a routine. Routines allowed for a relative sense of calm in one’s life. They were a chance to let the brain rest a bit, something all too necessary for life in the near constant state of excitement Storybrooke offered.

And that sentiment it what brought Killian to the docks this evening. It was a nice detour on his stroll home from work as well as quiet and barren from crowds around the end of his shift, so he made visiting the seaside spot a regular part of his week. The calm of the ocean as it laid beside him on a calm night allowed him to release the tension from the day.

It also made for quite the stress reliever. 

When Emma and Belle first started hanging out after a trip to the library on Emma’s part that went exceptionally well, Killian was thrilled. Heaven knew they both deserved more friends, especially ones that were a touch more removed from their respective parts of the family, and of everyone they could’ve chosen as a friend, they did a damn good job of it. So Killian encouraged Emma to spend as much time as she wanted with Belle so that they could enjoy what the other could provide for companionship.

But then they had to start involving both himself and his bloody crocodile, and that’s where Killian support found itself waning.

If there was ever anything truly difficult to deal with in Storybrooke these days, it was the idea of letting Rumplestiltskin come and go as he pleased. While many a sin had been forgiven all throughout the town and their very extended family, Killian didn’t care to extend that as much with Rumple as he had with others. It wasn't a war between the two of them by any means -- they had silently settled on something of a cease fire for the sake of their families and the well being of the town they shared, but as for anything beyond that, Killian refused. There was simply too much baggage accumulated over the years to even consider bothering with any niceties beyond his barest efforts. 

And Killian held no doubts in his mind that Rumple felt the same way about him. Even with their truce, their encounters were no less awkward. For the most part, thankfully, they’d been kept to a minimum.

However, now that was about to change.

Later on this week -- in four days to be precise -- they’d all be dining together, putting Rumple and Killian far closer together than he and he expected Rumple ever would’ve wanted to be and for far longer than it couldn be reasonably expected for a spat to not break out.

Killian didn’t need to tell Emma of his dislike of the event -- he was certain that his face had done that well enough by Emma’s assurance that it wouldn’t be too bad. With all due respect to his wife -- he begged to differ.

He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Rumple was trying to weasel his way out of it -- because he was honestly trying to as well… 

How weird was it to want his crocodile to succeed for once?

Quite weird, and that’s why he was he needed a level of stress relief. 

The sea was one of the few constants in Killian’s life -- perhaps that’s part of why he found it so calming to gaze at. Even during the evening when it resembled tar more than water, it was still beautiful. 

Killian stared at the abyss of ocean that stretched into the practically invisible horizon. It had warded off a nice portion his disdain for the dinner, though there was still a good deal of it left.

He had done a good job being a better man. It was okay to have limits as to how good he could be. Killian knew that and he knew that Emma knew that. So he didn’t feel particularly unjustified in not wanting to have to entertain his enemy for an entire evening, especially when he also knew that one evening would inevitably lead to another and another. He wasn’t going anywhere and neither was Rumple. Would Emma and Belle’s friendship end up subjecting the both of them to a lifetime’s worth of discomfort?

It was awful to think that. Killian didn’t WANT to think that.

But he did.

What would he do? He presently hadn’t a clue, but he didn’t think he could just leave it at that. If simply coexisting with Rumplestiltskin proved to be the occasional pain, he couldn’t imagine how awful it would be seeing him on an even more regular basis.

Killian could only imagine how awful that would be -- sharing his home, table, and even more of his time with Rumple than he’d already wasted without Rumplestiltskin being present. And after everything that he’d been put through at Rumple’s hands since he first arrived in Storybrooke, that all only felt worse.

No, he’d have to talk with Emma. He wouldn’t do it. She’ll understand -- she always understands him. At the very least, maybe he’ll grant himself a stay of execution until the moment Emma and Belle’s friendship makes contact between himself and his crocodile completely unavoidable.

A shudder overcame Killian. Just how terrible would that moment be when it was finally here?

Killian didn’t want to know.

The calm of the sea seemed to be failing at its job. Now, he felt more stressed than ever. 

Maybe it was time to go back home.

Not even one step away from his location was he when suddenly, he heard a cracking sound.

Before Killian could even turn his head to investigate, the answer made itself known -- someone had broken the street lamp he was standing under, shrouding his vision in darkness. It was a good thousand feet to the next street lamp in either direction, and Killian could only see the twinkle of the lights beaconing in the distances.

Killian reached for his cellphone to call Emma, but just as his hand was started its motion towards his pocket, the arm attached to it was grabbed and twisted.

He tried to shout, but was stopped by a punch to his jawline. 

Stumbling back, Killian tried to regain his balance, but was quickly grabbed again.

A gloved hand pushed itself against his mouth and a torso did the same to the back of his head. Killian shouted louder, but little escaped. He bit the hand in front of him, but it remained roughly pressed against him. Between the hand and the torso, it felt like his head was in danger of being smashed. 

His eyes peered up to get a look at his assailant.

Or should he say, assailants.

If Killian could describe them in one word, that word would be crooked. 

Crooked noses sat above crooked smiles that only gave hints at what were likely crooked motivations.

Killian had dealt with these two men before.

Never did he expect anything to come of their encounter. 

But that was the thing about Storybrooke -- problems of the past had their way of coming back and biting them in the ass.

And now, Horace and Jasper were back in his life, with far too much of an advantage for Killian’s liking.

Hopefully, Killian had the power to do something about that.

He swiped his hook at Horace, but Horace caught it mid-swing.

“I think we can get rid of this. Give that wife of yours something to find when she goes looking for you. What do you think about that?”

As Horace pulled the brace connecting his hook to his body off, Killian’s only response came in the form of a steely glare.

“There, that’s better. Jasper,” Horace said, looking just above Killian’s head at his other kidnapper. “Keep your grip on him. I’ll have him out in a bit.”

Jasper, who was still holding Killian’s mouth and head hostage snickered. 

“You got it, Horace.”

Killian felt his nostrils flare up with rage as they pulled at whatever air they could to continue living.

Given his ability to survive all manner of environments, they were damn experts at that by now.

But while breathing helped Killian hold on, it did little to help him escape.

With few other solutions, Killian began giving into whatever base instincts -- however limited -- that he had, which in his state, only amounted to convulsing his body in every direction he could.

Still, it did no good, and his position was only made worse with a swift kick against the back of his shins that brought him to his knees.

Even as Killian fell, Jasper’s hold remained as firm as it had been the entire time.

Though Killian’s will to fight had not lessened at all, something deep within told him that he wasn’t getting out of this -- not by a long shot and definitely not by himself.

The last thing Killian saw before blacking out was a wooden baseball bat slamming into his head.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Transporting bodies, if one knows what they’re doing, isn’t hard, and Horace and Jasper knew damn well what they were doing. Neither was a stranger to heists and with a decently sized truck at their disposal thanks to their cursed professions, some careful timing, and a bit of luck, it was almost too easy.

And now, Rumplestiltskin and Captain Hook were theirs to do with as they deemed fit -- and oh did they have a plan for what they deemed fit.

“Get them both settled here, Jasper,” Horace ordered. “Come on, hurry up. We want to get them taken care of before they wake up.”

“IF they wake up, that is,” Jasper shot back, chuckling. “You really did a number on them with those clonks on the head, Horace.”

Horace dismissed him with a casual wave of his hand. “Don’t worry, Jasper. They’ll wake up, alright…After all they put us through, they don’t deserve to get off so easily, and we’re not done with them just yet by a bloody sight. Now start tying them up.”

Jasper seemed a bit put off by the fact that he was going to have to do the hard part of the work this time around, but Horace wasn’t about to allow himself be guilted otherwise. Whether he liked it or not, Jasper was likely the most talented knot tier in history and Horace didn't want to chance even the possibility of a premature escape. 

No, Jasper would ensure that their prisoners would suffer their fates side-by-side and helpless, just as they had to do all those years ago.

“How do you want me to arrange them?”

Horace thought about it for a second before a thought struck him.

The Dark One and Captain Hook had screwed up their lives while in pursuit of revenge on each other.

A side-by-side torture was too good for them.

Why not instead put them as they always were: At each other’s throats?

Yeah, Horace liked that idea quite a lot.

“Let’s make them face each other,” Horace instructed. “Put Hook under The Dark One’s pits. That way, the shorty won’t be able to get his arms past his head. And then stick his arms under Hook’s.” It would no doubt be hard to get them like that, particularly that last step, but if it worked the way Horace envisioned it, their last moments on this Earth would be truly hellish.

Jasper smirked. “Good thinking, Horace. One problem though: Hook’s only got one hand. Aren’t you worried he’ll slip out?”

Horace hummed as he considered the problem Jasper presented him with. How indeed COULD he keep Hook in place? Normal binds wouldn’t work when one could just slip their arm out of them.

No, he needed something that would stick.

Horace considered his own body. He balled his left fist and looked up and down his arm. With his right hand, he formed a circle and slowly traced over the outer layer of his arm, looking for a point where he was sure a bond couldn’t slip out. When he arrived at his elbow, he fastned the circle and made a move in the other direction.

Upon seeing that it couldn’t move, he practically beamed.

“Bind his right hand to his left elbow.”

Jasper grinned at him.

“That’ll keep them awfully close,” he said, clearly unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“That’s the plan.” Jasper got to work, arranging them as Horace ordered at a quick pace, especially for him.

He supposed, as was the case for his captives, a lust for vengeance could do that to someone.

“That’s it, get them nice and tight.”

When Jasper was done, Horace tested the strength of the binding. Pleased as the strength and layers of the knots, he offered his friend a satisfied nod. 

“So what do we do now?” Jasper asked.

“Now?” Horace repeated. “Now, we just sit back and ready ourselves for some sweet revenge.”

[justanotherwannabeclassic]

One and Done

Years ago and hundreds of miles away from one another, both Emma Swan and Killian Jones' dreams died in a single night. Years later, their paths cross, and those very crushed dreams may be what brings them together.

Author’s Note: I’m honestly shocked I’ve been able to write something, let alone a Modern AU. Credit for me accomplishing this goes to @distant-rose​. You can also read this on AO3.

Rating: M

Content Warning: Mild smut, mild description of traumatic injuries

XXX

The first time she meets Killian Jones, they’re at a cookout held in a mutual friend’s backyard. He has a nice laugh and an even nicer smile, but as they talk over craft beer and hot dogs, she can’t help but think about how she knows of him, about how almost everyone interested in collegiate sports knows his name and why almost everyone else doesn’t.

She’d been in high school back then, with big dreams of college and a future and making a name for herself. She’d been sitting on the couch drinking lukewarm beer, her boyfriend’s arm wrapped around her as he and his roommates cheered on their school. It had been Storybrooke’s first time making it into the NCAA Tournament, and even though no one really expected them to win, spirits had been high. Emma recalls how they commentators spent a lot of time saying Killian Jones’ name, throwing out words like “lottery” and “one-and-done”, terms she didn’t understand that Neal seemed to. Neal didn’t like him, that much had been obvious, his insults growing more cutting as the game wore on and more alcohol coursed through his veins. She’d smiled and nodded, not wanting to disagree. She’d been “lucky” to be there anyway, still more than a little bit in awe that a college guy would be interested in her, so she held her tongue. (She doesn’t hold her tongue anymore.)

She remembers the moment it happened, doubts she could ever forget. It’s one of those moments that’s forever seared into her mind, watching him jump upupup, then come tumbling downdowndown.

She’s a cop now. She’s been well exposed to blood and bone and the many traumas the human body can endure, but that’s now. Prior to that moment, she’d never actually seen bone slice through skin, not to someone living and breathing and in considerable pain. Neal had cheered, said something about being “a regular guy now”. Emma wishes then that she had taken it as a sign of things come, but she’d been sixteen and naive, and she’d just watch a man’s career end before her eyes.

Looking at him now, she can hardly tell that he’d suffered such a traumatic injury on a national scale. The only tell is that he spends so little time talking about himself and instead peppers her with questions about her own life.

“Have you always lived in Boston?”

She shakes her head. “No. Only for the past few years, and that’s because David told me there was an opening at his precinct.”

“Where were you before?”

“Here, there, everywhere.” She doesn’t like talking about her past that much, in inability to find a stable home forever a sore spot. “Name a place, and I probably lived there.”

“Djibouti.”

“What the-- excuse me?” “Djibouti. It’s a country in the Horn of Africa. You said name a place, and I did.” His eyes sparkle and his brows dance when he says this. It’s infuriating. It’s also endearing. “I take it that you haven’t lived there.”

“You never would have struck me as someone so pedantic,” she says, trying to frown but utterly failing.

“I’m full of surprises, love,” he tells her, and his eyes promise something both dangerous and thrilling. But then he shrugs and the moment is lost. “Truth be told, I’m an AP history teacher. Comes with the territory.”

So this is where dreams go to die. High School.

As the afternoon wears on, Emma is surprised that she spends much of the event talking to him. She manages to redirect the conversation away from her, and he seems to respect that. They talk movies and museums, Boston traffic and the insane cost of living. What they don’t talk about is sports.

She tells him about Henry, and he doesn’t blink, but instead takes it in stride. She explains that her son’s favorite subject in English and he prefers not to do math.

“He still gets good grades, though,” she boasts, unable to hide the pride in her voice. No matter how many things she’s done wrong in her life, her son is proof that she can do at least one thing right. “And teachers love him. Really, you should be disappointed he’s not in your district. He’d be your favorite student, no doubt.”

“He sounds like a great kid.” Killian Jones cranes his head, turning to survey the crowded yard. “Is he here?”

Emma shakes her head. “He’s in New York. It’s his week with his dad.”

“A pity. I would have liked to meet him.”

Emma realizes in that moment that Killian Jones has passed a test she never intended to give.

It’s late by the time they leave the cookout, together but not. Killian had taken the subway in, and Emma offers to drive him back to his place.

“Nothing good happens on the train this late at night,” she says, “and, besides, an Uber would be ungodly expensive.”

She ignores the suggestive expressions Ruby throws her way, or the cautious one on David's face. As much as she’d like to pretend they were reading too much into her interactions with Killian Jones, the truth is that they’re not. She knows where this night is heading. Henry is with Neal, and she’s feeling good as much as she doesn’t want to spent the night alone in her empty apartment.

She’s pretty sure Killian feels the same way, and because of that, Emma feels no surprise when he invites her up for a nightcap and he shows no shock when she accepts.

Both her shirt and bra are on the floor before they even make it to the bedroom. She notices the scars on his wrist, but pretends not to, and it’s easy enough when he peels off his own shirt. He no longer has physique of the athlete he used to be, as to be expected, but he is toned well enough. Emma enjoys watching the way his muscles flex as he climbs over.

Like most first encounters, the experience is somewhat awkward, however there is a finesse to his movements that tells her that he knows what he’s doing, and she learns he’s a breast man based on much attention he pays her chest, licking and twisting. When it becomes too much, she urges him down, intrigued to feel just what his tongue can deliver. It takes some time, but he follows her instructions, and that is something she appreciates just as much as the way his tongue laps at he clit and his fingers curl inside of her.

He’s smug when she finishes, less so when she wraps her hand around his length and begins to move. It doesn’t take long for him to reach for a condom, and even less time to tear open the foil packet and sheath himself. Emma gasps when he slides into her. Though she isn’t the biggest fan of the feel of sex with a condom, it’s far better than any of the alternative so she focuses instead of the pleasant stretch of the cock and the way his pelvis presses against hers when he slides into her again and again.

After he comes, they take turns in the bathroom. He beckons her to join him back bed, offering an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt as pajamas. Emma has an excuse on the tip of her tongue. She’s normally not one to stay the night, but something inside her to accept. It’s only after she’s dressed that she notices the word “Wildcats” printed across in blue block lettering, and her stomach twists.

In bed, they spoon her back to his front. As she lays over his bicep, Emma can’t help but trace the silver scars that adorn his wrist.

“Sports injury,” he tells her, his voice soft.

She could play dumb, pretend that she knows nothing about him. It would be easy. Emma Swan has never done anything the easy way.

“I know.”

Killian tenses. “So you have heard of me.”

“Back then, when it happened, I was dating a guy who went to Storybrooke. I watched it on TV.”

“Oh.”

“I’m pretty sure that was the night Henry was conceived too. I think that’s why I remember it so well, because everything changed that night. I just didn’t realize it at the time.” She winces once finishes, not wanting to actually downplay his trauma. She hopes he didn’t take it that way.

“Well, I guess something good came out of that night.” He doesn’t pull away from her, but Emma can feel the rigidity of the muscles. “Is that why you came home with me tonight?”

“No,” she tells him. She thinks she should be offended by the question, but she isn’t. Instead, she finds herself hoping he believes her.

“They would, you know, right after. Plenty of pity fucks for the sad, broken basketball star.” Killian’s voice is more sad than angry, and Emma understands what he’s telling her isn’t to hurt her, but instead his own way of venting, of working through the pain. “In Lexington, when you wear the jersey, they treat you like a god. All the girls want you, and the guys want to be you.”

“And after you hurt yourself, that went away?”

“No, actually. They don’t forget you there. Not even the walks on, some of them still do camps even. But that’s why I had to leave.”

“Because you didn’t want to be reminded of what you lost,” she finishes for him. She considers turning to face him, but doesn’t. It’s easier this way, not having to having to look into one another’s eyes and make their deepest confessions. “Before I lived in Boston, I lived in Portland.”

“Oregon?”

“Maine. I moved there after I finished high school, but before I had Henry. I told myself that it was because Portland likely had better opportunities for a single mother like me, but really it was to get away from Storybrooke and everything.” Neal had wanted nothing to do with her after she’d told him about her pregnancy. He’d been pissed she refused to abort. It was only when Henry had been a toddler that Neal had waltzed back into his life, and that had only been because of his fiance-now-wife Tamara.

She’s not sure why she’d telling him all of this. It had taken years before she’d gotten the nerve to tell everything to Mary Margaret, but here in Killian’s arms, the words fall easy. Maybe it’s because he understands. Maybe it’s because his life also irrevocably changed that day. She’s not sure why, but what she does know that in this moment, she feels safe.

He must feel the same way, because he whispers, “What kindred spirits are we.”

It takes everything in her not to laugh, because he sounds so incredibly poetic, and she’s the exact opposite. “I was going to say we’re both fucked up, but we’ll go with that.”

“Yeah, we’ll go with that.”

That don’t say anything after that. Slowly but surely, Emma finds herself drifting off the sleep, and she is welcomed by peaceful dreams.

[mairibarra]

SEMI CHARMED LIFE

summary: “You guys have kept in contact this whole time?” Bill asked, brow disappearing underneath hair line as he looked like his old friends in amazement. “And you guys are.. what? Room mates?”

Eddie avoided looking at Richie as he answered. “Yeah, uh… room mates. Something like that.”

[or: the adult!losers reunion, done 2000s sit-com style, just like we all deserve.]

chapter count: 1/?

Ben Hanscom kicked at the dirt path alongside the Barrens. It was as just as obviously a foot-made path as it had been twelve years earlier, the last time Ben had walked down here. Back then, he had never been walking alone- always flanked with two or more of his friends from youth.

For safety, Ben remembered bitterly. It had been little Eddie Kaspbrak who had made the first statement, that nobody should go into the Barrens alone, after Ben had been attacked that day. They hadn’t even been my friends, Ben thought to himself. He picked at long, overgrown yellowing grass alongside the path. I’d only known Beverly then, but they’d stood by me. Stole supplies for me. Even though it put them higher on Henry Bowers’ shit list.

Henry Bowers… Ben let out a shaky laugh, pressing his hand against the long faded scar on his stomach. It was barely visible now days, over a decade faded in age and dimmed with the loss of his childhood weight. That day, though undoubtably terrible, had been the last day for many years that Ben Hanscom had been able to say he didn’t have any friends.

Those same friends that Ben hadn’t been spoken to near on a decade, people he’d considered to be his soul mates and thought he’d never separate from. They’d graduated high school, moved across the country, and by the time the summer of 1996 rolled around- they didn’t even speak at all.

Until Derry High School had sent out the e-mails, announcing that in the May of 2005 that they would be holding a 10 year reunion for the graduates of 1995. Mike Hanlon had reached out not long after that. Ben had a Facebook, used it for his work, and had looked up his former friends after hearing from Mike. Most of them had not taken the leap to website, but two had.

Richie Tozier, who seemed to embraced his given name of Richard, seemed to only have work friends on his Facebook as well. He’d gone into work with radio, such a Richie job Ben had thought fondly when he’d realized. There was a slight illusion of some sort of serious relationship on Richie’s Facebook, if just from small comments of his own and that of his friends. He didn’t list a relationship status, nor any name of the radio station he worked for. Ben had scrolled through Richie’s page for his entire lunch break and still hadn’t reached the end.

Beverly Marsh had also gone online with Facebook, but had taken a longer time for Ben to find. At some point in the last ten years, Beverly had gone and tied the knot. Her Facebook name now fell under Bev Rogan and was listed as Married to Thomas Rogan. Her privacy settings were much higher than Richie’s- which had easily been non-existent, so Ben hadn’t been able to see any of her personal posts. He supposed that was for the best, if the uncomfortable feeling in his gut at just the thought of Beverly being married had anything to say about it- he wouldn’t have been able to look at Beverly’s happy life.

Ben moved himself up the steep hill, and walked back to his patiently waiting cab. His overly friendly driver grinned up at in the rearview mirror. “Anything interesting down there?” He asked him happily.

“Yeah, yes,” Ben said, voice croaking. “I was just…” An image of bulky thick rimmed glasses, and burning red hair flashed in Ben’s mind. “Just visiting some old ghosts.”  

→  →  →

“Just not too hot!” Eddie Kaspbrak was calling over his shoulder as his husband was attempting to assure him out the front door. “You know not to make it too hot, it’s really important. If it’s too hot, it’ll-“

“Eddie, sweetheart,” Maggie Tozier laughed happily, patting her starting to winkle hand against Eddie’s soft cheek. “I’ve done this once or twice. You don’t have anything to worry about, sweetie. Go see your friends, have good time.”

“Yes, I-” Eddie nodded, feeling Richie’s arm coming to rest around his waist. “I know, I know. But we have a very particular schedule we’ve been working with and if it’s-“

“Okay,” Richie pressed a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek then grinned at his mother. “We’re going to get going, before we’re late and Eddie says something rude that he doesn’t mean.” Eddie grumbled, but flushed and leaned into his husband’s gentle touch. “Love you, Ma. Thanks so much for doing this. Tell Dad we’ll go out for a drink before we head home.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “He’s your father. Tell him yourself.” Richie gave a matching eye roll, ushering Eddie out of the door and shutting it behind them.

→  →  →

“Who’s a good boy?” Mike Hanlon cooed as his six month old golden retriever, Henry, jumped up on him with his paws landing in Mike’s awaiting hands. “You are! You’re the goodest boy!”

Mike’s boyfriend, Alexander, padded into the farm house’s kitchen in his flannel house coat with a steaming cup of what could only be coffee in his hand. He grinned at Mike and shook his head. “Don’t say things like that. You’re going to give the other animals a complex.”

Mike beamed. “They can’t hear me from in here.”

“You don’t know that.”

Mike and Alexander had been together going on two years now. Six months earlier, Mike’s father had been diagnosed with Alzheimer Disease, and when Mike had expected to loose out on the best relationship of his life because of the time he’d be (willingly) giving up to care for his father, Alexander had surprised him for the millionth time since Mike had met him. He’d jumped right into the situation, moving his things into the Hanlon’s farmhouse and taking up what Mike felt might be a little more than his shared of responsibilities.

“When are you meeting your friends?” Alexander asked, jumping to sit up on the countertop with his legs dangling.

Mike sighed, scooping his pup into his arms and pressing his face into his fur. “Soon. Really soon. I should get going if I’m going to make into town in time.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Wasn’t this whole get up your idea? Why do you seem so reluctant to actually go?”

Mike walked forward and dropped Henry into his boyfriend’s ready open arms. “I’m not reluctant… I’m definitely excited to see them. It’s just… it’s been a long time, you know? I guess I’m nervous.”

Alexander nodded, scratching behind Henry’s floppy ear. “I don’t think you need to be worried. If even half the things you told me about your old friends are true, you’re going to click back to who you were immediately.”

→  →  →

Beverly Rogan had stepped off the train in Derry and had absolutely no idea what the hell she was doing. The town of Derry hadn’t changed in the decade since she’d turned her away from it and never looked back. Same stores that looked like they hadn’t been renovated since the 1960s, same people on the streets giving her dirty looks- just a little bit older. She hadn’t even come back to this place when her father had died six years earlier, and could barely explain to herself why she was coming back now. It certainly wasn’t to celebrate her days at Derry High School.

She hadn’t been able to explain it to her husband, either. Tom didn’t like surprises, and he very much did not like surprises that including his wife packing up half her belongings and getting on a train. Belongings she was still carrying on with her, which was only drawing more eyes to her. Tom Rogan was a good guy, but as Beverly had learned slowly- not the best husband. He was neglectful and didn’t’ seem to have any idea of how to make a person truly happy. She’d walked out to return to her high school reunion, and didn’t know she if she’d been walking out on her marriage overall.

Beverly stood outside the old Dancing Clown diner, knowing that she was early, knowing that she’d never given Mike a straight answer on whether or not she was coming. Inhaling deeply, she started up to the building and went inside.

→  →  →

Bill Denbrough tripped and nearly fell down the flight of stairs at parents house. He bounced into the living room, trying to stuff his foot into a sock. His twenty-one year old brother barely even looked up from video game and let out a laugh. “Ha. Fucking loser.”

“You’re one to talk,” Bill shot back, licking his lips and frowning to try to keep himself from stuttering. It was never as bad as when he was back in Derry, there were times when he could years without stuttering if he didn’t make a home visit. “When’s the last time you got off that cuh-couch?”

George held up a half eaten Pizza Pocket and shook it in display. Bill made a disgusted noise and looked over at his father, who’d yet to glance up from his book since breakfast that morning. Turning away, Bill grabbed a jacket from rack by the front door and shrugged it on. The air was still crisp in Maine this early in May, he was lucky Audra had thought to bring them. Despite being the native Maine-r, Bill often forgot what life was like living in Maine. It sometimes felt almost like a repression, and everything was burning into his mind that second he crossed into the state like. Never mind once they’d ridden into Derry.

Bill and Audra had spent the better part of the last year in England, sending their belongings to their unlived in New York apartment while themselves and enough things for the weekend made their way to Derry.

“You’re leaving now?” Audra asked, appearing by Bill’s side as he started putting his boots on. He looked up at his girlfriend of three years and smiled at her. “Have fun, I hope your friends are as awesome as you remember them being. When you get back, there’s something I’ve got to talk to you about.”

“No, no no, hey no,” Bill stood up straight and took Audra’s hands into his own. “You can’t pull that on me, baby. You know I’ll be able to do is worry about what you’re going to tell me the whole time. Just tell me now.”

Audra smiled. “You don’t need to worry about it right now.”

“But I will, if you don’t tell me what it is?” Bill said, rubbing his thumbs against the backs of Audra’s hands. “Please just tell me.”

“I’m pregnant.”

→  →  →

“Are you going to go inside?” Patty Blum asked, taping the steering wheel and making her engagement ring flash in the sunlight that cast through the car window.

“Maybe.” Stanley Uris replied, picking at his peeling bottom and staring out at the Dancing Clown diner. “Definitely maybe.”

Patty sighed, part annoyed, part fond and turned off the car. She twisted in her seat and gave her fiancée the stare down. ‘If you didn’t want to come here, why didn’t you say so?”

Stan made a loud and offended noise. “I did say so! I said so very many times actually! You just ignored me, packs our backs for us and told me to stop being dramatic.” Stan crossed his arms and goodness nearly pouted.

Patty rolled her eyes. “You were being dramatic. I’m still not sure what your issue is… why are you so afraid of seeing your old friends?”

Stan pressed his head against the head rest of the seat. “I did some shit that I’m not proud of. My best friend… I… I was so desperate to get away from this place, and I kind of betrayed him.”

“So, you’re not going to go in there because you’re afraid of your high school best friend that you stabbed in the back ten years ago?” Patty chuckled. “If it’s eating you up this badly, I can promise he’s moved on. You’re going to go in there, and you’re talk to him, and you’re going find out all the amazing things he’s done since this stupid betrayal that probably means nothing now. And you’ll tell him yours, and he’ll be happy for you and if he’s not- then fuck him.”

Stan cupped Patty’s cheek and kissed her lightly. “Have I told you yet today that I love you?”

“Mmm once or twice,” Patty said lightly. “But it’s always nice to hear it. Now go get em, baby. Call me if you need somebody to pick you up.”

Stan nodded, slipped out of the car and walked into the old diner. His eyes moved through until it fell onto what had once been the Losers Table and saw an all too familiar looking red head seated. Grinning to himself, he tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and stepped up beside the table. Beverly looked like she walked straight to the diner from however she’d gotten into town, her bags all jammed underneath the table.

“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in?” Stan said in a happy voice that he hoped didn’t sound too forced. Forced or not, Beverly beamed at his greeting and quickly jumped to her feet. Even in high school, Bev had been shorter than Stan and that had been before Stan had hit that oh so rare growth spurt in his freshman year of college.  

“Stanley!” Beverly said cheerfully, squeezing his hips. “Stan the MAN! Look at you! You’ve got to be as tall as Richie now!”

Stan smiled bashfully- his perfect dimple smile, as Patty always called it- and slid into the booth beside her. They both kicked at the luggage under the table, giggling to each other like children. The diner seemed oddly deserted, a place that had been so important to them growing up, now seemed ready to close with a single moment’s notice. The door jingle open and Mike Hanlon, the man breaking into a deep grin the second he caught sight of his friends.

“Stanley Uris and Beverly Marsh,” Mike said in a laugh as Beverly leapt right back up to her feet and rushed at him. Mike patted at the top of her head, smiling softly at Stan from across the diner. “Why am I not surprised that you two beat me to my own event?”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re the only person who lives in Derry and you couldn’t even be the first person here?” Stan shot back dryly, standing as well and clasping Mike on the shoulder. The words seemed to hang in the air for moment, heavy and tense, before Mike simply smiled and they took their seats back around the diner table.

“You stayed in Derry?” Beverly asked, eyes widening as she slipped in to sit beside Mike. There was the distinct sound of three pairs of feet kicking at Beverly’s aggressive amount of luggage while Mike avoided making eye contact with Stan. “I thought you went to NYU with Eddie?”

“I was going to,” Mike said in light voice. “That was the plan but you know how life can be. Things get a little mixed up and then..”  The bell to the door rang out again, stealing the attention from all three former Losers. Bill Denbrough nearly stumbled into the diner, pale and looked dazed, seeming almost as though they’d came in by accident. He dropped into the booth without so much of a greeting, and dropped his hand onto Stanley’s shoulder. Stan crinkled his nose up in repulsion and forced himself to allow that distantly familiar touch.

“How you doin’ honey?” Beverly asked gently, looking between Mike and Stan’s worried gazes.

Bill groaned deeply, pressing his face harder into the crock of Stanley’s neck. “Life is terrible, nothing good happens to anybody and then we all die.”

Stanley coughed awkwardly. “Listen, Bill… I appreciate your struggle, but if you could please…”

“Sit up, man,” Mike said a little sharply and Bill startled upwards. “Oh, shit, Stan, I’m so sorry, I tuh-tuh-totally forgot!”

“It’s fine,” Stan said mildly, waving Bill’s apology off. “Is it really that bad being back in Derry? I know it’s no back packing trip through Europe but…”

Bill barked out a laugh while Beverly shook her head. “What, Stan? Did you keep tabs on us for the last ten years? Should we be worried?”

Stan shook his head. “Not all of you.”

The ringing silence danced over the table before Mike cleared his throat awkwardly. “You mean Richie, right? Stan, I really don’t think that Richie-“

“Don’t think I what?” Richie’s voice called over from where he was ducking into the entrance with an arm tossed around one Eddie Kaspbrak. The entire group of former Losers jumped, Stan feeling his heart leapt into his throat. “You guys all already talking shit about mem before I’m even here to defend myself?”

“Yup,” Beverly agreed, tears starting to well up into her eyes. “You have to know that somethings never change, don’t ya?”

Richie hummed, dropping his arm from Eddie’s shoulder to catch Beverly as she came running for him. Eddie laughed lightly, as Richie spun Bev around and narrowly avoided knocking over several chairs. He slid into Beverly’s seat, greeting Mike with a tight hug and smiling towards Bill and Stan across the table. As Beverly attempted to sit back beside Eddie, Richie slipped in before in and took the spot. Beverly raised her brow as she moved in beside Bill, muttering something under her breath about somethings really don’t change.

Richie gave a over joyous greeting to Mike, his voice sobering up as he glanced across the table towards Bill and Stan. He gave one simple nod, forced a small smile and pushed out one simple: “Lads.”

“Richard.” Stan said back through a dry throat. Eddie reached out and began fiddling with the sugar dispenser, Mike noting the discolour of paler skin on his ring finger and frowning.

“What are we all talking about?” Eddie asked, speaking fast and voice high. Stan almost smiled at the memories of Eddie’s nervous voice, the kind he only used when desperate to talk about anything else.

“Billy here was about to tell us about his backpacking trip in Europe with his movie star girlfriend,” Beverly jumped in, pinching at Bill’s cheeks.

“No fucking shit, Denbrough?” Richie laughed, fingers twitching as though desperate to return to a muscle memory habit but being unable to. “I always knew you were going to do some high living, but fuck, dude.”

“She’s not really a movie star,” Bill said, swaying slightly like he may be sick. “She’s a had a few roles in some B Lists and guest star roles on main broadcast television. She’s no Winona Ryder or anything.”

“Obviously,” Stan and Richie spoke up in unison, voices dancing in harmony. “Nobody could be Winona Ryder except Winona Ryder.”

Another awkward silence settled over the table, Stan biting his lip and looking down at the diner table while Richie looked up at the ceiling as though pissed with himself. Beverly thought she noticed Eddie’s hand slipping underneath the table, but was quickly pulled away from the moment by the diner’s door opening once more.

Ben Hanscom stumbled into the diner, out of breath and with mud stains on his jeans. He ran his fingers through his curlier-than-she-remembered hair as his danced through the diner until they landed on her. She watched the way the muscles in his neck hitched, as though he’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe, and she felt her lungs follow his inabilities for just a moment.

“Here we go,” Richie leaned over and whispered to Eddie, who pursed his lips in an attempt not to laugh. “Haystack! My main man! The biggest dick I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing! Pull up at a chair!”

Ben’s cheeks turned a deep red, and the rest of the table all burst out laughing as Ben followed through with Richie’s request. “Come on, Rich, we all know you haven’t even seen Ben’s dick.” Bill said with the first genuine smile he’d cracked since he’d gotten there.

Richie gave Bill a dark, deadpan expression. “You don’t know what I’m into.”

“Oh… Kay..” Bill said slowly, frowning to himself while Eddie nudged Richie’s shoulder gently.. “Suh-suh-sorry, I guess?”

Richie shook his head, and forced a quick smile. “It tis no problem, misuser! But as we have all arrived now, why don’t we give a quick run down of a decade! Eds and I here are still out in the big apple-“

“You and Eddie live together?” Beverly cut across him, frowning in confusion. Richie opened his mouth, then snapped it shut before looking towards Eddie. Eddie cleared his throat and smiled.

“After what happened with UCLA, Richie came with me to NYU instead of staying in Derry,” Eddie said with a shrug. “Since Mike wasn’t going to go anymore, we moved into the apartment together and I just we just never… stopped living together.”

“So, You guys have kept in contact this whole time?” Bill asked, brow disappearing underneath hair line as he looked like his old friends in amazement. “And you guys are.. what? Room mates?”

Eddie avoided looking at Richie as he answered. “Yeah, uh… room mates. Something like that.”

Richie slammed his hands down onto the table. “Somebody else talk now!!!”

Ben startled, then cleared his throat. “I uh… I actually live in New York, too.” He said slowly. “I work for the Pennywise Architecture firm. I’m just an intern still, might as well be unpaid but it’s a first step to my dream job so I deal with it.”

“Okay, not to make things kind of weird…” Beverly scratched at the side of her face. “But I actually live in New York, too. My husband got a transfer last spring, better pay and all that fun stuff. I don’t work, but I sell commissions on my art and a little bit clothing design. I might do something with that, I haven’t decided just yet. I think Tom wants to start a family so I’m not really sure just now.”

Richie narrowed his eyes, but Eddie quickly caught across him. “A family is so worth it, Beverly. Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

Beverly smiled blandly, and the conversation slowed until the Bill cleared his throat. “Audra and I actually just bought an apartment in New York. She wuh-wants to do some wuh-work on Broadway and I can wruh-write anywhere, so. We haven’t moved in yet, because we were in Euh-Europe but we’re going straight there after the ruh-reuinon.”

“I…” Stan cleared his throat, a look of concern and discomfort on his face. “I’m actually engaged, Patty she’s… the most amazing person I’ve ever met. She’s still in school, trying to be a high school teacher. She’s… finishing her degree at NYU once the new semester starts. We’re moving out there in like a month from Atlanta.”

Every face turned to look at Mike, who sighed and rubbed at his face. “I applied to some museum job in New York on a whim earlier this year, but I actually got it. I’m not going to go, my dad needs me here and my job is fine but… I told my partner that I’ve turned it down but I actually haven’t yet. I don’t know why I didn’t, I guess part of it just felt wrong.”

“What was it we all used to say back then?” Beverly asked, shaking her head slightly. “When all those weird things happened that we couldn’t explain?”

Ben looked at her and smiled. “Soulmates for the centuries.”  

[gray-autumn-sky]

Sleepless in Seattle, Chapter 6

February 13, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

“Thanks for picking Roland up,” Robin says, bristling a little as he comes into the house. “Apparently picking out where a bay window should go is the single most hardest thing Mary Margaret Nolan will ever have to decide.” He sighs as he unzips his coat. “Apparently her son’s future hinges on the placement of one nursery window.”

“Be nice,” Belle warns, grinning as she looks back at him. “She’s my friend.”

“Was her friend, Emma, there with her?” Ruby asks. “She was supposed to be.”

Robin blinks. “Uh… no?”

“Oh--”

“There was a painter and her husband came by and--”

“Pretty, blonde--”

“Usually wears a red jacket--”

His eyes narrow. “Oh--” And as their eye light up hopefully, he grimaces. Emma showed up just as he was leaving. Mary Margaret tried to introduce them, but he’d offered little more than a wave as he walked out, murmuring something as he walked past her about being late to pick up his son. “Oh.”

“Were you rude?” Belle asks pointedly. “Please tell me--”

“No. I… I was brisk. I thought I was late to pick up Roland.”

“So… did you think she was pretty?”

“She was… agreeable.”

“Robin!”

“I literally brushed past her on the way down the front steps. I didn’t see her.”

He watches and Belle and Ruby exchange a look, and then when their eyes shift back to him, they both smile in a way that makes him a bit uneasy.

“So, the reason Mary Margaret was being so particular--”

“Isn’t because she’s a pain in the ass?”

Belle’s eyes roll. “We thought that… maybe you and Emma--”

“I’m not ready.”

“Robin--”

“It’s been a year,” Belle says. “And you--”

“No,” Robin says, shaking his head. “It’s been ten months and--”

“You said you were open to dating again.”

“I said eventually I might be,” he says, looking to Ruby for assistance. “I’m not ready.” Taking a breath, Belle stands up and crosses the room to where he stands--and he knows a lecture is coming. “I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate that, just as I’ve appreciated everything the two of you have done for Roland and me, but….the thought of getting into something serious...”

“That’s just it. It’s not something serious. But it’ll get you back out there, warm ya up a bit.”

His brows arch as he looks at his sister. “Are you suggesting I use your friend for a weekend special at a Holiday Inn?”

“No,” Ruby sighs as she gets up from the couch. “That’s not what she meant.”

“Then what did she mean? Because--”

“I meant that you need to get back out there,” Belle says, letting her voice rise over his. “I meant that you need to interact with someone you’re not related and not paid to interact with.”

He bristles because he knows she’s right. “I… interact with…”

“Who?”

“Robin,” Ruby says as she joins them. “You’re young. You’re good looking and charming and--”

“Are you pitching me to… myself?”

Both Belle and Ruby roll their eyes as he folds his arms over his chest indignantly, digging in his heels similar to the way Roland does when he decides he’s not going to bed or doesn’t feel like showering--and suddenly, he feels like he’s twelve years old again, arguing with his little sister about something ridiculous, but something they’ll never convince the other of.

He’s not entirely why he’s so opposed to the idea. He’s all but admitted he’d like to find someone again, but wanting something and doing something are very different things. In his head, it’s getting easier to picture himself with someone--meeting someone at the market or in an elevator, feeling something and taking a risk by offering his number, then anxiously wondering if she’ll actually call--but the thought of actually sitting across from someone at dinner, the thought of making small talk and giving the most condensed version of his life over appetizers still doesn’t sit well with him.

“Robin, Marian wouldn’t want you to hide away from the world. She wouldn’t want your life to…” Belle stops, giminacing at whatever thing she was about to say, and her cheeks flush slightly causing heat to rise up the back of his neck and anger to bubble up in his chest as he fills in the blank she’s left.

“Look, it doesn't have to be Emma. We just think you two would get along. She’s not looking for anything serious--”

“What? So, just a hookup? That’s… that’s not really my thing.”

“Go to dinner. Eat some good food. Talk to her. See if you like her.” Ruby grins gently as she reaches out and presses her hand to his arm. “If you don’t, you don’t, but at least your feet will be wet. The next time will be easier.”

For a moment, he considers it. “Emma is a friend of yours?” They both both nod in unison. “And, as her friend, you’re… just offering her up as bait?”

“Bait is a little strong of a word,” Belle sighs.

“If it doesn't work out, it doesn’t work out. We wouldn’t want either of you to force anything, but…”

“...if it does work out…”

“We just think you two could work.”

Looking between them, he sighs, feeling his resolve wearing thin, and a little voice at the back of his head--the same voice that pushed him to open up to that radio therapist, the same voice that made him admit that maybe in the future he could see himself in a relationship again, that same voice that told him that he was too reliant on Belle and Ruby and that he didn’t want to ever grow to be a burden or a roadblock for his son--told him that maybe he could go to dinner with this person, maybe he could like her, maybe he could even love her.

And if not her, someone.

“So… this Emily…”

“Emma.”

“Right,” he sighs, stepping around them and reaching for an apple. “Tell me about her.”

“Okay,” they say together.

“She’s… very independent.”

“Yeah, her parents died when she was little. She grew up in the system and now she’s a cop,” Ruby explains.

“She just got out of a long-term relationship and--”

“Why did it end?”

Ruby’s eyes roll. “First of all, his name was Walsh--”

“He was a trust fund baby,” Belle explains. “They were just… not compatible.”

“Not compatible--” he repeats, his eyes narrowing. “Why is that?”

“She likes her own space. She’s not the clingy type. She’s not very domestic--”

“She’s a grilled cheese and tomato soup kind of girl and he was--”

“--the type of person who orders eel.”

For some reason, that makes him grin.

“She likes… adventure-type stories.”

Belle laughs as she looks to Ruby. “What she means is she’s a Hemingway fan--”

“As am I.”

“She’s always looked for a family to join--”

“--and I am a family man.”

“She likes beer and going to breweries, and she loves a good hike--”

Drawing in a breath, he feels his heart beating faster and faster while his stomach churns. “Fine.”

“Fine--”

“I’ll… let you set me up.”

Their eyes widen as they exchange excited looks. He shakes his head when one of them lets out a little squeal and he laughs when they both rush toward him for a hug--and then, just as his stomach starts to settle, Belle reveals that she’s already made reservations for the following night at a little Italian place that she and Ruby frequent.

And then, as they start to tell him about the tiramisu, he comes to the realization that the following day is Valentine’s Day, the absolute worst day of the year for a blind date, and he can’t help but think it’s some sort of omen.

_____

February 13, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

Regina stares into her closet, trying to figure out what dress she’ll wear the following evening for her dinner date with Daniel, and of course, everything that hangs in her closet seems all wrong.

She sighs as she turns back to the bed, sitting down and flopping back, staring down at the ceiling and wishing at the start of the school year, she’d signed up to chaperone the Valentine’s party at Henry’s school because had she done that, she wouldn’t have to go to dinner with Daniel--and then, as soon as she thinks that, she chides herself for being such a terrible person.

It isn’t Daniel’s company that she wants to avoid; it’s simply the holiday.

First, she’d never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. To her, it was made up holiday meant to sell cards and boost floral sales in the middle of winter, nothing something really worth celebrating. Of course, when she was married to Leopold, he always made a big show of Valentine’s Day; but, really, it was just that--a show. He’d send her candy and flowers and everyone in her office would tell her how lucky she was. Then, he’d take her out to some expensive restaurant and show her off, like she was some sort of trophy.

Daniel wasn’t Leopold, though; in fact, Daniel was the exact opposite of her ex, and if he were to send her something at work or take her out that evening, the gestures would be sincere.

But that was what she was afraid of.

Ever since she found the receipt from the jeweler, she’d be waiting for him to propose. But they’d gotten through Christmas and then through the new year, and still, he hadn’t asked--and for a few weeks, she relaxed and stopped worry about it. Then, he’d asked her out for Valentine’s Day and her worries came flooding back to her.

In her head, she tried to work out a response, but no matter what, she couldn’t seem to come up with one. Her feelings about the whole thing were murky at best--and sometimes when she thought about it, she thought about what it’d be like to say yes. It’d be easier, and it wasn’t like she wouldn’t be happy with him. She and Daniel could build a life together that was based on companionship and respect. They could raise Henry together and join an equestrian club, they could have family dinners and plan vacations, they could have a life that she knew many women in her former social circle would envy. They might not have passion, but maybe, they had something better than that.

That, of course, led her to another set of questions--questions she’d never actually find answers to. She wondered if somewhere along the line she’d resent the lack of passion she felt, and she wondered where that resentment might lead. She didn't like to go there and she rarely allowed her thoughts to wander down that path, but when she did, she didn’t like what she saw and she didn’t like her person she was. So, in the end, she wondered if saying no was really the best option for both of them, wondering if it would hurt less to turn him down now rather than after years of complacency in marriage.

Two nights before, Mal and Lily came over for dinner, and while Lily and Henry played Zelda in the living room, she and Mal sat down at the kitchen table and they’d made a list of pros and cons. Mal rolled her eyes at the notion, telling her that matters of the heart couldn’t be resolved by taking notes, but she ignored her and insisted--then, by the end of it, she was no better off than she was before. She had no new solutions, no new insights and was still just as confused as ever.

Rolling over, she turns on the radio--and when she hears The Best of Doctor Hopper playing, she holds her breath and waits.

She smiles at the sound of the now-familiar voice and she can practically recite the little speech he gave about the first time he met his wife, and still, it strikes her that he knew they were meant to be together based on one fleeting touch.

“Uh, mom?”

Gasping, she sits up, looking at Henry with wide eyes as if he’s caught her doing something she shouldn’t be doing. “Henry, is… is everything okay?”

“I can’t sleep,” he says, shrugging as he comes into the room. “I saw your light was still on.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I was just trying to pick out a dress for tomorrow.”

“Oh…”

“Wanna help?” Grinning, Henry nods and crosses the room to the bed, hoisting himself up to sit beside her then, for a moment, they both just stare into the closet. “So, what do you think? Which dress do you like?”

“You should wear the red one.”

“The red one? Why?”

Henry blinks. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day and that’s the color you’re supposed to wear.”

Regina’s brows arch. “That was… easy.”

“Some things aren’t hard,” Henry says, shrugging and leaning into her side. “Lily said she and I are going to eat so much candy tomorrow, we’re going to puke.”

“And you’re looking forward to this?”

“Not the puking part, but… yeah, I’m looking forward to the candy.” Henry pauses for a moment, looking up at her before looking to the radio. “You listen to this a lot.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I, um… I like this program.”

“You like this episode. You always listen to the same one.”

“Oh… well…”

“He has a nice voice.”

“Who does?”

“The man who really loves his wife.”

“Oh.. yeah… he, um, he does,” she murmurs, feeling an odd stirring in her chest as she leans in to press a kiss to Henry’s hair. “He sounds… nice.”

“He does,” Henry agrees. “I hope he finds someone.”

At that, her brows arch and she pulls herself back a little so that she can look at Henry. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Henry says simply. “Maybe then, he wouldn’t be so sad.”

“It’s not easy, you know… finding someone.”

“I know,” Henry murmurs. “Sometimes, it doesn't work out. Like how it didn’t work with you and dad. But, sometimes, it does.”

“That's… awfully deep for a ten year old.”

Henry nods. “That’s what the radio therapist said in his last episode.”

“You… listen to this program?”

Henry shrugs and leans back into her. “You listen to it so much, I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“And what did you think of it?” she asks, laughing softly at the notion of her precious fifth grader listening to a radio therapist counsel adults on love.

“I think you should listen to more episodes.”

Again, she laughs as she presses another kiss to Henry’s head. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Maybe I should.”

[downeystarkjr]

Lost Stars - Cursed Killian AU - Chapter 6

Summary: Killian and Emma finally have their happy ending and are looking forward to their future together. However, fate has other plans and decides Killian needs to pay the price for returning from the Underworld by being sent 5 years back in time to New York with a new life and new memories and a new love. With no memory of Emma or who he really is. Killian and Emma’s True Love is put to the test when they cross paths once more as The Saviour does all she can to bring her pirate back. If things weren’t bad enough, Emma and the other heroes have to deal with the arrival of The Flying Dutchman to the Storybrooke docks, the captain of which is on the hunt for the infamous Captain Hook…

Rating: M

Content/Triggers: Cursed Killian, fluff, angst, whump, nightmares

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Full story on AO3 here

Chapter 6

“Swan?” the pirate called from in front of the bedroom door after going upstairs. “Love, are you in there?” he asked, slowly reaching out to hold the door handle.

As if Emma knew what Killian was going to do, she rushed over to their bedroom door, placing her hands on it as an attempt to keep it closed. “Killian, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on your ship,” she questioned in a light tone rather than worried. “If my parents knew you were here before our wedding,” she added with a smirk, teasing her pirate before he interrupted her in an equally light-hearted tone of voice.

“Well they’re not here love, it’s just you and me,” Killian chuckled, figuring Emma was holding the door handle to make sure it stayed closed with how difficult it was to turn.

“Easy there, tiger, a man of honour wouldn’t barge right into a woman’s bedroom,” Emma joked, doing her best not to laugh but failed almost instantly. She wanted to see Killian and enjoy the comfort of being in the embrace of his loving arms, not looking forward to spending the night alone and waking up without him asleep by her side in their bed. However, she didn’t want to risk anything going wrong for their wedding, as superstitious as that sounded. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, Jones.”

“You don’t have to worry about that Emma, we’ve had our fair share of bad luck and we’ve overcome all of it,” Killian reminded, placing his  palm and forehead against the door, his bride doing the same on the other side. What more could possibly happen to them to stop them from getting married? “I just needed to be near you Swan…just open the door…” he uttered quietly, encouraging his love.

Emma bit her lip hesitantly, a part of her wanted to throw away the rulebook and allow her dear groom into their bedroom. “Hold on, I’ll open the door but we can’t see each other, not until tomorrow,” she explained, coming up with a loophole around the rule.

Killian raised an eyebrow, moving his head away from the door as Emma began to finally open it. He had an idea about what Emma was thinking and saw he was proven right when the door was opened just enough for her to reach her arm out towards him.

“Only a few hours remain before I can call you my Lady Jones,” Killian gently took Emma’s hand in his own, softly placing a tender kiss to the back of it which caused yet another loving smile to break out on the Saviour’s face.

“And you, my pirate prince,” she replied affectionately, squeezing her husband-to-be’s one hand. Emma was filled with uncontrollable excitement for her marriage to Killian and his reaction to seeing her in the wedding dress she chose. “I love you Killian.”

“I love you too Swan, my love for you grows each day I’m with you.”

“You always have been good with words Captain,” Emma was relieved there was a door between them because she was able to hide the wild blush covering her cheeks. How did she get so lucky to find a man like Killian? A man who knew her better than anyone and could make her smile and blush with just a few words and through his loving actions. And she was getting married to him.  

The wedding day finally arrived. Despite not liking the loneliness of waking up without the other, Killian and Emma had awoken early that morning out of excitement for the day’s events. Couples often felt nerves or cold feet the day of their wedding, but not the Saviour and the Captain. How could they be nervous when they both knew marriage was what they wanted?

Killian was dressed and ready waiting on the top deck of his ship with Henry. The guests were due to arrive soon, before the bride was to make her appearance to the wedding. Meanwhile, Emma was with her mother as Snow applied the finishing touches to her daughter’s hair and makeup.

“Oh honey,” the older of the two smile tearfully, taking in Emma’s appearance after Elsa gave the bride the bridal bouquet of flowers. “You and Killian are going to be so happy together.”

Emma gave her mother a hug, careful of the delicate wedding gown. “I know mom, and I’m glad you and dad are here to witness this.” After spending twenty eight years struggling with life alone as an orphan surrounded by people who never failed to let her down, Emma found her son, her parents and the man she loved and saw a future with.

“Is that really my daughter?” David gasped in surprise at the sight of his beloved first born when he walked into the room. He had never seen Emma in her wedding dress before. She was all grown up and ready to become a wife that very day. “You know it’s not too late to cancel the wedding right?” Prince Charming joked and hugged Emma. Killian had grown on him during the pirate and Emma’s relationship. David saw how much the two loved each other and showed no reluctance in giving Killian his blessing to the marriage.

“Dad, come on, I’m in my wedding dress, I’m not calling it off,” Emma chuckled, picking up on her father’s joke as she hugged back.

“As long as you’re sure, we should start heading over to the ship,” David suggested, gently cupping his daughter’s cheek, proud of Emma that she had allowed herself to open up to love.

When Emma arrived at the docks with her father, she could hear the music playing as they neared the Jolly Roger. Killian was at the altar, seeing how all the guests invited had shown up and took their seats for the wedding to begin.

“She’s coming, good luck Killian,” Henry said to his step-father to be when he noticed the bridal party approaching the ship while the violinists started to play the music to match with the procession as one by one, Elsa, Ruby, Regina and Snow, carrying baby Neal, walked down the aisle. After, the music changed to the tune of ‘Here Comes the Bride’ and it was finally time for Emma to walk down the aisle arm in arm with her father. She hoped Killian would choose to turn round and look at her while she glided down the short distance to her True Love and beamed with happiness when she saw he couldn’t take his eyes off her. It made Emma chuckle softly to herself noticing how stunned and filled with adoration her pirate was gazing at his bride.

Killian was head over heels in love with Emma, and if it was even possible, seeing how perfectly beautiful Emma appeared made him fall deeper in love.

“Swan…you look beautiful,” he mouthed to her while Henry glanced between the two as he held the rings.

“Thank you,” Emma mouthed back, Killian’s words warmed her heart. His reaction was what she could have hoped for, seeing him smiling at her with awe. She saw how Killian’s attire shared similarities with what he wore during their first dance and had to admit he looked incredible and was not surprised Killian did not choose to sport a modern world tuxedo.

“Now I know why you did your best to stop me seeing the dress,” the pirate whispered to his bride when she approached by his side and as David went to sit down by Snow. “Are you ready love?”

“I’m glad I didn’t sneak a glimpse of your suit when I heard Blue had it,” Emma responded back in a whisper so only Killian could hear. “Of course, never been more ready,” she grinned widely and nodded for the ceremony to begin.

After the guests being welcomed to the wedding, it was time for the bride and groom to read out their vows to one another. Emma turned to glance up to look adoringly in Killian’s ocean blue eyes, holding both his hand and hook. “Killian, it’s no secret that things weren’t easy for me growing up, and as a result I put up my walls so that I wouldn’t get hurt. But then you came along and changed all that, although I did make it a challenge for you,” she paused to laugh, seeing Killian chuckle in recollection of  how difficult had been to get Emma to accept her feelings for him.

“I’ve never met anyone so persistent in getting  to know who I am behind my walls, who would do anything for me, including giving up your home and everything you owned just to find me. No one has ever loved me like that, and, Killian, I love you so much more than you can imagine,” Emma continued, pouring out her heart to Killian as she expressed her vows, looking nowhere but in his eyes. “You’ve always been there for me and I know you’re incapable of letting me down. Today I give you my love, my heart and lifelong devotion. With you, I’ve found my kindred spirit, my best friend, my husband, my True Love.” The Saviour finished, blinking away the tears welling up in her eyes. Tears that Killian was quick to carefully wipe away without smudging her make up, which she was thankful was waterproof.

The Charmings watched their daughter read out her vows, knowing how difficult it was for her to let her feelings be known to anyone. Snow squeezed her husband’s hand with her head rested against his shoulder at the mention of True Love.

“Love was always something I constantly lost, and I stopped believing in my own happy ending and that love was possible for me. Instead, I went after my revenge,” Killian started to tell Emma his vows, speaking from his heart. “However, it was only when I started to get to know you that I allowed myself to accept the feelings I had for you, feelings that quickly changed to love with our first kiss,” he smiled fondly. “I knew back then that you were the one I wanted, the one I needed.” While Killian said his vows, he continued to hold Emma’s hand, stroking it gently with his thumb.

“You’re the reason I’m the man I am today, my Saviour… I wanted to be someone who you deserved and you were enough to help me fight my inner darkness that loomed over my heart and villainous past,” the pirate continued, honestly seeing Emma as the cause of him changing from villain to a hero. “Emma, you’re the only future I want and there is nothing more important to me than your happiness. And I’m honoured that I make up a part of that happiness, and that we’re about to become husband and wife,” Killian couldn’t believe he was actually marrying the love of his life on his ship beneath the sunlit sky over the peaceful ocean. “You’re where I belong, my darling Swan. My Emma, my happy ending .”

Hearing Killian say those words melted Emma’s heart. He was the only one who ever said those words to her, the only one who made her truly feel special. That had never happened before she and Killian became girlfriend and boyfriend. When two said their ‘I do’s’ and exchanged rings, Killian didn’t waste any time after hearing “You may now kiss the bride.”

“At bloody last,” he smirked and leaned forward, pulling Emma closer to him by the waist and kissed her lips passionately. The pirate felt his wife kiss back with an equal amount of love, his hands stroking up her back while Emma’s fingers explored his brown hair. The newlyweds were making the most of the kiss, not really noticing the sound of applause from the guests. “I love you Emma Jones.”

“I love you more, my Killian Jones,” Emma replied sweetly, mumbling against her husband’s lips before kissing him further. They were married. The two people who had previously disregarded the possibility of a happy ending let alone marriage. “Shall we go to our reception?” she asked, gesturing a little with her head to the wedding guests who were waiting for the Jones couple to leave first out of wedding etiquette.

“Do you really think that’s possible? With how much I love you?” the pirate countered in playful banter with Emma and nodded, agreeing with her suggestion. “Aye of course,” he added and wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist, leading her back down the aisle to get off the ship.

“We could do this all day,” Emma laughed, referring to the light-hearted debate. She laughed more when Killian lifted her up in his arms bridal style until they approached the docks.

“That really is the most perfect dress love, you look more beautiful than I’ve ever seen and you’re naturally the most gorgeous woman I’ve met,” Killian was honest with his compliment as he lowered Emma back down to her feet, careful of her detailed wedding gown and cape.

However, before Emma could respond, the ground beneath them shook harshly. What was happening now? Couldn’t she have one day of happiness to enjoy with her True Love without needing to deal with a crisis?

“Bloody hell…”

“What was that?” the newlywed woman questioned with wide eyes and looked around her. Even the other inhabitants of Storybrooke were startled by what they assumed to be an earthquake. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it. It was only when Killian tugged at her hand, trying to keep her near him that the Saviour saw a cloud of smoke surround her husband. “Killian! What’s happening?!” she cried with worry.

“I don’t know Swan, just don’t let go!” Killian shouted over the loud breeze as he tried to fight the cloud of smoke that was attempting to pull the husband and wife couple apart.

“I won’t Killian, I promise!” Emma vowed, a few tears running down her cheeks when she realised what was about to happen. “Whatever is going on, I’ll fix it I swear, I’ll always find you!” She gave Killian her word in their weddings vows that she was never going to give up on him.

“I know you will, I believe in you Swan,” Killian replied, doing his best to continue to hold onto Emma. Trying to remain strong to assure his wife that everything was going to be alright despite not seeiming that way right now. “I love you,” he reminded and managed to kiss Emma’s lips one last time before the cloud of smoke forced the two to let go of one another.

“Killian!” Emma let out a heartbroken yell, the last thing the pirate heard from her as the smoke enveloped him, taking him away in a flash of thunder. Away from Storybrooke.

Away from Emma.

Tagging a few users who might like the story. I’d love to know what you think! @yayimallamaagain @phiralovesloki @lenfaz @flipperbrain@cocohook38@hollyethecurious@winterbaby89@xhookswenchx@teamhook@resident-of-storybrooke@fairytalesandtimetravel@aye-captn@captainswanbookclub@captainswanbigbang@goldengirlschildhood@themilahskillybear@the-corsair-and-her-quill @clockadile@wellhellotragic @killian-whump@blittrellzsouthernangel@yayimallamaagain@sherlockianwhovian@snowbellewells

@hollyethecurious @winterbaby89

[sydneysageivashkov]

So @gremma-appreciation reblogged this fic and I felt guilty because I promised a sequel for the appreciation day and I still haven’t finished it, so here is what I have got:

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Emma startles, knocking paperwork flying. She looks up at Hook, who drops into the seat on the opposite side of her desk, looking at her expectantly.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” she denies instinctively. She still doesn’t know how to explain to Hook – how to explain to anyone – her decision. It would be so easy for someone to dismiss her as a lovesick girl avoiding her responsibilities as Savior for a man. And Graham is a part of her decision, yes – but so is everyone else who survived to the new timeline. So is Joanna, who takes care of baby Neal and helped to raise Snow. So are dozens of others who Emma doesn’t know quite so well, who survived Zelena but didn’t survive Regina.

Hook raises his eyebrow. “Is it because I know about what Zelena did, and no one else does?”

“No one?” double-checks Emma. She hasn’t noticed anyone else acting odd, but who knows? She’s had a lot on her plate lately.

“No one,” confirms Hook. “As far as I know, at least. But surely they would have approached you or the sheriff by now if there was anyone.” Emma feels herself slump with relief. No one else knows. No one else to pressure her to change the timeline back, no one else to try to change it without her.

Hook’s still looking at her, expression calculating. She stares back at him evenly. She’s made her decision. He won’t sway her from it.

“I can understand it,” he says at last. “If there was any way I could have Milah back with me, I would take it without a second thought.”

“It isn’t just Graham,” she says firmly. “There are dozens of reasons. Dozens of people.”

Hook nods. “Aye, I can see that, too. But not everyone might see it that way.”

The door to the station opens and Emma glances up. It’s Graham, box of doughnuts in his hands and keys dangling from his fingers. He looks a little surprised at the sight of Hook, but doesn’t comment on it as he drops the box on to Emma’s desk and kisses her forehead quickly.

“As I was saying,” says Hook, loudly. Emma rolls her eyes at him. Apparently understanding doesn’t mean the jealously has dissipated. “I heard from the Merry Men that there was a portal out in the woods. There might be some unpleasant visitors soon.” He’s been looking between Emma and Graham as he spoke, but now he looks directly at Emma. “Looks like the happy ending is over.”

Emma feels her heart constrict a little. It could be anyone. It could be any storybook villain. Hell, it could even be someone she had never heard of before. Surely there was somewhere in the multiverse that hadn’t become a story in this world.

But she can’t shake the horrible feeling that the portal was from Oz.

And, well. With Zelena happily installed as Evil Queen of the Enchanted Forest, there was only one person who could be coming from Oz.

-

“See anything?” asks Graham. He has both hands on his gun, scanning the forest surrounding them.

“Nope,” she calls back. “David?”

David jogs over, shaking his head. “Whoever it was, they’ve covered their tracks. We’re lucky that Tuck saw the portal open, or we probably would never have known.”

“They’re probably familiar with travelling in the woods, then,” notes Graham. “They could still be hiding out here now for all we know.”

“Or they could have used magic to conceal their path,” suggests Emma. She wants Graham to be right. She really wants Graham to be right. But she had to be prepared for the possibility that Regina has returned to Storybrooke.

It makes sense. She can definitely see Zelena, petty and vindictive as she is, leaving Regina with full memory of the original timeline so that Regina knows exactly what she is missing out on. But Regina survived as long as she did for a reason. She always manages to wriggle out of seemingly impossible scenarios, be it through a daring rescue by one of her allies, her own magical power, or using someone’s goodness against them.

She wants Regina as far away from Graham as possible. She wants Regina as far away from Henry as possible. She wants her entire family to be safe from Regina and all the horrors that Regina once put them through. She wants both Evil Queens gone.

“If they’re capable of using portals, then the chances are they’re also capable of wielding magic,” agrees Graham.

“If they’re the one to create the portal,” points out David. “They could have paid someone off. We just don’t know.”

David’s right. They don’t know. Emma has absolutely no idea who came through that portal, just a terrible sinking feeling that it’s Regina.

“Are you okay?” asks Graham, putting a hand on her arm. David shifts to look at her, expression concerned.

Emma forces a smile. “Peachy.”

-

Graham’s still worried at dinner time. Henry is, too. Henry had taken one glance at her, and then exchanged a very long look with Graham, before he had started chattering happily away at a mile a minute. Graham contributed, too, after spending almost the entire day together, he didn’t have so many stories to contribute.

Her boys almost succeeded. Emma felt lighter than she had all day, but sometimes as she looked at them both, she couldn’t help the stray thought: I could lose this.

Emma can deal with Zelena. She had been able to deal with Regina. But she had never confronted either of them at the height of their villainy, and based off what she knows about why Regina turned on Snow – well, Regina is not going to react well to Emma choosing Graham and the others over her.

“Dishes?” says Graham, looking at Henry. The two stand with a clatter, and Henry steals Emma’s plate before she can do the same.

“We’ll do it,” Henry reassures her. “Go sit down.” Graham looks amused but nods when Emma looks to him.

Honestly, she thinks, with fond exasperation. She follows Henry’s orders anyway, because she’s learnt better than to get in Henry’s way when he thinks he’s taking care of her, especially when Graham is backing him up. (A voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother’s points out that when they’re both trying to take care of her, then they probably have a good reason.)

She curls up in front of the television, listening to her fiancé and son in the kitchen rather than watching it. Henry’s merrily chattering away and earning laughter from Graham occasionally. Emma smiles at the sound of Henry exploding into laughter at something Graham says and wonders if she’s going to have to break up a water fight soon.

And then all sound cuts off. Emma jumps to her feet, looking around. She can see Henry and Graham through the doorway, Graham washing the plates and Henry drying them. Their mouths are still moving, and they don’t seem to have noticed anything is wrong.

Emma feels herself go very cold.

“So this is what you abandoned me for,” says Regina, and Emma spins to see her in the corner of the room, examining her nails. “A pretty, domestic life with my son and my Huntsman.”

Emma can see bait when she sees it, but she bristles anyway. “They’re not yours,” she snarls. Especially not Graham. Emma can see how Regina lays her claim to Henry, even if Emma hates it: but Regina has nothing on Graham, nothing.

“It seems the best you can do if picking up my scraps,” muses Regina.

Emma doesn’t think, just raises her hand and pushes. The magic swirls out from her fingers and slams Regina back against the wall. “They’re no one’s scraps,” she hisses. “They’re people – beautiful, wonderful people.” Regina pushes herself back to her feet, movements slow and painful. Her eyes flit to something behind Emma, and she smirks.

Emma doesn’t risk glancing around, but then she hears Graham demand, “Who are you and what are you doing here?” Henry appears by Emma’s side, peering at Regina with a mixture of curiosity and worry. Emma realises, distantly, that whatever spell Regina cast must have been one way, and that Graham and Henry must have heard Regina being thrown against the wall.

Emma pushes Henry behind her; she doesn’t think Regina would try to physically harm Henry, but she isn’t willing to take any risks.

“A better question would be what you’re doing here, pet,” says Regina, her voice silky. Her eyes slide over to Emma on the last word: the term isn’t going to have any effect on Graham, not without his memories of the other timeline, but Regina knows it’s enough to get under Emma’s skin.

“Get out,” snarls Emma. “Get out of my house.”

“Touchy,” titters Regina. Emma starts to lift her hand again, and then – gone. Regina’s gone, just a quick spell then poof!

“Who was she?” asks Henry. Graham meets Emma’s gaze over his head, expression worried. “Is she a villain?”

“Probably,” says Emma. The panic is beginning to recede and she grasps for a plan. “Call my parents and tell them to come here,” she tells Graham. “They’ll need to know.”

“Who are you calling?” asks Graham, as she starts to search her bag for her cell.

Emma pulls it out and turns the screen on. “Hook.”

-

Hook is the last to arrive, and he raises his eyebrows at the sight of the impromptu war council arranged in the living room. “Never thought I’d see the day when I was invited to one of these,” he mutters, gingerly taking a seat next to David.

“Regina was here,” she tells him, and his eyes shoot up to look at her.

“Well, then,” he says, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms. “I can see the need.”

“What’s going on?” breaks in Snow. “Who’s Regina?”

Emma bites back a bitter smile. Irony was proving to be one of her closest companions in this timeline. “A month ago, I drank some of the water from the wishing well, and it restored something to me. Memories,” she explains. “Memories of another timeline that Zelena changed into this one. In the original timeline, Zelena was abandoned by Cora as a baby, and Cora’s second child became the Evil Queen.”

“And Regina is that Evil Queen?” asks David. “She knows?”

Emma nods. “Zelena would have placed Regina in the life she lived before the change, but left Regina with all her memories, so she would know what she had lost,” she says. “I guess Zelena didn’t account for how crafty Regina can be.”

David places his arm on the table and exhales, eyebrows raised. “Two Evil Queens,” he says. “Can’t we ever have a break?”

“Regina is very cunning, and spent a long time under Rumplestiltskin’s tutelage,” says Hook. “And more over, she knows all of you, while only Emma and I know her. You all have to be on your guard.”

Graham studies Hook. “You remember, too. For how long?”

Hook shrugs. “About the same amount of time as Swan, far as I can tell,” he says. “She knew when I first approached her about it. Thought she might want to change it back, being the Savior and all.”

All eyes turn to Emma and she shifts awkwardly under their scrutiny. “As awful as Zelena can be, she was never as terrible as Regina at the height of her terror. There are dozens of people alive today that wouldn’t be otherwise because I made that decision.”

“Including me,” realises Graham. “She said that what I was doing here should be the question, not what she was doing here,” he explains to David and Snow, but his eyes are still on her.

Emma swallows. “Including you,” she echoes.

There’s a heavy silence around the table as everyone evaluates this. Graham and Emma keep staring at each other. She can’t tell how he feels. She certainly doesn’t know how she would feel if she was told she was dead in the original timeline.

She hopes Henry isn’t listening outside the door. It would be a terrible thing for a child to learn, that the closest thing he has to a father had been murdered in another timeline by the woman who would have been his adoptive mother.

Finally, Graham clears his throat. “We should keep planning,” he says. Emma watches him carefully, but his expression is firm. His death is something they can talk about later; right now, they have to prepare.

“Okay,” says Emma. “Regina’s come back to Storybrooke to discover that I have no plan in restoring the timeline. She’s angry and is going to lash out at me – through the three of you, most likely.” That is aimed at Graham and her parents.

“Not Henry?” checks Snow.

Emma hesitates. “She won’t intentionally harm him – physically,” she adds, thinking of the hurting boy she had first met. “He could be collateral damage, though.” Collateral damage, she thinks, disgusted. But it would hardly be the first time she had endangered him while targeting someone else. While targeting Emma.

Three hours later, their home is once again empty. Emma finds Graham standing in the door to Henry’s bedroom, watching him sleep. He’s curled up into a ball, clutching a pillow. Henry’s definitely sleeping, then – when he fakes it, he always is stretched out.

Emma slides in next to Graham and wraps her arms around him. “Are you okay?” she whispers.

Graham rests his head on her shoulder. “Not sure,” he replies. “I keep looking at Henry and thinking, ‘I could have missed this’.”

Emma closes her eyes and squeezes him. He had missed this, once. “You’re here now,” she says. “I’m not going to let her take you again.” She pulls back slightly so she can rest her hand on his chest, feeling the comforting thump-thump-thump that’s been there ever since they stole the hearts back just after the Curse broke.

Graham breathes in deeply. “Was she like Zelena?”

Emma feels her heart drop at the thought. Graham never deserved what they did to him, but no one ever does. “Yes.”

“Except Regina decided to kill me,” Graham mutters, “while Zelena thought she could keep me enslaved. I don’t know which of them is worse.”

Emma wishes she had an answer for him. His heart keeps beating under her hand. “You’re here with me now,” she says, hoping it was the right thing.

Graham pulls her back into a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and prays they can stop Regina before she can do any more damage.

[networkingdefinition]

Clovers Quotes

Official Website: Clovers Quotes

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• A silence, the brief Sabbath of an hour, Reigns o’er the fields; the laborer sits within His dwelling; he has left his steers awhile, Unyoked, to bite the herbage, and his dog Sleeps stretched beside the door-stone in the shade. Now the gray marmot, with uplifted paws, No more sits listening by his den, but steals Abroad, in safety, to the clover-field, And crops its juicy-blossoms. – William C. Bryant • April Rain It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on the hills. The clouds of gray engulf the day And overwhelm the town; It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining roses down. It is not raining rain to me, But fields of clover bloom, Where any buccaneering bee May find a bed and room. A health unto the happy! A fig for him who frets!- It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining violets. – Robert Loveman • At home the great delight is to see the clover and grass now growing on places that were bare when we came. These small healings of the ground are my model accomplishment-everything else I do must aspire to that. While I was at that work the world gained with every move I made, and I harmed nothing. – Wendell Berry

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Clover', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_clover').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_clover img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Because I liked you better Than suits a man to say, It irked you, and I promised I’d throw the thought away. To put the world between us We parted stiff and dry: ‘Farewell,’ said you, ‘forget me.’ ‘Fare well, I will,’ said I. If e’er, where clover whitens The dead man’s knoll, you pass, And no tall flower to meet you Starts in the trefoiled grass, Halt by the headstone shading The heart you have not stirred, And say the lad that loved you Was one that kept his word. – A. E. Housman • Believing there’s no such thing as luck is very unlucky. Like, the worst. Beyond stealing someone’s lucky four-leaf clover. – Caprice Crane • Clover secretly hitched a ride with a nice German couple and their new baby…Clover appeared to the baby, so as to be a delightful, soothing surprise. Well, the child did like Clover. In fact, she held him and cooed. When the parents turned around to look at her and saw their child holding a furry, living creature, they needlessly panicked. – Obert Skye • Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal. – George Orwell • Commemorative stone in the floor of the Chapel of St. George in Westminster Abbey, London, dedicated in 1947: TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT Baden-Powell CHIEF SCOUT OF THE WORLD 1857-1941 Upon one side of the stone was the badge of the Boy Scouts, the arrow-head to point the true way as it had pointed the way for sailors and navigators from the time of the earliest maps; and on the other the badge of the Girl Guides-the three-leafed clover. – Robert Baden-Powell • Crowds of bees are giddy with clover Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet, Crowds of larks at their matins hang over, Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet. – Jean Ingelow • Green clovers. Blue diamonds. Orange Stars. Pink hearts. Purple horseshoes. Man, I never know if I’m looking at a bowl of cereal or having another acid flashback. – David Henry • Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And the Queen Anne’s Lace. – Edna St. Vincent Millay • His Labor is a Chant – His Idleness -a Tune – Oh, for a Bee’s experience Of Clovers, and of Noon! – Emily Dickinson • I found it.” “People find pennies,” Gansey replied. “Or car keys. Or four-leaf clovers.” “And ravens,” Ronan said. “You’re just jealous ’cause” – at this point, he had to stop to regroup his beer-sluggish thoughts – “you didn’t find one, too. – Maggie Stiefvater • I love discovering new young brands and watching these fashion lines take off, like Peter Pilotto, Christopher Kane, and Clover Canyon. – Gillian Jacobs • I noticed that all the prayers I used to offer to God, and all the prayers I now offer to Joe Pesci, are being answered at about the same 50% rate. Half the time I get what I want, half the time I don’t… Same as the four-leaf clover and the horseshoe…same as the Voodoo Lady who tells you your fortune by squeezing the goat’s testicles, it’s all the same: 50-50. So just pick your superstition, sit back, make a wish, and enjoy yourself. – George Carlin • I was in a vintage pub rock band called Clover in the 1970s. – Huey Lewis • I was talking to a Zen master the other day and he said, “You shall be my disciple.”I looked at him and said, “Who was Buddha’s teacher?” He looked at me in a very odd way for a moment and then he burst into laughter and handed me a piece of clover. – Alan Watts • If a man who can’t count finds a four leaf clover, is he lucky? – Stanislaw Lem • If a man who cannot count finds a four-leaf clover, is he entitled to happiness? – Stanislaw Jerzy Lec • If you meet a cross-eyed person you must plunge into the grass, alongside the chilly ants, fish through the green fingernails and come up with the four-leaf clover. – Anne Sexton • If you work, if you wait, you will find the place where the four-leaf clovers grow. – Ella Higginson • I’ll toss my coins in the fountain, Look for clovers in grassy lawns Search for shooting stars in the night Cross my fingers and dream on. – Tracy Chapman • I’m feeling lucky like a four-leaf clover – Jennifer Lopez • In New Mexico, he always awoke a young man, not until he arose and began to shave did he realize that he was growing older. His first consciousness was a sense of the light dry wind blowing in through the windows, with the fragrance of hot sun and sage-brush and sweet clover; a wind that made one’s body feel light and one’s heart cry ‘To-day, to-day,’ like a child’s. – Willa Cather • In the dark of the moon, in flying snow, in the dead of winter, war spreading, families dying, the world in danger, I walk the rocky hillside, sowing clover. – Wendell Berry • Into the air, over the valleys, under the stars, above a river, a pond, a road, flew Cecy. Invisible as new spring winds, fresh as the breath of clover rising from twilight fields, she flew. – Ray Bradbury • Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest place, and finally squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; there she purred contentedly throughout Major’s speech without listening to a word of what he was saying. – George Orwell • Let you hold in mind, girls, that your beauty must pass Like a lovely white clover that rusts with its grass. Keep your bottoms off barstools and marry you young Or be left–an old barrel with many a bung. – X. J. Kennedy • Listen,’ Clover said. ‘Don’t worry about not being able to come back, I’ve lived both places, and trust me, you won’t be getting the short end of the stick if you end up in Foo. I mean, candy alone. – Obert Skye • Love is as bitter as the dregs of sin, As sweet as clover-honey in its cell; Love is the password whereby souls get in To Heaven–the gate that leads, sometimes, to Hell. – Ella Wheeler Wilcox • Many books belong to sunshine, and should be read out of doors. Clover, violets, and hedge roses breathe from their leaves; they are most lovable in cool lanes, along field paths, or upon stiles overhung by hawthorn, while the blackbird pipes, and the nightingale bathes its brown feathers in the twilight copse. – Robert Aris Willmott • No cop was ever born who wasn’t a sucker for a finely-executed high-speed Controlled Drift all the way around one of those clover-leaf freeway interchanges. – Hunter S. Thompson • Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers and laid entwined together on a bed of clover and left there to sleep, left there to dream of their happiness. – Conor Oberst • Oak, granite, Lilies by the road, Remember me? I remember you. Clouds brushing Clover hills, Remember me? Sister, child, Grown tall, Remember me? I remember you. – Gail Carson Levine • On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net. – Czeslaw Milosz • One June evening, when the orchards were pink-blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes about the head of the Lake of Shining Waters, and the air was full of the savor of clover fields and balsamic fir woods, Anne was sitting by her gable window. She had been studying her lessons, but it had grown too dark to see the book, so she had fallen into wide-eyed reverie, looking out past the boughs of the Snow Queen, once more bestarred with its tufts of blossom. – Lucy Maud Montgomery • Peaches grow wild, and pigs can live in clover; A barrel of salted herrings lasts a year; The spring begins before the winter’s over. – Elinor Wylie • Straw mulch, a ground cover of white clover interplanted with the crops, and temporary flooding all provide effective weed control in my fields. – Masanobu Fukuoka • The answer to this riddle has a hole in the middle, And some have been known to fall in it. In tennis it’s nothing, but it can be received, And sometimes a person may win it. Though not seen or heard it may be perceived, Like princes or bees it’s in clover. The answer to this riddle has a hole in the middle, And without it one cannot start over. – Trenton Lee Stewart • The dandelions and buttercups gild all the lawn: the drowsy bee stumbles among the clover tops, and summer sweetens all to me. – James Russell Lowell • The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs, Losing both beauty and utility. – William Shakespeare • The fears of what may come to pass, I cast them all away, Among the clover scented grass, Among the new-mown hay. – Louise Imogen Guiney • The peace of great books be for you, Stains of pressed clover leaves on pages, Bleach of the light of years held in leather. – Carl Sandburg • The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy. – Emily Dickinson • The reason so many people never get anywhere in life is because when opportunity knocks, they are out in the backyard looking for four-leaf clovers. – Walter Chrysler • The shamrock is a religious symbol. St. Patrick said the leaves represented the trinity: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. That’s why four leaf clovers are so lucky, you get a bonus Jesus. – Stephen Colbert • The sweetness of life lies in usefulness, like honey deep in the heart of a clover bloom. – Laura Ingalls Wilder • The white moth to the closing vine, The bee to the open clover, And the Gypsy blood to the Gypsy blood Ever the wide world over. – Rudyard Kipling • The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves, Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives; Over and over To the lowly clover He has lisped the same love (and forgotten it, too). He will be lisping and pledging to you. – John Vance Cheney • The word Miracle, as pronounced by Christian churches, gives a false impression; it is Monster. It is not one with the blowing clover and the falling rain. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • There’s no dew left on the daisies and clover; there’s no rain left in heaven. – Jean Ingelow • Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace. – John Greenleaf Whittier • To a lesser extent (they like) the whites and reds, but blues, yellows and oranges are the main bee flowers. Although there are very good white bee flowers – white sweet clover is the best honey plant in the world. – Chip Taylor • To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few. – Emily Dickinson • Today While the blossoms still cling to the vine I’ll taste your strawberries I’ll drink your sweet wine A million tomorrows shall all pass away Here I forget all the joy that is mine. Today I’ll be a dandy and I’ll be a rover You know who I am by the songs that I sing I’ll feast at your table I’ll sleep in your clover Who cares what tomorrow shall bring I can’t be contented with yesterday’s glory I can’t live on promises winter to spring Today is my moment and now is my story I’ll laugh and I’ll cry and I’ll sing – John Denver • What a miserable thing life is: you’re in clover; only the clover isn’t good enough. – Bertolt Brecht • What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells. – John Greenleaf Whittier • What was that you gave me to eat?” Winter panicked. A Filler Crisp,” Clover said, his eyes seventy percent concerned and thirty percent mischievous. – Obert Skye • What’s that darkness over there?” Leven asked. “It’s not good.” Clover said. “Then what is it?” ‘Bad,” Clover suggested, sounding as though he wasn’t all that impressed with Leven’s level of knowledge. “I understand opposites,” Leven said, frustrated. – Obert Skye • When they came to harvest my corpse (open your mouth, close your eyes) cut my body from the rope, surprise, surprise: I was still alive. Tough luck, folks, I know the law: you can’t execute me twice for the same thing. How nice. I fell to the clover, breathed it in, and bared my teeth at them in a filthy grin. You can imagine how that went over. Now I only need to look out at them through my sky-blue eyes. They see their own ill will staring then in the forehead and turn tail Before, I was not a witch. But now I am one. – Margaret Atwood • Winter looked at Leven. Leven looked right back at her. Winter’s cheeks burned red and her green eyes outshone Leven’s. The two of them stared at one another and then, as if they were destined to, thay began to lean into one another, Leven closed his eyes. “What are you doing?” Geth asked concerned. Winter closed his eyes too and leaned close. Both of them looked panicked and out of control, but it didn’t stop them from moving closer and kissing each other. Clover’s jaw dropped and he pulled something out of his void just so he could let go of it in shock. – Obert Skye • You have food?” Winter scolded. “I thought you said you were hungry.” I’m hungry for other things besides what I have,” [Clover] argued. – Obert Skye • You were clearly not doing your part in the clover search, perv. – John Green • Your patience may have long to wait,Whether in little things or great,But all good luck, you soon will learn,Must come to those who nobly earn.Who hunts the hay-field overWill find the four-leaved clover. – Sarah Orne Jewett • You’re walking through a field all by yourself one day in spring and this sweet little bear cub with velvet fur and shiny little eyes comes walking along. And he says to you, ‘Hi, there, little lady. Want to tumble with me?’ So you and the bear spend the whole day in each other’s arms, tumbling down this clover-covered hill. Nice, huh? – Haruki Murakami

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[equitiesstocks]

Clovers Quotes

Official Website: Clovers Quotes

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• A silence, the brief Sabbath of an hour, Reigns o’er the fields; the laborer sits within His dwelling; he has left his steers awhile, Unyoked, to bite the herbage, and his dog Sleeps stretched beside the door-stone in the shade. Now the gray marmot, with uplifted paws, No more sits listening by his den, but steals Abroad, in safety, to the clover-field, And crops its juicy-blossoms. – William C. Bryant • April Rain It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on the hills. The clouds of gray engulf the day And overwhelm the town; It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining roses down. It is not raining rain to me, But fields of clover bloom, Where any buccaneering bee May find a bed and room. A health unto the happy! A fig for him who frets!- It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining violets. – Robert Loveman • At home the great delight is to see the clover and grass now growing on places that were bare when we came. These small healings of the ground are my model accomplishment-everything else I do must aspire to that. While I was at that work the world gained with every move I made, and I harmed nothing. – Wendell Berry

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Clover', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_clover').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_clover img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Because I liked you better Than suits a man to say, It irked you, and I promised I’d throw the thought away. To put the world between us We parted stiff and dry: ‘Farewell,’ said you, ‘forget me.’ ‘Fare well, I will,’ said I. If e’er, where clover whitens The dead man’s knoll, you pass, And no tall flower to meet you Starts in the trefoiled grass, Halt by the headstone shading The heart you have not stirred, And say the lad that loved you Was one that kept his word. – A. E. Housman • Believing there’s no such thing as luck is very unlucky. Like, the worst. Beyond stealing someone’s lucky four-leaf clover. – Caprice Crane • Clover secretly hitched a ride with a nice German couple and their new baby…Clover appeared to the baby, so as to be a delightful, soothing surprise. Well, the child did like Clover. In fact, she held him and cooed. When the parents turned around to look at her and saw their child holding a furry, living creature, they needlessly panicked. – Obert Skye • Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal. – George Orwell • Commemorative stone in the floor of the Chapel of St. George in Westminster Abbey, London, dedicated in 1947: TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT Baden-Powell CHIEF SCOUT OF THE WORLD 1857-1941 Upon one side of the stone was the badge of the Boy Scouts, the arrow-head to point the true way as it had pointed the way for sailors and navigators from the time of the earliest maps; and on the other the badge of the Girl Guides-the three-leafed clover. – Robert Baden-Powell • Crowds of bees are giddy with clover Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet, Crowds of larks at their matins hang over, Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet. – Jean Ingelow • Green clovers. Blue diamonds. Orange Stars. Pink hearts. Purple horseshoes. Man, I never know if I’m looking at a bowl of cereal or having another acid flashback. – David Henry • Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And the Queen Anne’s Lace. – Edna St. Vincent Millay • His Labor is a Chant – His Idleness -a Tune – Oh, for a Bee’s experience Of Clovers, and of Noon! – Emily Dickinson • I found it.” “People find pennies,” Gansey replied. “Or car keys. Or four-leaf clovers.” “And ravens,” Ronan said. “You’re just jealous ’cause” – at this point, he had to stop to regroup his beer-sluggish thoughts – “you didn’t find one, too. – Maggie Stiefvater • I love discovering new young brands and watching these fashion lines take off, like Peter Pilotto, Christopher Kane, and Clover Canyon. – Gillian Jacobs • I noticed that all the prayers I used to offer to God, and all the prayers I now offer to Joe Pesci, are being answered at about the same 50% rate. Half the time I get what I want, half the time I don’t… Same as the four-leaf clover and the horseshoe…same as the Voodoo Lady who tells you your fortune by squeezing the goat’s testicles, it’s all the same: 50-50. So just pick your superstition, sit back, make a wish, and enjoy yourself. – George Carlin • I was in a vintage pub rock band called Clover in the 1970s. – Huey Lewis • I was talking to a Zen master the other day and he said, “You shall be my disciple.”I looked at him and said, “Who was Buddha’s teacher?” He looked at me in a very odd way for a moment and then he burst into laughter and handed me a piece of clover. – Alan Watts • If a man who can’t count finds a four leaf clover, is he lucky? – Stanislaw Lem • If a man who cannot count finds a four-leaf clover, is he entitled to happiness? – Stanislaw Jerzy Lec • If you meet a cross-eyed person you must plunge into the grass, alongside the chilly ants, fish through the green fingernails and come up with the four-leaf clover. – Anne Sexton • If you work, if you wait, you will find the place where the four-leaf clovers grow. – Ella Higginson • I’ll toss my coins in the fountain, Look for clovers in grassy lawns Search for shooting stars in the night Cross my fingers and dream on. – Tracy Chapman • I’m feeling lucky like a four-leaf clover – Jennifer Lopez • In New Mexico, he always awoke a young man, not until he arose and began to shave did he realize that he was growing older. His first consciousness was a sense of the light dry wind blowing in through the windows, with the fragrance of hot sun and sage-brush and sweet clover; a wind that made one’s body feel light and one’s heart cry ‘To-day, to-day,’ like a child’s. – Willa Cather • In the dark of the moon, in flying snow, in the dead of winter, war spreading, families dying, the world in danger, I walk the rocky hillside, sowing clover. – Wendell Berry • Into the air, over the valleys, under the stars, above a river, a pond, a road, flew Cecy. Invisible as new spring winds, fresh as the breath of clover rising from twilight fields, she flew. – Ray Bradbury • Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest place, and finally squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; there she purred contentedly throughout Major’s speech without listening to a word of what he was saying. – George Orwell • Let you hold in mind, girls, that your beauty must pass Like a lovely white clover that rusts with its grass. Keep your bottoms off barstools and marry you young Or be left–an old barrel with many a bung. – X. J. Kennedy • Listen,’ Clover said. ‘Don’t worry about not being able to come back, I’ve lived both places, and trust me, you won’t be getting the short end of the stick if you end up in Foo. I mean, candy alone. – Obert Skye • Love is as bitter as the dregs of sin, As sweet as clover-honey in its cell; Love is the password whereby souls get in To Heaven–the gate that leads, sometimes, to Hell. – Ella Wheeler Wilcox • Many books belong to sunshine, and should be read out of doors. Clover, violets, and hedge roses breathe from their leaves; they are most lovable in cool lanes, along field paths, or upon stiles overhung by hawthorn, while the blackbird pipes, and the nightingale bathes its brown feathers in the twilight copse. – Robert Aris Willmott • No cop was ever born who wasn’t a sucker for a finely-executed high-speed Controlled Drift all the way around one of those clover-leaf freeway interchanges. – Hunter S. Thompson • Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers and laid entwined together on a bed of clover and left there to sleep, left there to dream of their happiness. – Conor Oberst • Oak, granite, Lilies by the road, Remember me? I remember you. Clouds brushing Clover hills, Remember me? Sister, child, Grown tall, Remember me? I remember you. – Gail Carson Levine • On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net. – Czeslaw Milosz • One June evening, when the orchards were pink-blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes about the head of the Lake of Shining Waters, and the air was full of the savor of clover fields and balsamic fir woods, Anne was sitting by her gable window. She had been studying her lessons, but it had grown too dark to see the book, so she had fallen into wide-eyed reverie, looking out past the boughs of the Snow Queen, once more bestarred with its tufts of blossom. – Lucy Maud Montgomery • Peaches grow wild, and pigs can live in clover; A barrel of salted herrings lasts a year; The spring begins before the winter’s over. – Elinor Wylie • Straw mulch, a ground cover of white clover interplanted with the crops, and temporary flooding all provide effective weed control in my fields. – Masanobu Fukuoka • The answer to this riddle has a hole in the middle, And some have been known to fall in it. In tennis it’s nothing, but it can be received, And sometimes a person may win it. Though not seen or heard it may be perceived, Like princes or bees it’s in clover. The answer to this riddle has a hole in the middle, And without it one cannot start over. – Trenton Lee Stewart • The dandelions and buttercups gild all the lawn: the drowsy bee stumbles among the clover tops, and summer sweetens all to me. – James Russell Lowell • The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs, Losing both beauty and utility. – William Shakespeare • The fears of what may come to pass, I cast them all away, Among the clover scented grass, Among the new-mown hay. – Louise Imogen Guiney • The peace of great books be for you, Stains of pressed clover leaves on pages, Bleach of the light of years held in leather. – Carl Sandburg • The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy. – Emily Dickinson • The reason so many people never get anywhere in life is because when opportunity knocks, they are out in the backyard looking for four-leaf clovers. – Walter Chrysler • The shamrock is a religious symbol. St. Patrick said the leaves represented the trinity: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. That’s why four leaf clovers are so lucky, you get a bonus Jesus. – Stephen Colbert • The sweetness of life lies in usefulness, like honey deep in the heart of a clover bloom. – Laura Ingalls Wilder • The white moth to the closing vine, The bee to the open clover, And the Gypsy blood to the Gypsy blood Ever the wide world over. – Rudyard Kipling • The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves, Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives; Over and over To the lowly clover He has lisped the same love (and forgotten it, too). He will be lisping and pledging to you. – John Vance Cheney • The word Miracle, as pronounced by Christian churches, gives a false impression; it is Monster. It is not one with the blowing clover and the falling rain. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • There’s no dew left on the daisies and clover; there’s no rain left in heaven. – Jean Ingelow • Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace. – John Greenleaf Whittier • To a lesser extent (they like) the whites and reds, but blues, yellows and oranges are the main bee flowers. Although there are very good white bee flowers – white sweet clover is the best honey plant in the world. – Chip Taylor • To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few. – Emily Dickinson • Today While the blossoms still cling to the vine I’ll taste your strawberries I’ll drink your sweet wine A million tomorrows shall all pass away Here I forget all the joy that is mine. Today I’ll be a dandy and I’ll be a rover You know who I am by the songs that I sing I’ll feast at your table I’ll sleep in your clover Who cares what tomorrow shall bring I can’t be contented with yesterday’s glory I can’t live on promises winter to spring Today is my moment and now is my story I’ll laugh and I’ll cry and I’ll sing – John Denver • What a miserable thing life is: you’re in clover; only the clover isn’t good enough. – Bertolt Brecht • What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells. – John Greenleaf Whittier • What was that you gave me to eat?” Winter panicked. A Filler Crisp,” Clover said, his eyes seventy percent concerned and thirty percent mischievous. – Obert Skye • What’s that darkness over there?” Leven asked. “It’s not good.” Clover said. “Then what is it?” ‘Bad,” Clover suggested, sounding as though he wasn’t all that impressed with Leven’s level of knowledge. “I understand opposites,” Leven said, frustrated. – Obert Skye • When they came to harvest my corpse (open your mouth, close your eyes) cut my body from the rope, surprise, surprise: I was still alive. Tough luck, folks, I know the law: you can’t execute me twice for the same thing. How nice. I fell to the clover, breathed it in, and bared my teeth at them in a filthy grin. You can imagine how that went over. Now I only need to look out at them through my sky-blue eyes. They see their own ill will staring then in the forehead and turn tail Before, I was not a witch. But now I am one. – Margaret Atwood • Winter looked at Leven. Leven looked right back at her. Winter’s cheeks burned red and her green eyes outshone Leven’s. The two of them stared at one another and then, as if they were destined to, thay began to lean into one another, Leven closed his eyes. “What are you doing?” Geth asked concerned. Winter closed his eyes too and leaned close. Both of them looked panicked and out of control, but it didn’t stop them from moving closer and kissing each other. Clover’s jaw dropped and he pulled something out of his void just so he could let go of it in shock. – Obert Skye • You have food?” Winter scolded. “I thought you said you were hungry.” I’m hungry for other things besides what I have,” [Clover] argued. – Obert Skye • You were clearly not doing your part in the clover search, perv. – John Green • Your patience may have long to wait,Whether in little things or great,But all good luck, you soon will learn,Must come to those who nobly earn.Who hunts the hay-field overWill find the four-leaved clover. – Sarah Orne Jewett • You’re walking through a field all by yourself one day in spring and this sweet little bear cub with velvet fur and shiny little eyes comes walking along. And he says to you, ‘Hi, there, little lady. Want to tumble with me?’ So you and the bear spend the whole day in each other’s arms, tumbling down this clover-covered hill. Nice, huh? – Haruki Murakami

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[swansqueenmills-blog]

New Journey

Chapter one

Black high heels made a dull thud against the carpet floor as the brunette known as Regina Mills made her way into her eight year old sons’ bedroom, opening the door to his room with a gentle knock. However finding her son still fast asleep laying in bed. Sighing, Regina walked further into the room and sat down on the soft mattress of her sons bed, next to the sleeping boy and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder nudging him to wake. “Henry, Henry. Wake up.” The brunette spoke in a soothing manor as she waited for Henry to wake up, easing him from his sleeping state. Soon his eyes flickered open and he looked toward his mother, a sleep filled smile crossing onto his features. “Good morning, mom.” He said with a croaky voice as Reginas’ lips formed a smile of her own. “Good morning, did you have a good sleep?” Henry nodded and sat up in bed, wrapping his still small arms around Reginas equally small frame as her hand came to rest behind his head, running down his hair. She felt so lucky to have him, thanking the fact she got the amazing, talented, smart boy, every day. She couldn’t imagine life without him, not anymore. He was her ‘pick me up’ on her lowest points, the reason she worked, the reason she got up everyday. Henry was always the light of her life since she first seen him, and even now it amazes her that she was so lucky to have him as her son. Soon, the embrace between mother and son was loosened and they made their way downstairs. “Would you like bacon and eggs?” Regina called to Henry as he made his way into the living room, Regina taking a different route and heading for the kitchen to make both of them breakfast. It was a Sunday today and they always had a small fry up, and then got washed and dressed before heading out to the beach or some other place Henry wanted to go. Sunday was the day Regina and Henry always spent together, and the only day she let her eight year old boy eat junk or fatty foods. “Yes please mom.” He called from the living room. And at hearing his conformation, Regina got out the eggs and bacon and began making breakfast. Once it was nearly done, Regina called Henry into the room to ask him to wash his hands and help her set up the table. When the boy had washed his hands, she gave him the two forks to put on the table and the bottles of sauce. Then she asked him to sit at the table while she served the food and brought it out to him. She placed the gold rimmed porcelain plate down at the table for Henry before moving to her own place and putting her plate down. “Would you like a drink?” Regina asked as she moved to take her apron off, untying the knot at the back and removing the item off her over her head. And then ruffling her hair to move it back into place. “Yes please, can I have squash?” Regina nodded and went to get Henry his drink and her coffee. She came back out a few minutes later with both drinks in either hand and placed the glass onto the table where her son was sitting and went to her own seat putting the cup down and sitting in her seat, picking up her knife and fork and began cutting her food up and eating. After a few moments of silent eating between them, Regina picked up her napkin and dabbed her, lipstick painted lips with it before speaking. “So, how was school this week?” She asked generally interested, and not having time yesterday  to talk to him about it, due to a sudden meeting at Town Hall. Henry shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay, nothing interesting happened this week. We got a bit of homework but I did it while you went to work.” The young boy explained. “Oh and I have finally learned my 6 times tables.” Henry had been struggling a lot with that one, and had been a goal for him to achieve for a few months. A smile formed on her lips at hearing her sons’ achievement. “Well done, I’m proud of you.” Her voice was full of love and praise for her son. “How about the rest of your week?” Henry told her about the things he had done that week, and the trip he went with, with his friends, the whole time Regina contently listening and replying to what he said. She really did feel lucky. After breakfast Henry went to get washed and dressed and then met Regina, ready to go out for the day. They had decided on a walk around town before seeing where he wanted to go after. Meanwhile, in the centre of town. Emma pulled up in her yellow bug, parking it at the side of the road in a designated spot by Grannies. Getting out the car she looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, the sun high up in the sky and the early autumn warmth hitting her skin nicely. The female walked onto the concreate path and looked around for a moment, trying to spot a person she could speak to. Ask for directions, or somewhere to stay the night. She knew the estate agents or Town Hall wouldn’t be open so she could hardly start searching for a house today. That was when she seen a woman with dark hair walk out of the Café/B&B. Walking over to her Emma stopped at the female. “Excuse me, do you know anywhere I could stay the night? And anybody who could help me out. I am new to town and I don’t know anything about this place.” The female turned around and looked at Emma. “Sure well, this place has a Bed and Breakfast around the back. And oh-.” Ruby noticed Regina and Henry walking down the street. Gesturing toward her she continued. “That is Mayor Mills, I’m sure if you go over to her she will be happy to help.” Ruby smiled kindly and walked back into the café, as Emma replied with a ‘Thanks’ Emma walked over to the Mayor and her son, hoping she wasn’t disturbing a family time or anything. “Hey, sorry to interrupt you, but uh. I am new in town and I heard you are the Mayor… and to speak to you.” Emma looked toward Regina who had now stopped walking and was looking at her, then she looked down at Henry then back at the female in front of her, placing her hands into her jean pockets. Regina smiled a welcoming and friendly gesture. “Well it’s nice to meet you Miss?...” “Emma, you can just call me Emma.” She smiled back to the brunette. “Welcome Emma. I am Regina Mills, as you know I am the Mayor. How can I help?” She offered, wanting to help the female out any way she could. “I need a house, and I have no idea my way around town. I was wondering, even if not today you could help me out. They have offered me a place at the Bed and Breakfast but I don’t want to stay there all the time.” Emma explained, hoping Regina would be able to help. “Well, me and my son are having a walk around the town. You are more than welcome to join us and I can tell you where all the shops are. You can tell me a housing budget for me to have a look what we have when I am at work.” Regina suggested and Emma accepted with a smile and a nod. However still cautious to the fact she might have been invading time with the mother and son. “Are you sure, I do not want to invade you and your son’s life.” Regina simply shook her head with a smile before looking at Henry. “I don’t think Henry minds, do you?” The boy smiled and shook his head. They began walking on the paths of Storybrooke, Regina curiously slipping in a question. “So, what brings you to this town?” She looked at the female next to her, Henry standing at the opposite side of Regina. “Well, I am from New York and I just fancied a change.” Emma shrugged, Regina nodding to what she said as she listened. “Well, I can assure you. This town is different to the city. It might take a while to get used to.” And it was true, the town wasn’t very populated. And never got visitors, and everybody in town knew each other. “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted. The city, it didn’t have anything for me. I didn’t really have any friends, and the only thing I really did was work.” She said sadly. “Everybody in this town are pretty much friends, you get the odd person who keeps themselves to themselves. I try to because being Mayor, but I’m not successful at doing that. Especially with Henry and his ability to talk to everybody in town.” She laughed lightly. “How about family, won’t they miss you?” Emma stopped a moment, looking at Regina. She didn’t know if she should say anything, not knowing the woman that much. However, as the topic had come up Emma decided to say something. If she was going to be staying and everybody was in fact as close as Regina said they were going to find out. “I was given away by my parents; I pretty much stayed in the system until I was old enough to leave.” Regina felt bad for asking, and a frown left her features, seeing the upset look on Emma’s face, obviously it was a difficult topic for her. “I’m sorry.” She said quietly. Emma shaking her head. “Its fine, you didn’t know.” She smiled to reassure Regina. “I think, by what you say. I get the idea I will soon have a family, by the sounds of this town.” They both exchanged a smile to one another. They continued to walk around town, telling each other small details about each other.  Regina telling Emma about the town, and Emma ending up spending the rest of the day with the mother and son, and for once she felt like she belonged somewhere. That there was something forming between her and Regina, and even Henry. Her and him talking. Near to the evening, Regina and Emma sat at a bench watching the young boy play around on the park equipment. “So, have you enjoyed your first day here?” Regina asked, turning her head to Emma keeping her hands closed together on her lap keeping them warm from the Autumn evening breeze. Emma nodded and turned her own head to face the brunette. “Yes, I have.” She smiled, Regina nodding. “Good, I am glad you have. So, are you staying at Grannies tonight?” Emma nodded, and Regina continued. “I will see about houses first thing tomorrow and give you a call… Could I have your number?” Emma once again nodded with a ‘sure’ and got out her touchscreen phone, finding her number. Having so many things to remember with her job, she never had the chance to memorise her number. Regina got her own phone out and went onto the new contact button, typing in Emma’s’ name and typing the number in that she showed her. Regina saved the number and put her phone back in her pocket. “I will give you a call as soon as I find something.” Regina smiled. “Thank you.” “How about work? Do you have any ideas of what you would want to do?” Regina asked, guessing Emma would need a job to pay for the house, and her other bills. “Um… I worked, and trained in the police. I mean it was a bit too chaotic in the end. But seeing as I wouldn’t expect much crime here, maybe a job in the Sheriff’s department?” Regina let out a small sigh and nodded, currently there was no jobs at there. And it would take a bit of time to rearrange it and work out if the budget could be altered. That’s when she came up with an idea. “I do not have anything at the Sheriff’s department at the moment. But if you are willing to, I need some help in town hall. And I have enough money in that budget to hire somebody. It will only be temporary while I sort something out, but you would be helping me out a lot.” Emma thought on what Regina said for a minute, she did need to gain some money and at least then she had something to keep busy, and by the seams of things she and the woman next to her were getting along. “Okay.” Emma accepted, the two of them exchanging a smile between them as Henry walked over. “Mom, I’m getting bored now. Can we go home?” Henry asked once he was standing by Regina and Emma. “Of course.” Regina said and the two females stood. “I will see you tomorrow Emma.” “See ya tomorrow.” And with that Regina and Henry made their way back to their house, Emma making her way to Grannies, hoping she didn’t get too lost. And Luckily she found her way there easily. Once there, Emma had a meal at the café and made her way to the room they had given her. Saying they would give her the room as long as she needed, even giving it to her at a discount. Emma thanked them and once in her room looked through some of the broachers she had picked up about the town. After she went to sleep, happy with her new friendship with Regina and the fact this new journey was more than she ever thought it would be. Back at the Mills house Regina and Henry had dinner, and sat together watching TV until bedtime. Regina tucked her son into bed, and went to her own room getting dressed into her pyjamas and getting ready for bed. Ready for the next day.

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

How You Can Experience 1920s Paris Today

If there is one era I’d want to visit more than any other, it’s Paris in the 1920s. I’m in love with that decade. The literature, jazz, optimism, style, and atmosphere — I love it all. Midnight in Paris is my favorite Paris movie, and I often wish I could make that real life.

However, unless you have a time machine, you can’t really visit 1920s Paris. What made les Années folles special can never be relived — the spirit, psyche, people, and music have long since faded away. But, as we have seen with the rise of Gatsby-themed parties and Prohibition-style bars, you can pretend! And that’s what I did on a recent visit to Paris, where there are still enough spots that recreate the era’s vibe to fill a visit.

Things to See and Do

20 rue Jacob – Back in the ’20s, a lot of American expats hosted salons that would bring together artists and writers to discuss and debate specific topics. One of the most famous was led by writer Natalie Clifford Barney. Although the building she lived in has been rebuilt since her time, during the day, you can often peer into the courtyard and garden where she held her salons.

The Luxembourg Garden (Jardin du Luxembourg; 6th arrondissement) – This is one of my all-time favorite places to visit when I’m in Paris. These beautiful and gigantic gardens, which surround the Luxembourg Palace (now home to the National Assembly), are also full of walking paths, chairs to relax in, ponds and fountains, statues, and finely manicured lawns that can’t help but inspire and soothe you. On a warm day, the gardens are bursting with people. In his day, Ernest Hemingway was also a fan, and it is said he wrote a lot during his strolls around the gardens.

Shakespeare & Co. (37 Rue de La Bûcherie, http://ift.tt/j7zTtn) – Located across from Notre Dame, Shakespeare & Co. is one of the most iconic bookshops in the world. The original store opened in 1919 and served as a popular haunt for writers such as Ezra Pound, Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, and others who fancied themselves writers (Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast has a chapter about his visit). The original location closed during WWII. The current store and location dates to 1951. It still captures the spirit of the writer class and does a lot to support writers (it has 13 beds writers can sleep in for free!), hosting readings and events throughout the year. I love wandering through its stacks and picking out unknown titles.

Montmartre – The Left Bank was the main hangout of artists and writers, but when they crossed the Seine, they went to Montmartre, where the cheap shops, cafés, and restaurants served as a backdrop to their discussions and work. They painted in the squares, debated in the streets, and wandered the tiny cobblestone streets in solitary thought. Today, thanks to the cheap housing, the area is still home to artists and painters (though it is far more touristy)!

27 rue de Fleurus – Another salon was hosted by the famous Gertrude Stein, who lived at this address. Anyone who was anyone attended them, including Joyce, Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Guillaume Apollinaire, and Ezra Pound. Today, the rue de Fleurus is a quiet street and the house she lived in has been remodeled, but there’s a plaque above the address marking this famous spot, so you can sit for a moment and imagine what it would have been like to see all the greats walk in and out!

Where to Eat

Les Deux Magots (6 Place Saint-Germain des Prés, www.lesdeuxmagots.fr) and Café de Flore (172 Boulevard Saint-Germain, www.cafedeflore.fr) – These two cafés are most synonymous with the Lost Generation (those who grew up during and just after World War I). Located right near each other in the now-trendy Saint-Germain-des-Prés quarter of Paris, these cafés are where all the artists and writers hung out in the 1920s. Picasso, Hemingway (again), Simone de Beauvoir, André Gide, Jean Giraudoux, Jean Paul Sartre — they were always here. Les Deux Magots sits on the corner of Boulevard Saint-Germain and Rue Bonaparte and fills the sidewalk with its chairs and tables, while the inside retains its old look: white walls, columns, and large mirrors. Café de Flore, with its large plants and flowers in the entranceway, is cozier but also retains its old-style marble floor and red leather seats.

La Closerie des Lilas (171 Boulevard du Montparnasse, http://ift.tt/1qWubrJ) – At the far end of the Luxembourg Gardens, you’ll find this tiny little café with a dimly lit interior and large outdoor patio hidden from the street by giant plants. It is said that Hemingway first read The Great Gatsby here. Like the other venues, the interior is still identical to how was it was 1920s.

Le Polidor (41 Rue Monsieur le Prince, www.polidor.com/en) – In Midnight in Paris, this is where Gil meets his idol, Ernest Hemingway. During the 1920s, this was actually a popular location for the likes of Joyce, Hemingway, André Gide, and Antonin Artaud. Thanks to the movie, restaurant is doing a booming business, but if you can find a seat, you’ll see that the hard-wood interior and décor has changed little since the ’20s. Imagine yourself sitting next to some famous artist of the day over delicious food and wine!

Where to Listen to Music

There aren’t many original music and jazz clubs left that have been around since the 1920s. Most have shifted focus, but if you want to listen to some good music, I recommend these three jazz bars:

Le Caveau de la Huchette  (5 Rue de la Huchette, http://ift.tt/2o1XPk4r) – This place has become increasingly popular since it was mentioned in the hit movie La La Land.

Le Caveau des Oubliettes (52 Rue Galande, http://ift.tt/2opQOp5) – An awesome club in the Latin Quarter. This small venue is an ex wine cave dating back centuries. Small and intimate, it’s my favorite of the three.

Le Duc des Lombards (42 Rue des Lombards, http://ift.tt/KR1cBV) – On the right bank, this jazz club is probably the most famous (and touristy) of the city but it gets incredible acts and pumps out some of the best jazz and blues in the area!

Where to Drink

Harry’s New York Bar (5 Rue Daunou, www.harrysbar.fr/en) – This is where they created the Bloody Mary and the Sidecar. This nondescript bar opened in 1911 and was a popular hangout for Fitzgerald and Hemingway. The tiny bar, with its deep wood finish, carved ceilings, and red leather seats, still remains intact.

Dingo Bar (10 Rue Delambre) – This is where Hemingway first met Fitzgerald. It was popular with the Lost Generation because it was one of the few places that were open all night (and they liked to party late into the morning). Today, it’s an Italian restaurant called L’Auberge de Venise, but the original bar remains and you can still come and pretend to have a drink with “Papa.”

The Prescription Cocktail Club (23 Rue Mazarine, http://ift.tt/14VKLuM) – From the street, all you see is a curtained window, but when you get inside, you’re reminded of a 1920s NYC-style speakeasy. True, this place didn’t exist in the 1920s, but if you’re looking for incredible cocktails and an ambiance and class that says “welcome to history,” slide up to the marble bar and enjoy a drink in this darkly lit bar with exposed bricks and old-fashioned furniture.

The Little Red Door (60 Rue Charlot, www.lrdparis.com) – Located in the Marais, this is another bar looking to recreate that 1920s speakeasy vibe. It’s easy to pass the little red door of a nondescript building that hides this beautiful small bar with brick walls, eclectic furniture, and amazing (strong) cocktails. While it lacks the true ’20s feeling of the Prescription Cocktail Club, it’s still a fun place to visit!

***As Hemingway once wrote, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” Paris has changed a lot since les Années folles, and while it will never be the same, you can visit the old haunts and — just for a moment — transport yourself back in time and imagine what it was like.

Recommended Books and Movies

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway

When Paris Sizzled by Mary McAuliffe

Everybody Was So Young by Amanda Vaill

Paris in the 1920s with Kiki de Montparnasse by Xavier Girard

Shakespeare and Company by Sylvia Beach

Flappers: Six Women of a Dangerous Generation by Judith Mackrell

Paris Without End: The True Story of Hemingway’s First Wife by Gioia Diliberto

The Crazy Years: Paris in the Twenties by William Wiser

Midnight in Paris, directed by Woody Allen

Photo credit: 4, 5

The post How You Can Experience 1920s Paris Today appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

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[touristguidebuzz]

How You Can Experience 1920s Paris Today

If there is one era I’d want to visit more than any other, it’s Paris in the 1920s. I’m in love with that decade. The literature, jazz, optimism, style, and atmosphere — I love it all. Midnight in Paris is my favorite Paris movie, and I often wish I could make that real life.

However, unless you have a time machine, you can’t really visit 1920s Paris. What made les Années folles special can never be relived — the spirit, psyche, people, and music have long since faded away. But, as we have seen with the rise of Gatsby-themed parties and Prohibition-style bars, you can pretend! And that’s what I did on a recent visit to Paris, where there are still enough spots that recreate the era’s vibe to fill a visit.

Things to See and Do

20 rue Jacob – Back in the ’20s, a lot of American expats hosted salons that would bring together artists and writers to discuss and debate specific topics. One of the most famous was led by writer Natalie Clifford Barney. Although the building she lived in has been rebuilt since her time, during the day, you can often peer into the courtyard and garden where she held her salons.

The Luxembourg Garden (Jardin du Luxembourg; 6th arrondissement) – This is one of my all-time favorite places to visit when I’m in Paris. These beautiful and gigantic gardens, which surround the Luxembourg Palace (now home to the National Assembly), are also full of walking paths, chairs to relax in, ponds and fountains, statues, and finely manicured lawns that can’t help but inspire and soothe you. On a warm day, the gardens are bursting with people. In his day, Ernest Hemingway was also a fan, and it is said he wrote a lot during his strolls around the gardens.

Shakespeare & Co. (37 Rue de La Bûcherie, http://bit.ly/2n9FPiO) – Located across from Notre Dame, Shakespeare & Co. is one of the most iconic bookshops in the world. The original store opened in 1919 and served as a popular haunt for writers such as Ezra Pound, Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, and others who fancied themselves writers (Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast has a chapter about his visit). The original location closed during WWII. The current store and location dates to 1951. It still captures the spirit of the writer class and does a lot to support writers (it has 13 beds writers can sleep in for free!), hosting readings and events throughout the year. I love wandering through its stacks and picking out unknown titles.

Montmartre – The Left Bank was the main hangout of artists and writers, but when they crossed the Seine, they went to Montmartre, where the cheap shops, cafés, and restaurants served as a backdrop to their discussions and work. They painted in the squares, debated in the streets, and wandered the tiny cobblestone streets in solitary thought. Today, thanks to the cheap housing, the area is still home to artists and painters (though it is far more touristy)!

27 rue de Fleurus – Another salon was hosted by the famous Gertrude Stein, who lived at this address. Anyone who was anyone attended them, including Joyce, Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Guillaume Apollinaire, and Ezra Pound. Today, the rue de Fleurus is a quiet street and the house she lived in has been remodeled, but there’s a plaque above the address marking this famous spot, so you can sit for a moment and imagine what it would have been like to see all the greats walk in and out!

Where to Eat

Les Deux Magots (6 Place Saint-Germain des Prés, www.lesdeuxmagots.fr) and Café de Flore (172 Boulevard Saint-Germain, www.cafedeflore.fr) – These two cafés are most synonymous with the Lost Generation (those who grew up during and just after World War I). Located right near each other in the now-trendy Saint-Germain-des-Prés quarter of Paris, these cafés are where all the artists and writers hung out in the 1920s. Picasso, Hemingway (again), Simone de Beauvoir, André Gide, Jean Giraudoux, Jean Paul Sartre — they were always here. Les Deux Magots sits on the corner of Boulevard Saint-Germain and Rue Bonaparte and fills the sidewalk with its chairs and tables, while the inside retains its old look: white walls, columns, and large mirrors. Café de Flore, with its large plants and flowers in the entranceway, is cozier but also retains its old-style marble floor and red leather seats.

La Closerie des Lilas (171 Boulevard du Montparnasse, http://bit.ly/2o2Pr3y) – At the far end of the Luxembourg Gardens, you’ll find this tiny little café with a dimly lit interior and large outdoor patio hidden from the street by giant plants. It is said that Hemingway first read The Great Gatsby here. Like the other venues, the interior is still identical to how was it was 1920s.

Le Polidor (41 Rue Monsieur le Prince, www.polidor.com/en) – In Midnight in Paris, this is where Gil meets his idol, Ernest Hemingway. During the 1920s, this was actually a popular location for the likes of Joyce, Hemingway, André Gide, and Antonin Artaud. Thanks to the movie, restaurant is doing a booming business, but if you can find a seat, you’ll see that the hard-wood interior and décor has changed little since the ’20s. Imagine yourself sitting next to some famous artist of the day over delicious food and wine!

Where to Listen to Music

There aren’t many original music and jazz clubs left that have been around since the 1920s. Most have shifted focus, but if you want to listen to some good music, I recommend these three jazz bars:

Le Caveau de la Huchette  (5 Rue de la Huchette, http://bit.ly/2n9OFwRr) – This place has become increasingly popular since it was mentioned in the hit movie La La Land.

Le Caveau des Oubliettes (52 Rue Galande, http://bit.ly/2o2YrWm) – An awesome club in the Latin Quarter. This small venue is an ex wine cave dating back centuries. Small and intimate, it’s my favorite of the three.

Le Duc des Lombards (42 Rue des Lombards, http://bit.ly/2o2SBV5) – On the right bank, this jazz club is probably the most famous (and touristy) of the city but it gets incredible acts and pumps out some of the best jazz and blues in the area!

Where to Drink

Harry’s New York Bar (5 Rue Daunou, www.harrysbar.fr/en) – This is where they created the Bloody Mary and the Sidecar. This nondescript bar opened in 1911 and was a popular hangout for Fitzgerald and Hemingway. The tiny bar, with its deep wood finish, carved ceilings, and red leather seats, still remains intact.

Dingo Bar (10 Rue Delambre) – This is where Hemingway first met Fitzgerald. It was popular with the Lost Generation because it was one of the few places that were open all night (and they liked to party late into the morning). Today, it’s an Italian restaurant called L’Auberge de Venise, but the original bar remains and you can still come and pretend to have a drink with “Papa.”

The Prescription Cocktail Club (23 Rue Mazarine, http://bit.ly/2o2XM7x) – From the street, all you see is a curtained window, but when you get inside, you’re reminded of a 1920s NYC-style speakeasy. True, this place didn’t exist in the 1920s, but if you’re looking for incredible cocktails and an ambiance and class that says “welcome to history,” slide up to the marble bar and enjoy a drink in this darkly lit bar with exposed bricks and old-fashioned furniture.

The Little Red Door (60 Rue Charlot, www.lrdparis.com) – Located in the Marais, this is another bar looking to recreate that 1920s speakeasy vibe. It’s easy to pass the little red door of a nondescript building that hides this beautiful small bar with brick walls, eclectic furniture, and amazing (strong) cocktails. While it lacks the true ’20s feeling of the Prescription Cocktail Club, it’s still a fun place to visit!

***As Hemingway once wrote, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” Paris has changed a lot since les Années folles, and while it will never be the same, you can visit the old haunts and — just for a moment — transport yourself back in time and imagine what it was like.

Recommended Books and Movies

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway

When Paris Sizzled by Mary McAuliffe

Everybody Was So Young by Amanda Vaill

Paris in the 1920s with Kiki de Montparnasse by Xavier Girard

Shakespeare and Company by Sylvia Beach

Flappers: Six Women of a Dangerous Generation by Judith Mackrell

Paris Without End: The True Story of Hemingway’s First Wife by Gioia Diliberto

The Crazy Years: Paris in the Twenties by William Wiser

Midnight in Paris, directed by Woody Allen

Photo credit: 4, 5

The post How You Can Experience 1920s Paris Today appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

[vidovicart]

How You can Experience 1920s Paris Today

If there is one era I’d want to visit more than any other, it’s Paris in the 1920s. I’m in love with that decade. The literature, jazz, optimism, style, and atmosphere — I love it all. Midnight in Paris is my favorite Paris movie, and I often wish I could make that real life.

However, unless you have a time machine, you can’t really visit 1920s Paris. What made les Années folles special can never be relived — the spirit, psyche, people, and music have long since faded away. But, as we have seen with the rise of Gatsby-themed parties and Prohibition-style bars, you can pretend! And that’s what I did on a recent visit to Paris, where there are still enough spots that recreate the era’s vibe to fill a visit.

Things to See and Do

20 rue Jacob – Back in the ’20s, a lot of American expats hosted salons that would bring together artists and writers to discuss and debate specific topics. One of the most famous was led by writer Natalie Clifford Barney. Although the building she lived in has been rebuilt since her time, during the day, you can often peer into the courtyard and garden where she held her salons.

The Luxembourg Garden (Jardin du Luxembourg; 6th arrondissement) – This is one of my all-time favorite places to visit when I’m in Paris. These beautiful and gigantic gardens, which surround the Luxembourg Palace (now home to the National Assembly), are also full of walking paths, chairs to relax in, ponds and fountains, statues, and finely manicured lawns that can’t help but inspire and soothe you. On a warm day, the gardens are bursting with people. In his day, Ernest Hemingway was also a fan, and it is said he wrote a lot during his strolls around the gardens.

Shakespeare & Co. (37 Rue de La Bûcherie, www.shakespeareandcompany.com) – Located across from Notre Dame, Shakespeare & Co. is one of the most iconic bookshops in the world. The original store opened in 1919 and served as a popular haunt for writers such as Ezra Pound, Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, and others who fancied themselves writers (Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast has a chapter about his visit). The original location closed during WWII. The current store and location dates to 1951. It still captures the spirit of the writer class and does a lot to support writers (it has 13 beds writers can sleep in for free!), hosting readings and events throughout the year. I love wandering through its stacks and picking out unknown titles.

Montmartre – The Left Bank was the main hangout of artists and writers, but when they crossed the Seine, they went to Montmartre, where the cheap shops, cafés, and restaurants served as a backdrop to their discussions and work. They painted in the squares, debated in the streets, and wandered the tiny cobblestone streets in solitary thought. Today, thanks to the cheap housing, the area is still home to artists and painters (though it is far more touristy)!

27 rue de Fleurus – Another salon was hosted by the famous Gertrude Stein, who lived at this address. Anyone who was anyone attended them, including Joyce, Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Guillaume Apollinaire, and Ezra Pound. Today, the rue de Fleurus is a quiet street and the house she lived in has been remodeled, but there’s a plaque above the address marking this famous spot, so you can sit for a moment and imagine what it would have been like to see all the greats walk in and out!

Where to Eat

Les Deux Magots (6 Place Saint-Germain des Prés, www.lesdeuxmagots.fr) and Café de Flore (172 Boulevard Saint-Germain, www.cafedeflore.fr) – These two cafés are most synonymous with the Lost Generation (those who grew up during and just after World War I). Located right near each other in the now-trendy Saint-Germain-des-Prés quarter of Paris, these cafés are where all the artists and writers hung out in the 1920s. Picasso, Hemingway (again), Simone de Beauvoir, André Gide, Jean Giraudoux, Jean Paul Sartre — they were always here. Les Deux Magots sits on the corner of Boulevard Saint-Germain and Rue Bonaparte and fills the sidewalk with its chairs and tables, while the inside retains its old look: white walls, columns, and large mirrors. Café de Flore, with its large plants and flowers in the entranceway, is cozier but also retains its old-style marble floor and red leather seats.

La Closerie des Lilas (171 Boulevard du Montparnasse, www.closeriedeslilas.fr) – At the far end of the Luxembourg Gardens, you’ll find this tiny little café with a dimly lit interior and large outdoor patio hidden from the street by giant plants. It is said that Hemingway first read The Great Gatsby here. Like the other venues, the interior is still identical to how was it was 1920s.

Le Polidor (41 Rue Monsieur le Prince, www.polidor.com/en) – In Midnight in Paris, this is where Gil meets his idol, Ernest Hemingway. During the 1920s, this was actually a popular location for the likes of Joyce, Hemingway, André Gide, and Antonin Artaud. Thanks to the movie, restaurant is doing a booming business, but if you can find a seat, you’ll see that the hard-wood interior and décor has changed little since the ’20s. Imagine yourself sitting next to some famous artist of the day over delicious food and wine!

Where to Listen to Music

There aren’t many original music and jazz clubs left that have been around since the 1920s. Most have shifted focus, but if you want to listen to some good music, I recommend these three jazz bars:

Le Caveau de la Huchette  (5 Rue de la Huchette, www.caveaudelahuchette.fr) – This place has become increasingly popular since it was mentioned in the hit movie La La Land.

Le Caveau des Oubliettes (52 Rue Galande, www.caveau-des-oubliettes.com) – An awesome club in the Latin Quarter. This small venue is an ex wine cave dating back centuries. Small and intimate, it’s my favorite of the three.

Le Duc des Lombards (42 Rue des Lombards, www.ducdeslombards.com) – On the right bank, this jazz club is probably the most famous (and touristy) of the city but it gets incredible acts and pumps out some of the best jazz and blues in the area!

Where to Drink

Harry’s New York Bar (5 Rue Daunou, www.harrysbar.fr/en) – This is where they created the Bloody Mary and the Sidecar. This nondescript bar opened in 1911 and was a popular hangout for Fitzgerald and Hemingway. The tiny bar, with its deep wood finish, carved ceilings, and red leather seats, still remains intact.

Dingo Bar (10 Rue Delambre) – This is where Hemingway first met Fitzgerald. It was popular with the Lost Generation because it was one of the few places that were open all night (and they liked to party late into the morning). Today, it’s an Italian restaurant called L’Auberge de Venise, but the original bar remains and you can still come and pretend to have a drink with “Papa.”

The Prescription Cocktail Club (23 Rue Mazarine, www.prescriptioncocktailclub.com) – From the street, all you see is a curtained window, but when you get inside, you’re reminded of a 1920s NYC-style speakeasy. True, this place didn’t exist in the 1920s, but if you’re looking for incredible cocktails and an ambiance and class that says “welcome to history,” slide up to the marble bar and enjoy a drink in this darkly lit bar with exposed bricks and old-fashioned furniture.

The Little Red Door (60 Rue Charlot, www.lrdparis.com) – Located in the Marais, this is another bar looking to recreate that 1920s speakeasy vibe. It’s easy to pass the little red door of a nondescript building that hides this beautiful small bar with brick walls, eclectic furniture, and amazing (strong) cocktails. While it lacks the true ’20s feeling of the Prescription Cocktail Club, it’s still a fun place to visit!

***As Hemingway once wrote, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” Paris has changed a lot since les Années folles, and while it will never be the same, you can visit the old haunts and — just for a moment — transport yourself back in time and imagine what it was like.

Recommended Books and Movies

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway

When Paris Sizzled: The 1920s Paris of Hemingway, Chanel, Cocteau, Cole Porter, Josephine

Baker, and Their Friends by Mary McAuliffe

Everybody Was So Young: Gerald and Sara Murphy: A Lost Generation Love Story by Amanda Vaill

Paris in the 1920s with Kiki de Montparnasse by Xavier Girard

Shakespeare and Company by Sylvia Beach

Flappers: Six Women of a Dangerous Generation by Judith Mackrell

Paris Without End: The True Story of Hemingway’s First Wife by Gioia Diliberto

The Crazy Years: Paris in the Twenties by William Wiser

Midnight in Paris, directed by Woody Allen

Photo credit: 4

The post How You can Experience 1920s Paris Today appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

[tamboradventure]

How You can Experience 1920s Paris Today

If there is one era I’d want to visit more than any other, it’s Paris in the 1920s. I’m in love with that decade. The literature, jazz, optimism, style, and atmosphere — I love it all. Midnight in Paris is my favorite Paris movie, and I often wish I could make that real life.

However, unless you have a time machine, you can’t really visit 1920s Paris. What made les Années folles special can never be relived — the spirit, psyche, people, and music have long since faded away. But, as we have seen with the rise of Gatsby-themed parties and Prohibition-style bars, you can pretend! And that’s what I did on a recent visit to Paris, where there are still enough spots that recreate the era’s vibe to fill a visit.

Things to See and Do

20 rue Jacob – Back in the ’20s, a lot of American expats hosted salons that would bring together artists and writers to discuss and debate specific topics. One of the most famous was led by writer Natalie Clifford Barney. Although the building she lived in has been rebuilt since her time, during the day, you can often peer into the courtyard and garden where she held her salons.

The Luxembourg Garden (Jardin du Luxembourg; 6th arrondissement) – This is one of my all-time favorite places to visit when I’m in Paris. These beautiful and gigantic gardens, which surround the Luxembourg Palace (now home to the National Assembly), are also full of walking paths, chairs to relax in, ponds and fountains, statues, and finely manicured lawns that can’t help but inspire and soothe you. On a warm day, the gardens are bursting with people. In his day, Ernest Hemingway was also a fan, and it is said he wrote a lot during his strolls around the gardens.

Shakespeare & Co. (37 Rue de La Bûcherie, http://ift.tt/j7zTtn) – Located across from Notre Dame, Shakespeare & Co. is one of the most iconic bookshops in the world. The original store opened in 1919 and served as a popular haunt for writers such as Ezra Pound, Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, and others who fancied themselves writers (Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast has a chapter about his visit). The original location closed during WWII. The current store and location dates to 1951. It still captures the spirit of the writer class and does a lot to support writers (it has 13 beds writers can sleep in for free!), hosting readings and events throughout the year. I love wandering through its stacks and picking out unknown titles.

Montmartre – The Left Bank was the main hangout of artists and writers, but when they crossed the Seine, they went to Montmartre, where the cheap shops, cafés, and restaurants served as a backdrop to their discussions and work. They painted in the squares, debated in the streets, and wandered the tiny cobblestone streets in solitary thought. Today, thanks to the cheap housing, the area is still home to artists and painters (though it is far more touristy)!

27 rue de Fleurus – Another salon was hosted by the famous Gertrude Stein, who lived at this address. Anyone who was anyone attended them, including Joyce, Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Guillaume Apollinaire, and Ezra Pound. Today, the rue de Fleurus is a quiet street and the house she lived in has been remodeled, but there’s a plaque above the address marking this famous spot, so you can sit for a moment and imagine what it would have been like to see all the greats walk in and out!

Where to Eat

Les Deux Magots (6 Place Saint-Germain des Prés, www.lesdeuxmagots.fr) and Café de Flore (172 Boulevard Saint-Germain, www.cafedeflore.fr) – These two cafés are most synonymous with the Lost Generation (those who grew up during and just after World War I). Located right near each other in the now-trendy Saint-Germain-des-Prés quarter of Paris, these cafés are where all the artists and writers hung out in the 1920s. Picasso, Hemingway (again), Simone de Beauvoir, André Gide, Jean Giraudoux, Jean Paul Sartre — they were always here. Les Deux Magots sits on the corner of Boulevard Saint-Germain and Rue Bonaparte and fills the sidewalk with its chairs and tables, while the inside retains its old look: white walls, columns, and large mirrors. Café de Flore, with its large plants and flowers in the entranceway, is cozier but also retains its old-style marble floor and red leather seats.

La Closerie des Lilas (171 Boulevard du Montparnasse, http://ift.tt/1qWubrJ) – At the far end of the Luxembourg Gardens, you’ll find this tiny little café with a dimly lit interior and large outdoor patio hidden from the street by giant plants. It is said that Hemingway first read The Great Gatsby here. Like the other venues, the interior is still identical to how was it was 1920s.

Le Polidor (41 Rue Monsieur le Prince, www.polidor.com/en) – In Midnight in Paris, this is where Gil meets his idol, Ernest Hemingway. During the 1920s, this was actually a popular location for the likes of Joyce, Hemingway, André Gide, and Antonin Artaud. Thanks to the movie, restaurant is doing a booming business, but if you can find a seat, you’ll see that the hard-wood interior and décor has changed little since the ’20s. Imagine yourself sitting next to some famous artist of the day over delicious food and wine!

Where to Listen to Music

There aren’t many original music and jazz clubs left that have been around since the 1920s. Most have shifted focus, but if you want to listen to some good music, I recommend these three jazz bars:

Le Caveau de la Huchette  (5 Rue de la Huchette, http://ift.tt/2o1XPk4r) – This place has become increasingly popular since it was mentioned in the hit movie La La Land.

Le Caveau des Oubliettes (52 Rue Galande, http://ift.tt/2opQOp5) – An awesome club in the Latin Quarter. This small venue is an ex wine cave dating back centuries. Small and intimate, it’s my favorite of the three.

Le Duc des Lombards (42 Rue des Lombards, http://ift.tt/KR1cBV) – On the right bank, this jazz club is probably the most famous (and touristy) of the city but it gets incredible acts and pumps out some of the best jazz and blues in the area!

Where to Drink

Harry’s New York Bar (5 Rue Daunou, www.harrysbar.fr/en) – This is where they created the Bloody Mary and the Sidecar. This nondescript bar opened in 1911 and was a popular hangout for Fitzgerald and Hemingway. The tiny bar, with its deep wood finish, carved ceilings, and red leather seats, still remains intact.

Dingo Bar (10 Rue Delambre) – This is where Hemingway first met Fitzgerald. It was popular with the Lost Generation because it was one of the few places that were open all night (and they liked to party late into the morning). Today, it’s an Italian restaurant called L’Auberge de Venise, but the original bar remains and you can still come and pretend to have a drink with “Papa.”

The Prescription Cocktail Club (23 Rue Mazarine, http://ift.tt/14VKLuM) – From the street, all you see is a curtained window, but when you get inside, you’re reminded of a 1920s NYC-style speakeasy. True, this place didn’t exist in the 1920s, but if you’re looking for incredible cocktails and an ambiance and class that says “welcome to history,” slide up to the marble bar and enjoy a drink in this darkly lit bar with exposed bricks and old-fashioned furniture.

The Little Red Door (60 Rue Charlot, www.lrdparis.com) – Located in the Marais, this is another bar looking to recreate that 1920s speakeasy vibe. It’s easy to pass the little red door of a nondescript building that hides this beautiful small bar with brick walls, eclectic furniture, and amazing (strong) cocktails. While it lacks the true ’20s feeling of the Prescription Cocktail Club, it’s still a fun place to visit!

***As Hemingway once wrote, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” Paris has changed a lot since les Années folles, and while it will never be the same, you can visit the old haunts and — just for a moment — transport yourself back in time and imagine what it was like.

Recommended Books and Movies

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway

When Paris Sizzled: The 1920s Paris of Hemingway, Chanel, Cocteau, Cole Porter, Josephine

Baker, and Their Friends by Mary McAuliffe

Everybody Was So Young: Gerald and Sara Murphy: A Lost Generation Love Story by Amanda Vaill

Paris in the 1920s with Kiki de Montparnasse by Xavier Girard

Shakespeare and Company by Sylvia Beach

Flappers: Six Women of a Dangerous Generation by Judith Mackrell

Paris Without End: The True Story of Hemingway’s First Wife by Gioia Diliberto

The Crazy Years: Paris in the Twenties by William Wiser

Midnight in Paris, directed by Woody Allen

Photo credit: 4

The post How You can Experience 1920s Paris Today appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

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