Waiting for the Lights

summary: For as long as she can remember, Emma has waited for the day her life would begin. Ever since she was abandoned by Neal, their dreamcatcher has done the opposite of its job - caught the good dreams and given her the nightmares. Now, she finds herself stuck with Hook in a land she barely knows. Is it time for a new dream? (Inspired by Disney’s Tangled - the title is the name of my favorite score, and cheers to you if you spot any lyrics in this fic!)

Emma hears Hook’s voice somewhere to the left of her. “How are you faring, princess?”

Don’t call me that,” Emma snaps. She ducks her head to avoid a thick and gnarly tree branch and exhales frustratedly when a few strands of her hair get caught.

"Well, it’s what you are, isn’t it? Doesn’t every young lass dream of becoming a princess?" He chuckles once.

"Not everyone has the same dream."

There is a beat of silence. When she hears his voice again, it has taken a lower octave, a more serious tone, so different from his usual drawl. “And what was your dream?”

Emma automatically thinks of the dreamcatcher hanging in the window of Neal’s apartment room, catching the sunlight and reflecting its ornate patterns onto the wooden floor. Its promise to capture nightmares in its web and provide only sweet dreams? Bullshit. The years after losing Neal and giving up Henry had been the worst. She remembers that day in the motel when she had picked up the dreamcatcher that the previous occupants had left behind - the day that they had decided to move to Tallahassee, a dream that did not and would not come true, no thanks to the shit dreamcatcher. She exhales and finally replies, “To not be alone.”

Regret washes over her, for she is already feeling as if she has shared too much. She clears her throat. “What about you?”

For 18 years, Emma Swan had been alone. Abandoned, parentless and friendless, a loner of sorts trapped in her tower of a life: stuck in the middle of the world, but surrounded by no one who cared for her. She lost count of the nights that she had spent staring out of a window, dreaming of the day that she would find someone. Years passed by and she found herself celebrating birthday after birthday alone, wishing upon a star that perhaps next year, it would be different. Every night until she turned eighteen, she stared out of her window, wondering when her life would begin.

Until she met Neal Cassidy.

He was her dream come true, in the form of a man with soft brown eyes and a warm smile. Though she could hardly call their first encounter “love at first sight,” she knew she was in love. Or so she thought. She threw away everything for a new life together in Tallahassee, the name of a town which was synonymous, to her, with the word “dream.” This city symbolized the day that her life would start.

Yeah, right.

Let’s fast forward ten years.

Neal Cassidy is the son of Rumpelstiltskin. Oh, but Neal is dead, because he was shot by Tamara, his ex fiancée (if anyone had just fuckingbelieved her, maybe none of this would have happened), who not-so-secretly makes out with Greg, the creepy dude who tweets pictures of himself and ran over Hook with his car. She has an eleven-year-old son named Henry, who has the same brown eyes as his father and just so happens to be the adopted son of the evil queen who is responsible for her loneliness for all of 28 years. But Tamara and Greg have kidnapped Henry and taken him to Neverland for God knows why, so now, she’s allied with a 300-year-old pirate with a hook for a hand. Oh, and did she mention, he can’t seem to keep his eyes to himself?

"Shouldn’t you focus on where you’re going?" Emma snaps as she uses her sword to clear the path in front of her, feeling as if his gaze is going to burn holes into the back of her jacket.

"That’s where you’re wrong, lass. I know this land like the back of my - " he waves his hook in the air for emphasis and smirks.

She suppresses a groan and rolls her eyes. Doesn’t he get sick of that joke? He’s used it for the third time already that day. She swears he has a notebook somewhere in his cabin, where he jots down sexual innuendos and hook-related jokes to use on other people.

Sighing, Emma curses herself for agreeing to partner up with Hook. When David (though she’d said it once before, she still couldn’t bring herself to call him Dad) noted that traveling in a group of six was inefficient, she had suggested splitting off into pairs. And of course, she had been paired up with this leather-coated imbecile. But then again, someone had to keep an eye on him.

She continues to kick her feet frustratedly as she walks through the green forest, swinging her sword to cut at the annoying vines that block her way. At one point, Hook calls her name, but she ignores him and continues to walk farther away from his voice. She is about to step into a wide clearing, when suddenly, he appears from out of nowhere and grabs her wrist. He quickly shifts to hide in between two big trees, pulling her with him, so that they are safely hidden behind the thick shrubbery.

They are facing each other, their bodies standing not even an inch apart, so close that she can hear his soft breathing and feel the heat radiating from him. She defiantly opens her mouth, ready to let spill some inappropriate curse words, but he places his hook gently, yet urgently, on her lips. He widens his eyes and shakes his head slowly, signaling that they must be silent. But why?

Emma flinches when she hears a loud roar that shakes the forest and sends chills running down her spine. Ah. That’s why. Whatever is out there, it’s big and it’s scary. Anxious, she bites down on her lip hard, breaking skin, and filling her mouth with the rusty taste of blood. She looks up at Hook, who is gazing away, toward the location of the beast. She can’t help but notice how close in proximity their faces are.

At that moment, he turns to look down at her, and their eyes meet. Her heartbeat quickens and her mouth turns dry. When his eyes dart to her lips, she snaps her head away.

They wait there with bated breath, for what feels like eternity, until they finally hear the sound of retreating footsteps and distant rustling leaves. Then silence. Hook exhales slowly, his warm breath feathering on her cheeks, and Emma is suddenly aware that his fingers are still wrapped around her wrist. She attempts to shake free, but his hold on her is firm. Instead of letting go, he pulls her closer so that she has no choice but to look straight up at him.

He is glaring, his eyes gleaming dark and dangerous, piercing hers. He lowers his voice frustratedly, “Why didn’t you come to me when I called you?”

Emma purses her lips defensively. “Excuse me?”

Hook narrows his eyes into angry slits and growls, “This land is filled with creatures that may look friendly, but are quite murderous. Soplease, darling, stick with me if you don’t want to be killed.”

"I can take care of myself, darling, thank you very much,” she retorts. She snaps her wrist down and successfully escapes his grasp.

She is about to slip out of their hiding space, when he suddenly raises his hand to cup her face. Her breath catches in her throat as he runs his thumb over her lower lip, grazing it. Almost immediately, he lets go of her.

He raises an eyebrow and rubs his thumb against his index finger. “Your lip is bleeding, lass. Wipe it off, lest we become prey tonight.”

Without another glance at her, he squeezes out of the tight space. Huffing in annoyance, Emma wipes her mouth on her sleeve and shakes the hair out of her face. She follows Hook from between the two trees and crosses her arms over her chest, her tongue tracing the raw skin on her lip. Annoyance tinges her tone. “Can we get moving already? We haven’t made much progress today.”

Hook nods curtly and starts to walk. “Follow me, love. I know this path well.”

Now it’s Emma’s turn to raise a disapproving brow. “That’s the path the animal - or whatever the hell it was that we were hiding from - took. See the flattened leaves on the ground?”

Hook leans back a little to look at her. His dark eyebrows shoot up in infuriating surprise (in that moment, she wants nothing more than to rip them off of his face), and he slowly scratches the side of his head. Gazing at her with an unreadable expression on his face, he turns and starts toward the opposite direction. “Right you are, lass. Come. Let us move forward.”

She turns to follow him and steps directly into a muddy puddle. She curses under her breath and scowls. Her hatred for this world is overwhelming. She understands now why it’s called Neverland: because a land like this should never exist.

The unlikely pair trek farther into the forest, which is now so thick and green, they can barely see each other. It has been silent between them for almost an hour now, which is not so uncharacteristic.

Emma hears Hook’s voice somewhere to the left of her. “How are you faring, princess?”

Don’t call me that,” Emma snaps. She ducks her head to avoid a thick and gnarly tree branch and exhales frustratedly when a few strands of her hair get caught.

"Well, it’s what you are, isn’t it? Doesn’t every young lass dream of becoming a princess?"

"Not everyone has the same dream," she frowns.

There is a beat of silence. When she hears his voice again, it has taken a lower octave, a more serious tone, so different from his usual drawl. “And what was your dream?”

Emma automatically thinks of the dreamcatcher hanging in the window of Neal’s apartment room, catching the sunlight and reflecting its ornate patterns onto the wooden floor. Its promise to capture nightmares in its web and provide only sweet dreams? Bullshit. The years after losing Neal and giving up Henry had been the worst. She remembers that day in the motel when she had picked up the dreamcatcher that the previous occupants had left behind - the day that they had decided to move to Tallahassee, a dream that did not and would not come true, no thanks to the shit dreamcatcher. She exhales and finally replies, “To not be alone.”

Regret washes over her, for she is already feeling as if she has shared too much. She clears her throat. “What about you?”

There is no response. It is so silent, she is convinced that he hadn’t heard her question.

"I don’t know." A quiet reply finally comes from behind her. He must have stopped walking. "I didn’t have any."

"Everyone has got a dream." Emma furrows her brow.

"Well, what’s the point?" His voice is unusually light. "They don’t come true anyway."

Emma falls silent. “Then you’ll have to find a new dream, I guess.”

It’s the only response she can come up with.

It is twilight, and Emma can barely see her own hands in front of her. The two of them mutually agree to continue searching in the morning and attempt to find a place to make camp. They walk until they arrive at a flat-grounded clearing.

"Are we going to be safe here?" Emma asks hesitantly.

"Of course we are. Especially if you’ve got me to protect you," Hook glances at her, a boyish grin curling up on his lips. She rolls her eyes in response. She places her hands on her hip and looks around.

"I’ll go get some wood for the fire," she declares.

"No." His face suddenly hardens. "If we start a fire, we’re going to attract unwanted…guests…"

Emma raises her eyebrows questioningly. He immediately attempts to lighten the atmosphere. “If you get cold, Swan, you can always lie beside me.”

She smiles sarcastically, a big fuck you etched onto the features of her face. “Thanks, but I’d rather not.”

She sits on the ground and slowly lies down, frowning as she feels the pebbles under her back. When Hook moves to lay next to her, she exhales in exasperation. “Really? We have all of this space, and you’re going to lie down here?”

He stays where he is and folds his hands under his head.

"Why? Does this bother you?" He moves to prop his head up with his hand, lying on his side to face her. His smirk reaches his brightening and teasing eyes. He drawls, "I find that most women rather enjoy this."

Emma sighs. She closes her eyes and folds her hands onto her stomach. “Just go to sleep.”

She hears a light chuckle.

Minutes tick by, then hours. Emma lies there, unmoving, unable to fall asleep, afraid of nightmares. She stares up at the sky and can’t help but notice that the stars in Neverland are so much brighter than they are at home. She inhales sharply when she notices that some are lined up in the pattern of a dreamcatcher, a constellation that makes her heart feel hollow. She closes her eyes and sees flashes of green behind her eyelid, hears Neal’s last words to her. Her eyes fly open.

Refusing to watch the stars any longer, she turns to lie on her side and sees Hook there, sleeping.

At first, she is annoyed. Hadn’t she asked him to sleep farther away?

But as she watches his sleeping figure, she softens, just a little. The moonlight is shining on his face, his eyelashes casting long shadows on his cheek and giving him the appearance of innocence. The frowns and smirks, seemingly permanent on his face, are smoothed out. His face is soft and boyish, the most peaceful she has ever seen him.

She doesn’t know when, but she falls asleep just like that, watching him.

Raindrops are falling mercilessly on her face, her hair, her body. Emma wakes up, sputtering. When she turns to suggest to Hook that they find other shelter, she realizes that he is gone. She rubs her eyes and then crosses her arms over her chest, pulling her coat closer to her body in a futile attempt to keep warm.


No response; only the sound of water hitting the ground.

She scrambles up to her feet so fast, her head spins. “Hook!”

Thunder echoes in the air and lightning suddenly flashes across the land. The precious seconds of light slip away and once again, the world becomes consumed with the darkness of night. All she can see are the shadows of the forest, which look so much more terrifying in the twilight. She begins to run.

By now, Emma is completely drenched. Her clothes stick to her skin and her feet are soaked. Her teeth chatter, her hair hangs in muddy strands around her face. She is panting, her frantic breaths puffing out between her thin lips in small white clouds.

"Hook!" She screams into the rain. She looks around her, so rapidly that her hair flies into her face. She shouts his name again, desperation inching into her voice.


She hears it. A faint voice. She sprints, without a second thought, toward the source of it, nearly tripping over a boulder in the process. “Hook?”

"Over here."

She whirls around and sees him leaning awkwardly against a tree.

Emma runs toward him, her hands clenched into fists at her side. When she is standing in front of him, she inhales slowly, just about ready to punch him, scream at him for making her worry. Just then, she realizes that he is pressing a hand to his stomach and breathing raggedly. She pushes his hand aside and replaces it with hers.

When she draws her hand back, lightning flashes, and she sees that her hand is covered in dark red.

Her head snaps back to him. “You’re hurt!”

"I’m fine, love," Hook grunts, attempting normalcy. He tries to walk, but staggers backward and falls against the tree. His hand immediately goes back to the wound in his stomach and his breathing becomes rapid.

Emma hurriedly grabs his upper arm and helps to lower him, so that he can sit. He leans against the tree trunk and turns his face toward the sky. The raindrops begin to wash away the mud and blood that is streaked across his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, forming crinkles at the sides.

"What happened?"

He grits his teeth. “I was attacked by one of the Lost Boys.”

"The Lost Boys?" Emma wrinkles her nose in confusion. "The little orphan boys who wear animal skins and follow Peter Pan around?"

Hook grimaces. (Or is he smiling?) “Again, Swan, the tales you know are child’s play.”

He chuckles until a violent cough wracks his chest. He raises his hand to cover his mouth and coughs. When he brings his hand back, it is covered in blood. He hurriedly attempts to hide it behind his back, but Emma has already seen it. Her face pales.

Pursing her lips in determination, she starts to unbutton his vest, which covers the injury.

He grabs her hand. “Don’t.”

She looks at him, puzzled. She furrows her brows.

"It’s no use." He murmurs almost inaudibly and his eyelids flutter slightly. Then, as if attempting to cover up what he had just said and lighten the atmosphere, he grins and clears his throat. He makes his voice louder, stronger. "Save it for later, Swan."

"Are you really flirting at a time like this?" Emma asks incredulously. She shakes her head in disbelief and pushes his hand aside to continue unbuttoning his vest. She pulls it open to reveal a dark and sticky mess, surrounding a cut in his skin so deep that she can see bone. She inhales sharply and closes her eyes. She opens them soon after and reaches to unravel the scarf from around her neck to wrap around his wound.

Hook hides the injury with his arm and nods his head weakly at Emma. “Put it back around your neck, lass, you need to stay warm.”

"Hook, let me help you," she growls, impatient and frustrated with his noncompliance.

Though his face is pale and bloody, his eyes are gleaming and piercing. “Just leave me here.”

His words catch her off guard and she blinks a few times. She must have heard him wrong. She asks dubiously, “What?”

"You need to find your son, and you’re not going to do that with me here, slowing you down."

She turns to him furiously, her eyes flashing a dangerous shade of green. “You’re not going to die, Killian Jones. I won’t let you.”

At the sound of his name, his eyes flutter open in surprise and his mouth opens slightly, as if he has forgotten what he was about to say. He then immediately recovers, shaking his head. His eyes shine oddly, as if he knows something that she doesn’t. His lips curl up slightly on one side, in a twisted half-smile. “Who said anything about dying?”

She exhales slowly before turning back to him. Calmer now, she lowers her voice. “You’re going to be all right.”

Hook turns to gaze at her, his voice a warning. “Emma.”

"I’m going to help you. You’ll be fine. I promise. We just need to take you to Gold," Emma says immediately, her voice loud and confident, so much stronger than how she really feels. Fear and anxiety makes her ramble, the words providing a temporary distraction from reality. "He’ll know what to do. He probably has a potion or magical thing to make you better and - "


" - and if that doesn’t work, Regina should be able to fix you. Since I don’t know if Gold would help you, given your guys’ backstory, so - "

"Emma!" Hook exhales impatiently.

"What?" Emma exclaims in frustration, glaring at him questioningly.

"Look at me." His face is pale and his breath is rapid and shallow, but his eyes shine with an unmatched brilliance and brightness. "Look at my eyes."

She holds his gaze and it isn’t until then that he begins to speak.

"I did have a dream once," he admits finally. His voice is growing weaker, hoarse and breathy. The pain brings out his accent. "To find a family."

He reaches up to tuck a few wet strands of hair behind her ear, never taking his eyes off of hers, as if afraid that he would lose her if he looked away. His fingers linger near her cheeks. Her eyes search his, and she sees nothing but truth. “I gave up on dreams a long time ago. Until you.”

"My dream - " he snatches his hand back to cover his mouth as he coughs, wincing at the resulting pain. His eyes squeeze tightly shut and his chest moves up and down rapidly. "Youwere my new dream.”

"Were?" Emma’s voice cracks. She grabs his blood-covered hand and holds it tightly between the two of hers. Lightning strikes, so that she catches one more glimpse of his impossibly blue eyes, which are now cloudy. Distant.

"Hook, I … " Emma’s words fall short; she doesn’t know what to say. Or rather, she doesn’t know how to say it. She looks down at her tightly clasped hands.

"Thank you," he murmurs. He closes his eyes and his grip on her hand slowly loosens. She snaps her head back up and she forgets how to breathe for one second. No.

"No. No, no, no," she mutters to herself. "Hook?"

He lies there, back propped up against the tree trunk, streaks of rainwater revealing his skin under the mess of blood and dirt on his face. His cold lips are slightly parted, but no breath escapes them.

She shakes his shoulders, softly slaps his cheeks, tightens her grip on his hand. No response. Tears pool in her eyes, blurring her vision, and they threaten to fall down her cheeks. “Wake up. This isn’t funny!”

She laughs, a broken and empty laugh, refusing to believe. She half expects him to open his eyes and bark out a laugh, murmuring, “Did I fool you, lass?”And he would make a joke about his goddamn hook and she would roll her eyes. After all, he was a survivor - a pirate - was he not?

But this is no fairy tale. They may be living in a realm where magic exists, but this is still no goddamn fairy tale.

Her tears finally spill out, mixing with the rainwater and cold sweat that dot her face.

She had jeered at, punched, even despised Hook. But he had been the first, the only, person in her life who had understood her. It made her feel uncomfortable, scared even, but in a world where she felt alone, having someone like him had given her hope. Hope for what, though? If her heart had been broken before, it was shattered now.

First Graham. Then Neal. It was as if her dream would never come true. Perhaps in this world of magic and curses, she was cursed to be alone forever.

"Don’t leave me alone," she whispers. "Please don’t leave me. Come back."

She places her head on his chest and lets the tears fall freely, the sobs wracking her chest. “You were my new dream, too.”

She places her hand on his chest, where his heart is, where it beats no more. She leans down and cradles him against her, and as she cries, her tears fall onto his face. With shaking hands, she lies him down on the cold ground. Stealing one more glance at him, she leans to kiss him on his forehead. She lets her lips linger on his cold skin, and then backs away. She buries her head into her arms, sobbing. Suddenly, the rain stops and the world seems to light up with a million colors, as a raw wave of power seems to wash over the land. The wind blows at her hair, and she looks up curiously. Cautiously.



She immediately grows quiet and her sobs succumb to hiccups. Her head snaps up, her breath in her throat, and she whirls around to face Hook. He is stirring slightly and opens his eyes. He sits up, wincing and rubbing the back of his neck. When their eyes meet, his seem to become brighter, stormier yet clearer.

The sky rumbles with thunder, the mysterious lights disappear, and rain resumes falling.

He reaches to wipe her tears with his thumb, but she violently pushes his arm aside.

"What the hell was that?!" she shouts, her hair flying into her face as anger consumes her. She scrambles to get to her feet and angrily wipes her cheeks with her sleeves.

"What?" It is Hook’s turn to be angry. Sarcasm colors his tones and his face hardens, as he too, stands up. "Oh, what, you mean my death?"

Emma pushes him. Hard. Still weak, he falls back against the tree trunk.

"I don’t see why you’re so angry about this," he hisses, his eyes flashing. "I’m alive now, aren’t I?"

He looks up at her, his eyes searching hers. “You heard what I said, Emma.”

Emma scoffs. Every time she has given her heart away, it’s been broken, without fail. Just when she had thought Hook would be different, he had gone and died on her. The walls building around her heart are now steel, impenetrable.

She tries to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, that load of crap?”

"You know I spoke no lies.”

Emma remembers the uncharacteristically soft and desperate gaze in his eyes. And how he had asked her to look at him one last time. For this very reason.

"Well - "

Hook interrupts her angrily. His voice is growing stronger. “Why is it, darling, that when someone tells you the truth, you still refuse to trust them? Why is it that you can love me when I’m dying, but once I’m alive, you deny everything?”

"Nobody said anything about love," Emma says. She laughs, attempting to sound incredulous and disbelieving, but it is empty.

He raises an eyebrow. “I heard you, Emma.”

Her mouth opens and then closes. “What do you mean you heard me?”

Hook shrugs and smirks slightly. “It’s quite difficult to explain to one who hasn’t experienced death.”

Really? She crosses her arms. “Try me.”

"When I … died … everything turned dark. And then there was a curious white light." He frowns as he recalls it. "I could see the light, but nothing else. But I could still hear your voice. You said - and stop me if I’m wrong, love - something about me leaving you and me being your new dream. That sounds like love to me."

Emma flushes and is automatically thankful for the darkness. She clears her throat. Two can play at the game. “Don’t flatter yourself. You probably only heard what you wanted to hear.”

His face darkens and his eyes grow stormy. “Why do you push away anyone who loves you, Emma?”

Her heart jumps to her throat. She furrows her brows as she tries to come up with a response. “Because whenever I do, they leave me.”

He laughs humorlessly. “But don’t I always come back?”

Emma is struck by the sudden truth of this question.

"Darling, you need to learn to trust - "

"Stop telling me what to do!" Emma is screaming now. Her emotions have gotten the best of her; she is overwhelmed. She is crying again, and curses herself for it, but she can’t stop. Her tears and the rain make it impossible to see.

"Oh, is that what I’m doing?" Hook retorts, his voice a loud roar. Thunder shakes the forest. He raises his tone, "All I’m doing, Swan, is making sure that you know - "

He is cut off suddenly as Emma wraps her fingers around his hook and pulls so that he falls toward her. She wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him closer to her, and without a warning, crushes her lips to his. One hand moves to the back of his head and pulls tightly at his wet hair; the other caresses his jaw. Hook’s breath hitches in his throat and he immediately responds, kissing her back, his lips moving heatedly and violently against hers.

They are both angry, furious at each other, and they are taking it out on one another with their bodies.

He is gasping, his breath hot and sweet, warmth surging throughout her body despite her soaked clothes. His hand brushes her cheek and then tangles itself in her long golden hair. His hooked arm snakes around her waist and pulls her closer to him. His tongue parts her lips and she sighs.

When they break apart, they are both breathing heavily. His blue eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen.

"What was that for?" His voice is low and hoarse, teasing.

Emma flushes despite herself. “To shut you up.”

Hook smiles slightly before he finally says, “Well then, lass, I may never stop talking.”

She glares at him pointedly and then turns her gaze to her feet.

"Thanks for coming back," Emma says finally, without raising her head.

Hook shrugs. “It was you who brought me back, lass.”

It is silent for a moment.

"You know, for the record, I like Killian Jones better than Captain Hook."

Hook turns to her and their eyes meet. He seems to physically soften, and a small smile tugs at his lips. “You’d be the first.”

At that moment, Emma glances up at the stars in Neverland, and sees for one second, the stars line up like the dreamcatcher that Neal had kept. And when she blinks, it is gone. Her old dream is past her now. She has found her new one here. From Tallahassee to Neverland, people find their dreams in the most unexpected of places.

The sky is turning pink at the edges, the light colors slowly taking over the dark purple in the sky. The rain is now a soft sprinkle. It’s like the sky is new, as if the world has somehow shifted. All at once, everything looks different.

He clears his throat.

"Now, let’s go find your boy," Hook says. He climbs onto a big boulder and reaches his hand out to Emma. She glances at his fingers and is reminded of that day on the beanstalk, the time she had left him, something he had never done to her. And this time, she takes it, allowing him to help her up.

"We’ll find him Emma, trust me," he repeats, as if trying to convince her.

"I know we will," she tries to smile, shakily. "And I do. Trust you, I mean."

He gazes at her for one long moment before continuing along the rocky path. Emma looks down and realizes that he hasn’t let go of her hand. She looks back up and walks beside him. She doesn’t say anything. Warmth surges throughout her body and hums through her bones. He interlaces his fingers in hers.

And at that moment, the two hard-hearted people, one princess and one pirate, begin to believe in dreams again.

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    Love the tangled references all over this!
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  8. ilovehookandemma said: i love this!!
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