killipan-jones hat auf deinen Eintrag geantwortet âBtw. Iâve never been a fan of Benedict Cumberbatch ,but he was kind of...â
Give in
I will!

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from India

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Thailand
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from China

seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from China

seen from India
seen from China

seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Senegal
seen from Thailand

seen from Norway

seen from Poland
seen from Australia
seen from Sri Lanka
killipan-jones hat auf deinen Eintrag geantwortet âBtw. Iâve never been a fan of Benedict Cumberbatch ,but he was kind of...â
Give in
I will!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
killipan-jones replied to your post: justalilblondemama replied to your pho...
Have we talked about how I live in fort worth? I feel like we have.
Yeah, for sure! I remember!! I was just in FW not too long ago...we went to Joe T's and went to see JB and the Moonshine band at Billy Bob's. My good friend grew up with JB so we go see him when we can. I always love going to FW! SO FUN!
Hello Wisconsin citizen! Stay warm! -- Love, Texas
AWWWWW THANKS<3 ILU.
I was secret santa for Killipan-Jones. Now, real quick, a few things. 1) I tried to do the prompt "Emma makes her decision." But this fic turned out to be a stretch on that topic. It does involve Emma "choosing" but not directly Neal vs Killian. Hope that's okay. 2) The main part of this is when Killian tries to get Emma to remember everyone while they're in NY. After a few failed attempts at writing this, it had more humor than anything else, but I hope you enjoy it. 3) I couldn't fit any Christmas stuff in there so you get a bonus Christmas themed epilogue at the end. Basically, I hope you enjoy your gift and Merry Christmas. ^_^ (Under the cut because it is very long)
âTrust me, Emma.â They had been shouting for nearly five minutes now and she was growing more incensed with each one. Her nostrils were flaring; her eyes were like daggers as this guy stood in front of her holding up some glowing liquid that he expected her to drink. It was the strangest thing that had ever happened to her and while she knew that New York might be full of weirdosâŚthis was something else. What irked her most was that he didnât seem to be lying.
She should have walked away right then. Thatâs what logic called for. They were standing on an open street, people walking by, she could try to lose him. Again. Or she could lead him right back to the police station and leave him there this time. All those seemed like the reasonable choices. However, she hesitated, staring at the glowing shot glass in his hand.
âWhy?â She let the words slip out on an exhale. She locked eyes with him, intensity in her stance. âWhy should I trust you?â
The blue in his eyes was impossible. She thought as much when he had first knocked on her door. Now she was doing her utmost not to focus on how it seemed familiar to her. How could any part of him seem familiar?Â
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
 âYouâve done nothing but harass me. Youâve followed me. You somehow knew where I lived and instead of talking like a normal person youâŚâ Anger at the memory made her words fumble. She still felt a strange flutter in her chest when she thought about it, while the sudden kiss had been entirely inappropriate and unwelcome; it had been no less thrilling. âYou kiss me? Who does that? What kind of person does that to a total stranger? And now you want me to trust you. Or, you seem to think I should trust you, but I donât get why. Are you actually insane? Should I be looking for the men in white jackets to come running around the corner at any second claiming youâve escaped?â
 âYou are right, love.â He admitted, his posture slackening from when they had been shouting. Now he seemed calmer. âI have given you no reason to trust me. Not in your memory.â
 âAnd the memory thing? Really?â She gave him a deadpan stare, finding this part of his story the hardest to believe. âYou think I just forgot what, eleven years? Come on.â Her memories were the only thing she had. They were real, she was positive about that. People donât just get their thoughts rewritten. This wasnât a movie. Though, he did look like he stepped off a Hollywood set. Or a comic con.
 He smiled, shaking his head. âTough as ever, lass.â
 Emma snorted. âOkay, the whole pirate thing, Iâm not buying it. No one talks like that.â
 If he was offended by that, it didnât show. Though she would freely admit he didnât look like a simple cosplayer. I mean, he even smelled the part. LikeâŚall sea water and leather. Sheâd caught a whiff of it when heâd stolen that kiss from her, she didnât smell him intentionally. Even if she would have expected it to be a bad smell it wasnât.Â
 âRegardless, I am telling you the truth.â  He was earnest as ever. There was no feeling in her gut telling her to run. No warning bells sounding the alarm. Which was probably the most unnerving thing about him. It was like she already trusted him. Which, obviously, was stupid.Â
 When she rolled her eyes, not quite denying that she was sort of considering believing him, he stepped toward her. Instantly she was on alert. Her body moved to a defensive position instinctively, baring her strong side forward and her feet spaced even with her shoulders. If he tried anything heâd get a punch in the face, let him try it. He seemed to find her reaction humorous, mirth dancing in his eyes as he held up his hands in peace. âI understand that you have no reason to trust me, but at least take this.â He held out the bottle, the contents still triggering her defensives. Strange guys offering you strange drinks? Giant red flag. âYou may choose to drink it or you may choose to toss it aside.â He added, still holding it out to her.Â
 Emma studied his hand, not making a move. âOh, I am definitely tossing it.â
 He chewed his lip, trying to hide amusement and failing. âIf that is what you wish.â Giving that to her, it wasnât the right move. Given the choice, hell yes she would toss it. Sheâd drop it down the nearest gutter. YetâŚshe still hesitated to take it. His eyes lowering, his voice taking on a different tone that was not at all appropriate for the situation he added, âBut then you might never be certain.â
 âCertain of what?â She asked before she could stop herself. Her hand stopped inches from the bottle. She should take it and throw it as hard as she could. But that bastard was playing some type of game here and now she had to hear the rest of it.
 The smirk he gave her was not fair. Not fair at all. Devilish and smug as shit. âYou might never know if I am telling the truth.â Was he trying to make this enticing for her? Um, no. Not going to work. âYou can prove me wrong right now. Just drink it.â A challenge then. Okay, that was working to tempt her. âOf course, love, if canât handle itâŚI understand. Itâs a hard truth to accept. I donât blame you in the slightest.âÂ
 His words were getting under her skin. Of all the crap heâd said so far, this was the first time she was considering it. She should drink it. Just to wipe that smile off his face. But that was stupid. The dumbest thing she could do. âHow do I know itâs not poisoned? This could be anything. No one in their right mind would drink something handed to them by a stranger.âÂ
 âSo I tracked you down so I could poison you in the middle of this crowded street when I might just as easily have killed you on your front door?â He was stepping closer again, but she remained rooted. He wasnât going to break her stance, she could handle him. She was sure of it.
 âThen youâre trying to drug me.â
 His words were low, his face much closer now than she liked. âRight, and then I just throw you over my shoulder and cart you off? Iâm sure no one would question a pirate walking down the sidewalk with an unconscious woman on his back. Your arguments are growing feeble, love.â She couldnât see their hands any more, heâd stepped too close to her, but she could feel him pressing the small bottle into her palm. âItâs your choice, Emma.â
 âIâd be insane to drink this.â She protested, more for herself than for him.
 âOr youâre starting to doubt yourself.â He had stepped away, giving her much needed space after handing her the bottle, but he was still close.  He was staring down his nose at her, a look that made her shiver, though it should have made her uncomfortable. âYour mind is telling you Iâm a liar. You donât want to believe me. But what is your gut telling you? What do you really think?â
 âIâŚâ Emmaâs eyes betrayed her doubt. She wasnât sure anymore. There was no part of her that believed him and yetâŚeverything he said sounded right. âI donât know.â She spoke firmly, teeth clenching. Why was she still holding that damn bottle? She lifted her head and locked eyes with him again because he was definitely right about one thing. Her gut told her to trust him. âWhen I drink thisâŚâ she held up the bottle, âwhen I drink this and nothing happens, youâll stop with all this? Youâll leave me alone? No more following me. No more trying to kiss me. No more showing up at my door?â
 âOn my honor.â He said with complete sincerity.
 Emma scoffed. âHonor. Okay. Sure.â Honor didnât hold much in the twenty-first century. But she was pulling the stopper out of the bottle anyway. A puff of smoke burst from the top, falling in a thin cloud around her hand before dissipating in the crisp air. âOkay, thatâs not normal.â She sniffed. âWhat exactly is this?â
 âItâs a potion that will bring back your proper memories.â
 She eyed him, âRight. My âproperâ memories. The ones where, apparently, a pirate straight from a novel thinks itâs okay to kiss me.â
 âWell, you hadnât complained the first time.â Her eyes snapped toward him, not liking what his cocky grin suggested.
 Raising the bottle to her lips she hesitated. âI guess Iâm insane.â Emma tipped her head back and threw down the potion like a shot. âSon of a bitch.â She was crying out before she even swallowed it all. Whatever it was, burned and tickled all the way down. Crashing down her throat and making her cough. She bent forward, heat spreading through her limps, surging with her blood stream before rising straight to her head. Her eyes were shut tight and she thought, for just a second, that she had been poisoned and was about to die. For an instant, she was truly terrified.
 Then everything stopped. The ground stopped tilting beneath her feet. The heat in her blood cooled. The throbbing pain in her head subsided and then a hand was helping her up. She felt an arm under her elbow and she clung to it, thankful for the support.
 âEmmaâŚ?â His voiceâŚshe knew that voice.
 Her shoulders were sagging, feeling heavy as she caught her balance and stood on her own.Â
 âEmma? Emma, whatâs wrong, love?â The worry in his voice made her smile. Her eyes turned from the ground, following the lines of his coatâthat damn coat, did he ever wash it?âand then she met his eyes. âHook.â
 She spoke with clarity and suddenly she was back on the edge of Storybrooke. Saying her goodbyes. Seeing the family sheâd finally found for the last time. And there had been Hook, the last one to say goodbye. And she remembered.Â
 They must have looked odd. Two people, one dressed as a pirate, the other in modern clothes, standing on a sidewalk staring into each otherâs eyes like the cover of a romance novel. But for a few minutes they couldnât be bothered to care.
 âYou found me.â She said, the words feeling familiar and yetâŚsheâd never said them before.
 âDid you doubt I would?â
 Emma felt her eyes welling and she hid her tears by throwing her arms around his waist. For a second, she was the only active participant, her chin resting on his shoulder as she just breathed. Then his arms pulled her in, one arm over her shoulder and the other at her side. She felt his hand in her hair and his cheek pushing against her ear. Emma didnât know why she was crying. Or why sheâd decided to hug him for it. Her memories were still coming back, not all of it clear at first. What she did remember was how he had always made her feel. Maybe not specific moments, but flashes of emotions that she associated with him. It felt right, regardless of why.
 Killian was the one to pull away first, though he didnât seem happy about it. He looked down into her eyes, clearing his throat. âAs much as I hate to spoil the mood, there isnât much time.â
 âRight.â Her face broke and her heart sank. âWait, the reason youâre here. What happened? Is everyone okay?â
 âNo.â He answered honestly. She nodded, the truth, though still harsh to hear, was comforting. She felt like she could rely on him like that. To tell her what he needed to. Emma pulled away fully. Her body wanted to put motion to the thoughts racing through her head. Sheâd always been a woman of action. âWhen I left, things were grim but not without hope.â
 âWhatâs happened?â
 âReginaâs made a few too many powerful enemies. This one I had only known in name until now. The Witch of the West.â
 âLike Dorothy and Oz, Wicked Witch of the West?â It took her a second to realize that with her proper memories came the fairy tale name dropping. Because Captain Hook was telling her that the Wicked Witch had done something to her parents, Snow White and Prince Charming, and even now it all sounded strange. It would be a while before she got back into the flow of things. Wicked Witch. Regina is the Evil Queen. Snow and Charming. Got it.
âShe hails from Oz, yes.â He answered, though he didnât seem to understand she was talking about the story and not the actual place.Â
 âOkay.â She put a hand to her head, remembering now that she was the savior. She had to defeat evil witches, and Peter Pan, and even a dragon. âOkay. Still playing catch up here. So where do we need to go? Back to the Enchanted Forest? Do you have a portal?â
 âNo. Weâre driving.â She had started walking back to her apartment without comment. It was just where her feet carried her. âThey are in Storybrooke.â Killian finished as he fell in step beside her.
 Emma stopped, grabbing his arm. âI thought Storybrooke was gone?â
 âWell, now itâs back.â
 She shook her head. âIâve missed a lot.â They reached her apartment building quickly and she was fast walking through the lobby and heading for the stairs. âSo we drive back to Storybrooke, then what?â
 âIâll explain the plan on the way. For now, we should focus on Henry.â
 âHenryâŚâ Emma hesitated again. In all the thoughts crashing through her head, she hadnât had a second to think. âDamnit, Henry. I drank that entire stupid potion. How are we going to get him to remember?â She took the stairs two at a time until they reached the third floor. At least it was a Sunday which meant he would be home. She got to her front door and fumbled with her keys, knocking at the same time. âHenry? Open up. Itâs me.â Shit, the knock. Emma stopped fighting her keys and knocked a familiar sequence on the door. There was a responding knock from the other end and then locks were opening. A trick she had taught him so they could always be sure it was safe. In New York, you could never be too careful.
 âHey, kidââ Emma had started to walk in, her focus everywhere at once, but then she saw Henry and it all stopped.
 âWhatâs up mom? Whoâs he?â
 Emma ignored the question. Henry. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes, but she wouldnât let them fall. Her lips were a tight line and her hands were trembling.Â
 âMom?â
 It wasnât real. None of it. This life they hadâŚall those memories of his childhoodâŚthose werenât hers. She hadnât been there for any of it. The reality was that she had given him up. His first steps werenât real. His first words werenât real. None of it.
 âMom. Whatâs wrong?â
 âWhat?â Her voice came out in a sob, but she sniffed and collected herself. âSorry. I justâŚâ She bent to his height, running a shaky finger over his forehead, pushing aside his bangs. âIâm sorry, Henry.â
 âUhâŚâ Henry looked at her like her head was on fire. âSorry for what? Mom, whatâs going on? Youâre scaring me.â Henry kept sending Killian curious glances over her shoulder, eyeing his clothes with a raised eyebrow. The scene had to look strange to him. He had no idea just how normal this all was compared to how his life usually went.Â
 âItâs a long story Henry. ButâŚyou have to go pack.â
 âPack?â
 âYeah. Weâre going on a trip.â She wiped her eyes, standing. She could put it off for now. Telling him could wait. She would figure something out. âGo on, get your suitcase. And pack warm clothes. Extra pairs of everything. And at least two jackets.âÂ
 She was pleased to see Henry roll his eyes at her. At least the last year had been real. All that time sheâd been fussing over himâŚat least she retained that much. âYeah yeah. Extra stuff. Two jackets. But where are we going? And, more importantly, does this mean I donât have to go to school tomorrow?â His grin suggested that he was more excited about missing school than the trip.
 âYeah, I think school will be on hold for a bit. Just get your stuff, Iâll explain in the car.â
 Henry fist pumped the air, half running to get his things. He stopped at the table, turning around and resting his elbow on a chair. âIs the pirate coming with us?â
 âYeah. Heâs coming.â
 âCool.â Henryâs grin was wide, always taking things with a smile. He disappeared toward his room, hopefully listening to her and packing properly. Though he was getting to the age where he didnât want her hovering over him to double check.Â
 Emma was about to go and grab her own bag when Killian stopped her. âAre you alright, love?â
 âI will be.â She felt her nerves settle. Seeing Henry had rattled her, but she couldnât afford to let it bother her. She had things to do. The savior didnât get time off. âThis is better. Reginaâs memories werenât real. So. I mean. Nothingâs really been lost right?â Even she didnât believe that. But sheâd sort it out. Sheâd manage. Sighing Emma left to go get her own things together. She had a lot more stuff now than she had when she first when to Storybrooke. Having a kid had made her life more stable. She grabbed a few things she needed, fresh clothes and the like, and then went back out to see Henry chatting with Killian.
 âYeah, your costumeâs impressive. The leatherâs all real?â Henry finished a pass around Killian, his arms crossed as he nodded in approval.
 âNaturally. Iâm glad you approve.â
 âTotally. I mean, Iâve seen people dress up, you know, around Halloween and all, but this beats anything Iâve seen before.â Henry grinned. âDo you have a sword? Is it real?â
 âOh, aye. Itâs real enough. Sadly, your land has rather strict rules about weapons. When we arrive at our destination, I can show you.â
 âAwesome.â Henry turned, grinning at Emma. âMom, I donât know where you picked this guy up, but I like him.â Henry grabbed his suitcase.Â
 âGet your shoes, weâve got to go.â Emma said, eyeing Killian before following Henry to the door. She made him grab a scarf, gloves, and tried to get him to put on his hat, but like always, there was a debate.
 âYour ears will get cold.â Emma stated, holding out the perfectly nice hat sheâd bought for him last year.
 âMom, Iâm fine. And the hat messes up my hair.â
 âI donât care about your hair, Iâd rather you still have ears.â
 Henry huffed. âMom. Iâm fine. I can take care of my own ears. Please. Youâre embarrassing me.â Henry glanced over at Killian, quickly before looking away. His cheeks were starting to turn red and she realized, once again, that he was getting older. âIâll be in the car.â He threw open the door and started lugging his suitcase into the hall. Emma was smiling to herself as she left.
 Killian was about follow Henry out the door, but she pulled him back. While packing, she had considered something that she wanted to address without Henry overhearing. Emma checked that Henry was out of ear shot before turning back to Killian. âI just want to askâŚwhere weâre goingâŚis Neal there?â
 Emma could see his heart sinking, all that light that had been there when he found her fading like it was on a switch. âHeâs there.â
 Emmaâs glare was hard as she met his eyes. âOkay. And I was asking for Henry. Not for me.â She snapped. If Henry was going to see Neal, and if they couldnât get his memories back, it might pose a problem. As for the obvious spark of jealousy, Emma was a bit offended. She looked away before adding, âAs far as Iâm concerned, youâre here. Heâs not.â
 âIf he could have come, Emma, he wouldââ
 âNo.â Emma stopped him cold, her voice unforgiving. âNo. Youâre here. Neal isnât. I donât give a damn why. To me, thatâs enough. Because when you loveââ She paused, not entirely sure what she was implying, but she continued anyway. âWhen you care about someone, thereâs never a reason to not be there. So. Thatâs it.â
 âFair enough.â His grin nearly had her smiling with him.Â
 Emma rolled her eyes and was about to continue before stopping once more. âWhen you first got hereâŚwas thatâŚdid you try True Loveâs Kiss on me?â
 Killian scratched at his head, looking a bit sheepish. âIt was worth a try.â
 âUh-huh.â She nodded. It wasnât really the time to be thinking about it, but the fact that he had tried itâŚthat he thought it might work. That meant something. That wasâŚactually a pretty bold gesture. Bolder than anything heâd ever tried. The implicationsâŚshe cleared her throat. âWell. Sorry for kneeing you in theâŚyeah. Sorry.â
 âI might have deserved it.â He commented, half in jest. As he helped her with her small bag through the door way, passing by her shoulder to clear the frame, she pulled the door shut and locked it.
 âNo. You didnât.â She said it under her breath, walking quickly after Henry and cursing that he hadnât waited upstairs for them. Getting Henry packed into the car was a bit of an ordeal. He needed his chargers, his power inverter, his iPod, headphones, his cell phone, his DS, and snacks. Once Emma got him situated, when he was lost to the word wearing headphones and scrolling through his cell phone, Emma shut the door on him.Â
 âKids.â She sighed, shaking her head. âHeâs killed my car battery three times with all that stuff. I remember when he was happy with just a book.â Emma frowned, crossing her arms.
 âWell, to be fair, heâs much older now.â
 âYeah, and living with me meant he got all the modern twenty-first century amenities. Kidâs glued to that portableâŚDS or whatever.â For a second they stood, Emma leaning against Henryâs door. They both seemed to want to say something, but were holding back. When he made the decisive move toward the passenger side of the car, Emma caught his sleeve.
 âIt means something to me.â She started. âThat you came for me. It means a lot.â
 He didnât quite meet her eyes when he replied. âTruthfully, love, it was mostly a selfish move.â
 âOh yeah?â She leaned in, grinning, almost flirty.Â
 âHad your parents not needed me to find youâŚI donât think I could have stayed away.â He confessed, not missing the subtle inflection in her voice. âI kept my promise. Every day. There was not a second that passed where I didnâtââ
 Emma threw her hand behind his head and pulled him down, crashing her mouth over him. She stood on her toes to reach, lips firm on his as a sigh worked up her throat. Her back hit the car door as he drew her in, matching her and then surpassing her. The way he was breathing her, drawing her in, it hit her that he had spent this entire last year looking for her. Waiting. She had been blissfully ignorant, but he had felt every second pass. When he attempted True Loveâs KissâŚheâd only do that if he believed it. If he loved her.
 Emma was drowning, needing to pull away for air, though she was wonderfully content to keep kissing him if they had had the time. His eyes were still closed as he pressed his forehead against her. She was grinning, ear to ear, all the way to her eyes. Sheâd wasted time before.  Time she would never get back.
 âOh my gosh, mom. Are you serious right now?â Henryâs voice carried through the window. Apparently, heâd noticed them making out against it. âGross.â Emma laughed. She wouldnât be a mother if she didnât embarrass her son every now and then. She hugged Killian closer, not letting him pull away.
 âWhen this is overâŚâ She was breathing heavy, her heart still racing. âAsk me out to dinner.â
 Killian looked into her eyes, trying to find the joke. âWhat are youââ
 âYou heard me.â She said, pulling away. They still had a lot to do before any of that could happen. âWhen this is over. When weâve got everyone safe and together. Ask me out.â
 âIf the lady insistsâŚâ
 âI do.â She said, opening her door as he crossed to the other side. âSo. Is that a deal then?â
 âAs you wish.â
 âGood.â Emma got into the car, still grinning. There might always be some new danger to face, that was just how life was going to be. But losing an entire year, having her memories altered, the time sheâd spent with Henry, it made her appreciate the time when things werenât going to hell. Her father had tried to tell her something like that after Neverland. She hadnât listened then, but she understood it now. What was the point of surviving the bad times if you didnât get to enjoy the good times? Emma had her priorities, she knew what she had to do and she would do it without argument. But in those rare moments of peace, she was not going to let good things slip away. Not anymore.Â
-0o0-
Snow gathered on the windowsill. It was dark and the glass was clouded at the edges, fogging from the heat inside. The apartment was warm, hot even. All the cooking on the stove and use of the oven had brought the temperature up. Emma pulled out the baking sheet, looking at the last batch of cookies that she and Henry had been attempting to make.
                              âOkay. These ones donât look too bad, huh?â She set them in some open space on the stove and removed the oven mitt.
 âBetter than the last ones, for sure.â Henry pointed to the edges. âSee, theyâre only just starting to brown. Thatâs a good sign.â
 Emma bobbed her head, feeling confident. âSo, three out of five. Iâd say thatâs not too bad.â
 Henry looked up at her, not wanting to break her heart. âSure, mom. Three out of five isâŚpretty good.â
 Emma frowned. âOkay, so Iâm not Regina when it comes to cooking, but I never claimed to be.â
 âI know.â Henry smiled and he used the spatula to lift up one of the cookies. Emma scolded him.
 âHey, they have to cool.â
 âUm, theyâre better when theyâre hot. Trust me.â He blew on it and took a bit, most of the cookie falling into his hand, melted chocolate smearing his lips. âMmm. See. Theyâre gooiest when theyâre fresh from the oven.â
 Emma eyed him, but it did look good. She pulled off the apron protecting her clothes and shook out her hair. âWhew. Itâs hot in here.â It seemed pointless to wear a sweater at the moment but the harsh winter would cool the place down soon enough. âWhereâs your dad?â
 âChecking on Morgan.â Henry licked his fingers, his face a mess.
 Emma listened, her ears trained to the sounds of cries, fussing, and discontent. She traveled up the stairs, fingers tracing over the lights and wreath twined around the railing. She could hear no sound from upstairs as she traveled. Her nerves shot up, racing with all the negatives that silence could mean. Only a few of the positives were registering as she gently opened the door to Morganâs nursery.
 âShh.â Killianâs eyes went wide, his free hand reaching out. He held his breath. They both did. But when no sound came from the sleeping baby, they released it. His arms were full and he was pacing around the room. Lowering his voice to the dullest whisper, he said, âpacing put her to sleep, but Iâm afraid to put her down.â
 âIf you get her used to sleeping like that, sheâll never learn on her own.â Emma commented. Morgan was a fussy sleeper. It was usually hours before they could get her to bed. Walking her might work for now, but even a five month old could seem heavy if you were carrying them for hours.
 âIâve lost all feeling in my left arm.â He said, confirming what Emma already knew.Â
 âYou canât hold her all night.â Emma said, offering to take her from him. Killian hesitated, his eyes drawn to the tightly closed eyes and squished face the only visible parts of the baby in his arms. The rest of her was wrapped tight in a pink and white blanket. After a second, he relented. But as careful as they were, switching hands had proved too much a disturbance and Morganâs shrieks reached full volume in minutes.
 âOkay.â Emma soothed, swinging her arms side to side, hoping to calm Morgan down. âThatâs enough crying. You need to sleep.â Emma rocked her as she prepared a spot in the crib. She plucked out all the extra blankets, not wanting Morgan to pull them and smother herself, and lifted out the toys from earlier. Once it was clear she gently laid her down. Morgan was furious. Screaming even louder and choking every few wails. Emma leaned on the crib railing, her hand still resting on Morganâs stomach. âShh. Itâs okay, sweet girl. Weâre here. We wonât leave.â
 âSheâs as stubborn as her mother.â Killian commented from Emmaâs side. He was flexing the muscles in his arm where they had cramped from holding the baby.
 âAnd as noisy as her father.â Emma retorted. They stood with Morgan, together, waiting for her to calm herself. It was torture, allowing her to cry and not interfere. Twice Killian had broke and tried to pick her up again, but Emma had been firm. If they gave in now, they would regret it later. Emma found some comfort in the incredible pout he exhibited over being overruled. Killian was often quick to spoil Morgan, and Henry, though Henry was much older and less influential. The night was wearing on, minutes felt like hours as they waited for the cries to settle. Slumped together on the floor under her crib, they were beginning to drift as the cries turned to sniffles and then there was silence.
 They exchanged a look, peering behind them to check and confirm that she was sleeping. Morgan was breathing evenly, eyes closed and face red, but asleep. They crawled, rather than walk, from the room and Emma eased the door shut. Once it clicked in place they both took a grateful gulp of air, not worrying about the volume and let their back fall against the walls. She could sleep right there and be content all night.
 âShe asleep yet?â Henry asked, having watched them crawl from the room and fall over without noticing him. He was wearing a smirk, but the tired parents didnât care. Heâd learn one day. Some day heâd have one of his own and heâd have to crawl out of a room on all fours. Just, hopefully not for a long time.
 âYeah.â Emma and Killian stood up, exhausted.
 âGood. That means you both can help me.â He grinned, turning and marching back down the stairs.
 Emma laughed, but it was forced and drained. âOne down.â
 âOne to go.â Killianâs hand was on her shoulder as they followed Henry downstairs. The main lights had been turned off, now just the soft glow of Christmas lights from the tree and the windows and decorations to see by. It was soothing, calming. Henry had the TV on and a movie paused on the title screen. He set up a tray of the cookies that survived, a plate for each of them, and three glasses of milk.Â
 In that year of living in New York, Emma and Henry had assumed a Christmas tradition of staying up late Christmas Eve to watch old movies. In reality, they had only done it one year since their memories had been fake, but Henry wanted to keep the tradition alive.Â
 âI picked âItâs a Wonderful Life.ââ Henry said. He was nearly fifteen now, but still excited for Christmas.
 Emma was exhausted.  Killian was trying to soothe a kink in his neck. Both of them only wanted to fall into a mattress and not have to wake up for at least five hours. Just five hours of straight sleep. Emma put her head on his shoulder, watching Henry race around the living room to get the blankets and pillows together.
 âWhen Morganâs old enough, she can watch too. Iâve got the movie all picked out for when sheâs about three or four. Then she can start appreciating them.â Henry bounced in his seat, waiting for them to hurry up.
Emma sighed. âIâll get us some coffee.â Killian sat next to Henry, taking the DVD case and looking it over. âThis any good?â
 âOh yeah.â
 Killian eyed him. âThatâs what you said last year. During âA Christmas Story.ââ
 âTo be fair, not liking âA Christmas Storyâ is like treason. Iâm pretty sure thereâs a law.â Emma sat next to Killian, holding two warm cups of coffee as she tucked her legs under her.
 âHeâs right.â She said, as Killian frowned. âItâs a classic. You canât hate it.â
 Movies had been something of an adjustment for him. He enjoyed them well enough, but occasionally he missed the point entirely. âAgree to disagree. I did not care for it.â
 Emma and Henry exchanged a look as Henry hit play. âWell, this one is good. I promise.â Henry sat back and they all got comfortable as the movie started. The coffee had helped, but neither parent could make it to the end of the film. They were snoring lightly, heads fallen together by the credits. Henry threw a blanket over them before heading to his room. For a long time the apartment was quiet. They slept soundly as Christmas Eve turned into Christmas Day and both Emma and Killian received their Christmas wish. To sleep for more than five hours.
The hunger games
Yess thank you! But before I start, I feel like I should clarify: I saw the first movie before I read any of the books, so the majority of my first impressions and stuff comes from there⌠I donât know how different it would be if I read the book first but I feel like this is important.
1. The first character I first fell in love with
Haymitch I think.
2. The character I never expected to love as much as I do now
Umm⌠the guy who was Coinâs right hand man in Mockingjay, I forgot his name⌠he turned out to be one of my favourites of the entire series.
3. The character everyone else loves that I donât
Peeta and Finnick. Argh this is horrible and I feel like I need to explain: I disliked Peeta in the first movie because he did some questionable stuff that were never properly explained, and I just didnât get how he is supposed to be a hero, and why does everyone ship him with Katniss. Then I read the books and of course I get it now, but still, first impressions are a strong thing and whenever I think of Peeta, I get a little uneasy.
And Finnick, well, you can âblameâ Tumblr for that⌠after more than a year of reading about how Finnick is amazing and the best character ever and how people canât wait for Catching Fire solely because Finnick will be in it, well, my expectations were just a little bit too high⌠and when I finished reading Catching Fire, I was like, wait, that was it? I mean I liked him overall and he had some great lines/moments but far from the awesomeness I expected. Iâm very sad about this because I want to love him like everyone else does, and hopefully Sam Claflinâs performance will help me with that, because from what Iâve seen of him on Tumblr, heâs brilliant.
4. The character I love that everyone else hates
I donât know⌠Iâm not THAT into the fandom to know what everyone else loves but I have a sort of connection to Katnissâ prep team⌠I feel for them and I hate how they were always written off as shallow and stupid.
5. The character I used to love but donât any longer
I canât think of anyone.
6. The character I would totally smooch
Haymitch. Whaat? Yeah. And the Sam Claflin version of Finnick.
7. The character Iâd want to be like
Katniss in some things, like her strength and courage and resourcefulness. And then in other things Iâd hate to be like her. See below.
8. The character Iâd slap
Coin. Iâd slap her so hard. And Katniss, but only when sheâs being dumb. âOmg I canât believe Peeta is really in love with me and not just for the show, this is unreal! And WHY does Plutarch keep showing me his Mockingjay stuff, I so donât care about Capitol fashion.â⌠yeah.
9. A pairing that I love
Not exactly love it but some time ago I came up with Gale x Johanna, I think they would be a good fit.
10. A pairing that I despise
Despise is a strong word but I just canât get on board with the Katniss x Peeta ship. Iâm sorry :(

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
killipan-jones answered your post: what kind of vibe should ...
dark sad shit that makes me want to stab things and cry over their dead bodies
okA Y
killipan-jones said: My sister is in the same stage with her scans, where itâs good news because itâs getting clearer and clearer but sheâs bummed because she has to have scans forever. Best wishes for your mom!
I know, it must be terrible to have scans that often. But at least the cancer is going away, that's all we can ask for! Best wishes for your sister as well. :-)
harmoniousescapades said: I pray that her cancer goes away. stupid mutated cellsâŚ
Thank you âĽ
Welcome to the Captain Swan fandom!
Thank you! They will be my undoing!