#I'd really like to dress pretty and stuff tomorrow to see her c: SO I HOPE I'M NOT FUCKING SWOLLEN ANUMORE KFBRBR

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3198

today i slept in and i ended up showing my mom the dresses i got yesterday. she likes the lace one better than the off the shoulder one, which i fully expected. but honestly my favorite is the pink sundress that i didn't even try on yesterday - the girl at the register was pretty and tall and called me "friend" and i might've panicked a little bit but i looked at it and found a 3x and said "this one" and lo and behold it's perfect. it just doesn't have pockets.

i word the pink one today.

i stopped for gas and paid less than $3 a gallon and then i got orange juice on my skirt which i rinsed out with a bottle of water that i'd left in the car for a few days, which worked really well. and it dried before i even got to joel's because it got up to 78° today, and i drove around with the windows down because it was nice. i stopped at dunks on the way over for a coolatta and some donuts. good life choice.

d&d today was good - i even got to pay attention a little bit despite not taking my meds. we planned for and made it back to the abyss so we could find red's sister who we lost when we were down here originally to save helm. after a day and a half of shifting terrain and whipping sand, we found her! she had a half-snake companion with her and was a tad bit mad so before taking a long rest to regain my only 7th level spell slot to planeshift, i got rid of the madness and the snake lady mouthed "thank you" to me because she was getting SO fed up with the sister's antics. so we got spring (the sister) and made it to the river styx where the snake lady got in and floated downriver to her own level of the abyss where she needed to get back to so she could reclaim her rightful place on the throne after being wrongfully imprisoned. when it was out chance to make it across the river, we all had to pay a ferryman to get on his boat to go to the next place, which was to save our original ship's navigator from when we went there in the first place. thankfully neither of them were down as far as we went the first time, so it's a lot easier to get there. that's where the session ended.

after game, we decided on dinner and i went and grabbed it (we got diner food because it's what i wanted), and we enjoyed different things for which i realized i was very grateful. i love restaurants and stuff because they have so many different things prepared to cook and if you do that at home you make a bunch of one thing and everybody eats the same thing but i could have an omelette and some potatoes and joel could have eggs and french toast and john could get meatloaf and it was all good. i love the concept of restaurants and not having to eat the same thing as everyone else. not everyone likes the same things as i do so it's less painful to say "yes let me get this thing i know i like" as opposed to "i still don't like meatballs, i don't like that kind of salad, i still can't eat cucumbers, and bananas make my tongue itchy." i can worry about my diet without impacting what other people eat. it's helpful.

and when i had eaten my dinner and hugged joel, i headed home. but i stopped at dairy queen first for a chocolate cone and a root beer.

once home i just sat with my mom and i helped her by getting some things and i squished her feet and grabbed her new damp cloths so she would be a little comfier and i adjusted her seat so she could sleep as best she could. she still feels awful. i'm sad she doesn't feel good :c i hope she feels better for wednesday :(

and now i'm in bed and i am happy i was able to fully charge my devices today and i'm happy it's bedtime because i am very tired. good news is my shoulders hurt less. so that's good.

that's all. i'm probably gonna go see joel tomorrow at some point. got a lot of shit to do tomorrow. bleh.

[gatual]

I hope tomorrow my eyes are not swollen anymore bc Im supposed to meet a college friend from my old major and I haven't seen her in 3 years!!!!!!!! and I wanna look good for her :(

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

I Need You

A/N: This was found on Pinterest, so if you're the owner, let me know so I can give you the credits.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2 K

Requested by anons: 1- I'm like super in love with a certain Daryl Dixon and I was wondering if you could write about them getting into a big argument and they like avoid eachother for a while (super angsty if you care lol) and then Carol and Rick just kinda make yall talk and it ends fluffy? 2 - Can i request a daryl x reader where the reader’s been with the group since atlanta, maybe set during when they’re at the prison?? daryl realizes he has a crush on the reader and just p a n i c s ? and just really sweet fluff????

Summary: After you almost get bit, Daryl loses his mind and lashes out on you. Tired of the constant arguments, the group finds a way to out you two together to try and fix things up.

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

×

“Yer almost got bit!” Daryl shouts, voice echoing through the prison. “Yer too damn stubborn, yer not goin’ on runs anymore.” He has his back at you as you follow him, struggling to keep his pace.

“I had everything under control.” You complain, ignoring Carol's questioning stare.

You, Daryl, and Maggie went on a run earlier today. Not too far, just to get some more formula for Judith. A walker fell from the roof, and it happened to be on a specific place Daryl told you not to go. The thing's teeth got a little too close to your arm, and Daryl shot an arrow through its head.

“Ya sure did!” He stops, turning around and pointing a finger at you. “If I weren't near ya, I'd be carryin’ ya back here with a freakin’ bite.” His voice gets louder, and you never saw Daryl so... Angry. So pissed. He's scaring you. “Or would ya have me cut her damn arm off? How does that sound?”

“Stop yelling at me!” You burst out, giving his chest a push.

“I'll stop yellin’ when ya understand how stupid and dangerous that was!” He steps forward, towering over you and you never felt so small.

“We needed those antibiotics!”

“Well, I freakin’ need ya. I need ya alive! Alive and well and breathin’.” Daryl shouts, right at your face. But the moment the words come out, he stops, stepping back. He seems confused, taken aback by something. “Screw that, I need a break from savin’ yer ass.” And then, he leaves, walking fast.

Huffing, you turn around, going to your cell.

You take the longest shower you can, washing the sweat and all the disgusting things the dead left on your skin. But most of the time, you were already done, dressed, and dried. You just wanted to be away from everyone. But eventually, you have to walk out. And of course, Carol finds you on your way back to your cell.

“(Y/N), I–”

“Daryl is such an asshole.” You say cutting her off and dropping on bed. “Did you see that? Did you see how he yelled at me? As if he has the right to do so.” Getting back up you pace around.

“I just think–”

“You know what? He can go to hell.” Throwing both hands in the air, you complain. “He and his crossbow, and-and his super hot stare and the stupid angel wings vest. And the bike too. All it. Straight to hell!”

“Aren't you just–”

“Uhg! Damn it.” Crossing your arms, you sigh. “Did you hear him forbidding me to go on runs?” With your hands now on your hips, you stare at Carol. “As if! Who the hell does he think he is? My boyfriend? To hell with him.”

“Will you let me talk?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Shrugging your shoulders, you nod.

But she doesn't say anything, she just takes a deep breath and shakes her head lightly. “Look, why don't you calm down first, and then we talk.” Carol gestured at the bed and you sit down, sighing. “Good... Try to relax and deal with it after a good night's sleep.”

“I could sleep a thousand years and I'd still be mad at Daryl.” You mutter as she leaves, lying on your back with your eyes closed.

You don't know where all this anger comes from, but it's always there, waiting to flow out. You do care about him, maybe too much, but it doesn't mean he gets to yell and boss you around like that. “Asshole!” You shout one last time, arms crossing as you drown in anger.

“I saw it,” Daryl exclaims, pacing around the guard tower, breathing and talking fast. “I saw her dyin’. I saw that thing bitin’ her, tearin’ her flesh.”

“She's fine, Daryl. You don't have to keep thinking about it.” Rick tries to calm him down, both hands raised at the archer.

“No, ya don't understand.” It's useless though. Daryl is a mess. He got into the shower as soon as (Y/N) got out, rubbing the walker's blood out of his skin. But after that, he went straight to Rick because he needs to vent. He needs to yell and understand why he feels so damn scared.

Why he feels like a switch was turned on, lighting up something that was there all along, but only now was brought to light.

Losing anyone from his group, from his family would hurt bad.

But he just found out that losing her would be far worse.

“I her dyin’, man.” He slows down, both hands on his head. “I saw her dyin’ and–”

“You love her.”

“What the hell, Rick?” He snaps, a hand violently gesturing at his friend.

“You might not want to admit it, but it's true. You know it.” Rick nods, a hand casually resenting on his holster. “We all know it since Atlanta. She loves you too.”

Daryl grunts, turning his back at Rick. “Yer crazy. And so is she.”

“You should sit and talk like civilized people.”

“I ain't gonna talk to her. Crazy chick.” He mutters, grabbing his crossbow a bit tighter. “She ain't goin’ on runs anymore. At least not without me.”

“Daryl–”

“Gotta go.” The archer cuts him off, leaving the guard tower at a fast pace.

He didn't like the ideas Rick put in his head.

“Rick wants to make a room for Carl and Judith on the second floor,” Carol says as you climb the stairs next to her. “So we're cleaning up the cells.”

“Alright.” You don't really want to help. Not today at least. The nap you took didn't help much with the last issue, and you're considering going out tomorrow, just to clear your head a bit. “What do you need me to do?”

“We're just setting things up.”

“Mmm.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair as you follow her pace. Carol takes you to the very back of the corridor, to a pretty isolated cell. “You gonna put the kids here? This cell sucks. It's too–” You stop talking when you see Daryl inside, eyes-rolling. “Look, I won't help if he helps.” It sounds childish, but you don't care. You're far too pissed at the man to be near him.

“Look, I don't care if you guys argued.” Rick walks over you, friendly touching your arm. “You two just have to get your shkt together.” And you're suddenly pushed, almost stumbling inside the cell.

“What the hell?” You shout, but the moment you move, Rick pulls the bars close locking you inside. “Rick, drop it. I'm not joking.” Holding the bars, you shoot him and Carol an angry stare. “Open up.”

“There are blankets and dinner will be brought to you,” Carol says, arms crossed. “We did that because it's the only way to force you guys to talk.”

“Yeah. You'll have the whole night to figure out whatever has you both always at each other's throat.” Rick adds, sliding the key into his pocket. “Have a nice time.”

And like that, both jerks leave, talking something you can't hear. Sighing, you lay your forehead on the cold metal bars, not wanting to look at your company for the night.

“Yer can take the bed.” He says after a while.

“Obviously.” You're quick to snap. “It's your fault we're here in the first place.”

“How's that?”

“If you didn't come back from the run making a hell of a show about something that didn't even happen, we wouldn't be locked up in here.” Turning around, with both hands on your hips, you stare at him.

“If ya had listened to me, ya wouldn't have–”

“And why in the hell do I have to listen to you, Dixon? I know my way out there as well as you do.”

“ ‘Cause I jus’ wanna keep ya safe.” He's yelling again, stepping forward.

“Stop acting like I mean anything to you!” With a finger on his face, you move closer to him. You wish you could look intimidating, but being so small, that's very difficult.

“Maybe ya do mean somethin’ ta’ me! How could ya know that if ya never ask!”

“Well, I–” The answer is cut short when your furious brain processes what he just said. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you shrug your shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“Nothin’.”

“Daryl, what do you mean?” Raising your voice again, you follow him as he moves further into the cell. “What would you answer if I ask?”

“I ain't gonna answer.”

“Daryl–”

“I ain't gonna answer!” He shouts again, turning around to look at you.

Taking a deep breath, you sit on the edge of the bed, folding a leg under you. “Do you hate me?”

“What?”

“Do you hate me, Daryl?” Your voice is lower now because you do want to know.

He remains silent for a while, those blue eyes locked on yours. “No.”

“Then why–”

“I can't lose ya.” He bursts out, eyes now looking at the floor. “At that moment back there, I... I saw it happenin’. I saw ya dyin’, and I... I can't lose ya. I can't see ya gettin’ hurt.”

His voice is so low you can barely hear it. You've never seen Daryl so... Scared. Vulnerable. “You can't protect me all the time, Daryl. Accidents happen.”

“I can. I can keep ya safe if ya listen to me.” You're about to protest when Daryl comes to sit next to you, eyes on the wall across the cell. “I know ya can survive out there. But my mind works in a thousand different ways ta’ get stuff done without anyone gettin’ hurt. I need ya ta’ trust me. Ta’ believe I can keep ya safe.”

“But I need you to believe me too. To believe I can do this.” Turning your body towards him, you friendly touches his arm. “Daryl, I... I like you... A lot. And I admire you, I trust you. You taught me so much and I need you to trust me. I promise I'll be more careful, but I need you to–”

“Don't go out there without me.” He suddenly says, voice heavy. “I trust ya. Yer brave and strong. But if ya go out there and I can't keep my eyes on ya... I'll lose my damn mind.”

“Alright.” Nodding, you sigh, smiling a little. “Just don't yell at me again, Daryl Dixon.”

“Yer almost died and I... Damn it, (Y/N), –”

“I like you too, Dixon.” Standing up to your feet, you smile, looking down at him. “You don't have to say if you don't want to, just... Let's get this over with. The world is a freaking mess and if you like me and I like you we should be together.” You can't believe you're saying this, after so long. But it feels good. You feel good, secure. “Just let me know what you want.”

“Ya.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He nods, blue eyes locked on yours.

“Alright.” Mirroring his head movement, you clear your throat, cheeks burning. After a few seconds of silence, you walk to the bars. “RICK! CAROL! Daryl and I are dating now, can we go?” You yell, and the low chattering downstairs goes silent.

“Would it be so bad ta' stay locked in here with me for a night?” Daryl asks, and you turn around, biting your lip to hold back a smile.

“Absolutely not.” Shrugging your shoulders, you slowly move to the bed, climbing on and lying down. “I'm actually sleepy and it's cold so it'll be nice to have someone to warm me up at night.”

“Don't push it.”

“I'm not.” Giggling, you feel as he lies down, close enough so his shoulder is touching your back. “Night, D. It was good to sort things out with you.”

“Good night, pretty girl.” He mutters and you smile, eyes closing and sleep easily overcoming you, thanks to the amazing feeling of having Daryl lying next to you.

[let-it-raines]

Okay, now I know you're accepting prompts for the CMIYC verse, expect a whole lot of them coming from me 😂I'd LOVE to see Emma finding out she's pregnant, and her telling Killian, and just their whole journey through her pregnancy!

This isn’t going to cover everything you asked for @dorisquinn but I’ve got 2/3. You can send me all of the prompts you want. Honestly, seeing your enthusiasm as well as the enthusiasm of others to still want parts of this universe makes me so happy! You guys should see the timeline I just mapped out to make sure everything stays cohesive because I’ve got some more extras to write for you guys 🙈

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

March 2022.

“These boxes are never going to get unpacked.”

“We could have hired someone, you know.”

“I’m not even working full-time right now. There’s no need for us to have hired someone when all I’m doing is sitting at home.”

“You go to meetings…on occasion.”

“I have a meeting tomorrow. Stop making that look on your face, twenty-nine.”

“There’s not a look on my face, besides a handsome one.”

Emma huffs and falls back against the wall, sinking down onto the ground and pulling her knees to her chest. They should have moved as soon as last season ended. It would have given them more time to unpack the ridiculous amount of stuff they somehow accumulated over the past three years, but there was a problem with the closing and then the plumbing, and they officially signed for this place two weeks into spring training. Killian had to fly back from Florida for the paperwork, spent one night in the house with her where all they had was their bed set up, and then he went straight back to the hell that is Florida humidity.

At least they’re not there for months at a time in the summer. Everyone would die. It’s bad enough when they’re in Tampa for a few days at a time.

(Then again, humidity in New York in the summer is no joke.)

She could have flown down and stayed with him, already has for a few days here and there, but they need to get settled before the season starts and things get insane. Things are really never not insane, but there are definitely periods where there is a little more peace.

Off-season is undoubtedly her favorite season.

She loves baseball and the game and working almost every day, but having Killian home for months at a time and being able to sleep in their own bed instead of a hotel bed is so much better than anything else.

Emma definitely wants the off-season back.

And this house to be unpacked.

One of those things is more likely to happen than the other, and it’s not the house getting unpacked.

“I miss you,” Emma whispers into the phone.

“I miss you, love. You know you can fly down anytime, right? There’s nothing keeping you there. It’s been less than a week, but I miss you terribly.”

She flips the camera around to all of the boxes. “I don’t want to be living in chaos. I want, like, some kind of organization. I told myself that when I left my room key with you that I would not be flying back to Florida. I have to get this place functional.”“I know we’ve been married for nearly a year, love, but I don’t think you should be turning into me quite this quickly with all of that talk of organization.”“Technically, as far as everyone else knows, we’re only nine months into this whole marriage thing, so that’s not quite a year.”

“Specifics.”“Ruby was over here yesterday helping me unpack and found the pictures from the clerk’s office. I’m pretty sure she figured us out.”“I think David has known for awhile now.”“Why do you think that?”

“Just a hunch.”Emma groans and scoots further down on the floor. “If David knew, he would have said something.”“Aye, you’re likely right.” Killian smiles, his face slightly pixilated. “Come see me this weekend, Swan. I know you said no more flights, but maybe just the one more. I’ll take you to dinner. Wine and dine you and all that.”“I think there’s a third part of that proposition.”

Killian gasps and holds his hand to his chest. “Dirty.”

“You know it, twenty-nine.”

“I think you mean sixty-nine.”

“Oh my God.”

Killian chuckles and pushes his hair back. It’s too long again. He hasn’t gotten it cut in months, and as handsome as he looks, she’s desperately waiting for him to get it cut. Suggesting it hasn’t really worked out well for her, but if he likes it long, he likes it long. It’s not like she’d appreciate it if he told her to shave her legs or something like that.

“I’ve got to go to workouts, but I’ll call you again tonight, yeah?”

“I look forward to it. I love you.”“And I you, my love.”

The video lingers for a moment, and then it disconnects, only the memory of Killian’s smile there.

She misses him like crazy. It’s ridiculous and stupid and kind of annoying. Maybe she should go down and see him this weekend. It’s not like she has this weekend. Spring training is almost over, and she could wait it out. She really could. That’s what she’s told herself she’ll do, but should she if she doesn’t have to? Maybe if she gets enough boxes unpacked.

Hell, maybe she should just cave and hire people to do it for her, but she put up such a dumb fight when Killian suggested it that she doesn’t want to admit to failure now. Not that he’d ever truly judge her for it.

Okay. He’d judge her a little bit.

Her phone buzzes in her hand.

Elsa: You planning on letting me in?

Shit. The doorbell didn’t sound, and Emma didn’t hear a knock at the door. Quickly, she stands from the ground and kicks a box to the side before hurrying down two sets of stairs to get to the front door. She loves having more space than the apartment, but she doesn’t love all of the stairs. At least, right now. Soon she’ll hopefully kick ass at being able to walk up and down them quickly.

Hopefully her ass will look fantastic because of it too.

Damn Manhattan and its lack of space.

“Hey,” Emma greets after unlocking the front door. “Did you ring the doorbell?”

“I did.”

“Well shit.” Emma leans forward and wraps her arms around Elsa. “I guess our doorbell is broken too. Do you know anything about electrical work?”

“I know how to hook up our cable, but that’s about it.”

“Then what good are you to me?”

“I bring you donuts.”

“Bless you.”

“I know.” Elsa steps inside, closing the door behind her, and immediately walks toward the kitchen where she puts down the bag of donuts she’s carrying and then immediately starts looking around the room. “Have you unpacked any of the kitchen?”

“A few things. Mostly things I use. It’s all Killian’s, and he hasn’t really been here to tell me where to put anything. I don’t know his system as well as I should.”

“Do you have silverware out? Plates and bowls?”

“I have a few things but not all of it.”

Elsa sighs and pulls her shorts up and then adjusts her t-shirt. She took the day off to help Emma unpack, and, really, she should be lounging around watching TV or something. “I don’t mean to go all mom on you, but grab a donut. We’re about to unpack your kitchen. Then we move to your bedroom and your closet so you can at least function. Everything else will come later.”

“As long as I get a donut, this all sounds good to me.”

“You can have another if you finish this room.”

“I’m good with a bribe.”

“Incentive. It makes it sound less dirty.”

Emma laughs. “Deal.”

Elsa is some kind of unpacking machine. It’s actually ridiculous. She knows exactly how to store everything in their cabinets and the pantry, and while Emma is sure Killian will rearrange it all when he realizes it’s not to his specifications, after three hours, they have all of the kitchen boxes emptied. It’s practically a miracle, and Emma didn’t even need an extra donut to make her do the work.

(An extra donut is sounding really good right now, though. Elsa got the good kind.)

All she really needed was Elsa. If they had Anna here, though, Emma imagines the entire house would be finished by now. Well, if Anna wasn’t eight months pregnant. Mary Margaret would probably be the better choice, but she’s got a class full of third-graders to attend to. Ruby, however, would bring everything to a halt because she’d get distracted by the things she was unpacking.

They move upstairs and back to the bedroom after they’re finished in kitchen, and Elsa sticks to the bedroom while Emma works in the closet. She’s got some of her clothes up, mostly her workout stuff, and even though their stuff is boxed in a way that should make it easy to hang up several things at once, Emma keeps getting distracted trying to organize it in a way that’s not something she’s going to sustain.

Seriously. Who is organized enough to keep things sorted by color?

Killian. Killian is. He organizes his freaking t-shirts by how old they are.

The weirdo.

Emma finally decides to just do it by type of clothing, and after she’s gotten all of her dresses on the racks, she decides that she needs some kind of break. She did not sleep last night, and no amount of coffee could wake her up.

Has she even had coffee today?

Or maybe she’s simply bored by having to unpack. That’s a lot of the same thing over and over again, and all Emma really wants to be doing is watching Netflix.

Slowly, she slides back down to the ground and pulls out her phone again, answering her texts and then clicking on Instagram to move away the notifications. It’s all stuff Killian has tagged her in, and she quickly moves through the videos and memes before clicking on his page. It’s been mostly baseball lately, pictures of him, Will, and Robin, but if she scrolls a little further back, there are pictures of Liam and Elsa or Addy and Lucy. And then there are pictures of her. She mostly uses social media for work, but she does like to get on and see what Killian has posted. It’s usually something she’s never seen, and there are at least ten pictures on here that she had no idea were taken.

There’s one in particular that she likes the most. It’s from last November. They were in Portland for Thanksgiving sitting on the swing in Ruth’s backyard, and Killian snapped a photo of her drinking coffee, the sun glinting off of her skin in just the right way so that she looked tanner than she actually was.

My love forever, the caption reads.

That day had been…hard. It had been fucking awful, actually, but Killian had wrapped his arms around her and held her until it wasn’t so awful.

That’s what he does. He makes awful days feel that little bit better simply by being there.

She likes that, likes that she has that forever now.

My love forever.

She has had that love for awhile with David and Ruth, with her friends too, and while she doesn’t like to put some relationships over others, Killian does get the slightest elevation.

It’s good to have all that love. It’s healthy, and if someone asked her twenty years ago if she’d ever have any of this, she would have laughed in their face.

She can’t stop staring at the photo and all of the memories behind it. She had been so sure that morning, and it wasn’t…she wasn’t.

“Hey, Emma, do you have – woah, what’s wrong?”

“What?” Emma sniffles, wiping below her eyes. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You’re sitting on the floor sniffling and wiping your eyes. Those are pretty big clues.”

Emma scoffs. “I’m fine.”“You’re a liar.”“Els, I’m fine.”

“I believe you about as much as I believe Killian when he says that.” Elsa walks over to her to and slides down onto the floor next to her, kicking away a shoe and grabbing onto Emma’s forearm. “You want to talk about whatever it is? You know you don’t have to, but I’m a good listener. I couldn’t be married to Liam if I wasn’t.”

“Liam does talk a lot.”

“I think it’s a Jones family trait.”

“I think I might be pregnant.”

She might have that trait too for the way she just blurted that out.

Elsa gasps, and Emma braces herself for it just like she braces herself for it every time this conversation comes up. She’s the one who brought it up this time, but it was kind of inevitable when this is honestly all she’s been thinking about for two days now.

For a little more than two days if she’s totally honest.

“I didn’t…I’m not,” Emma stutters, trying to continue talking before she shuts herself up, “I never thought I would be someone who wanted a baby. I thought I was going to be alone for so much of my life, so when Killian and I decided to try and kept having these negative tests, I don’t know. I, well, it sucks, and it’s been really damn hard. It hasn’t even been a long time, and we’re still so young. I probably shouldn’t even complain because I know it’s harder for other people. It’s just that a part of me feels like I’ve gotten so much good in my life I was never supposed to get. What if this is the thing I don’t get? What if I have this feeling in my gut now because it’s some kind of sign that I should give up before my hopes get too high?”

“Oh, darling,” Elsa sighs as she wraps her arm around Emma’s back and pulls her toward her, rubbing her hand up and down her arm, “you can’t think like that. The world doesn’t give you a certain amount of good and then just stop. You can have more good than you think you deserve. I do. And that feeling of helplessness when it comes to getting pregnant and it not working as fast as you want? I’ve had that too. It’s what happened with Lucy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe Addison was going to be it for us, and we were like you two. We hadn’t been trying for a long time, but it could still feel hopeless when Addison was so easy. Getting pregnant is hard, and unless you talk to others like this, there’s no way you’d know. All you’d see is the happy announcements and the smiles.”

Emma turns her head into Elsa’s shoulder. It’s a good thing she’s not wearing mascara because she’d totally ruin Elsa’s t-shirt.

“So I’m not some kind of freak show for sitting in my closet freaking out about this?”

“Emma, having a baby, or even the possibility of it, is the most terrifying thing in the world. If you weren’t having meltdowns, I’d be concerned about you.”

“This is so not in my wheelhouse,” Emma mumbles. “I talk for a living, talking about this is…different.”

“Baseballs and babies aren’t exactly in the same category.”

“They are on Family Day.”“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”

Emma huffs and pulls away from Elsa, leaning her head back against the wall. “This closet is still such a mess. My shoes are everywhere.”

“Oh, I know. I think I’m going to need to borrow those wedges that are caught up underneath the pile of Killian’s jerseys.”

“They are yours to borrow.”

“Not to keep?”

“Nah, I like them too much for that.”

Elsa laughs and twists on the ground until she’s facing Emma, small smile on her face. “You’re going to be okay. You and Killian both. And if you ever need to talk, Liam and I are always here. Anna too.”

“Anna is eight months pregnant with twins. All she does is warn people against getting pregnant. I don’t think she’s ever going to have sex again.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Absolutely not.”

Elsa claps her hands together. “Okay, let’s conquer this closet, and then I’m taking you home with me for dinner so you’re not left in this house stalking your husband’s Instagram.”

“I was not doing that.”

“You totally were. I could see it on your screen when I walked in.”

“I’m taking away your shoe privileges.”

Elsa quickly gets up and runs over to the wedges, picking them up. “Nope. They’re mine now.”

-/-

She’s pregnant.

Or, at least, that’s what the three tests she took this morning said.

Emma had gone over to Liam and Elsa’s last night for dinner, and she’d forgotten about everything. She really had, and it had been nice not to think about it and to be able to know that her life was going to go on no matter what. She knew that. Logically, she did. Her life is not defined by what a pregnancy test says, but when it’s what you want…

When it’s what she and Killian want.

And they might get now.

Oh shit. She is not ready to give birth.

That’s not even happening right now, or in the near future, but it’s going to happen. Emma’s pretty sure it’s some kind of torture device designed to make being a woman even more difficult, but she’s got to stop thinking of that right now.

What she’s got to start thinking about is the fact that she’s in New York while Killian is in Florida.

Florida.

Shit. She’s got to book a flight to Florida.

She said she wasn’t going to do it, but that was before she knew for sure.

That was before.

Where the hell is her neck pillow?

Emma gets off the rim of the tub and walks into the bedroom, grabbing her laptop off the charger and stretching out on the bed while trying to find the next flight. There are a few this afternoon, but she’s got meetings she can’t cancel. There’s one she might be able to make around seven, though, and she quickly enters her information and books a one-way ticket.

She’s never been so excited to go to Florida.

-/-

“Can I get an extra key to room 835?”

“And your name is?”

“Emma Jones.”

The receptionist starts typing on her keyboard, looking up at Emma and then looking back at her computer, her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry. There’s not an Emma Jones in that room.”

“I know. It’s my husband’s room. It’s under his name. Killian Jones. It should be under the block of rooms for the Yankees.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t give you a key to that room. It’s our policy, especially when it comes to our VIP guests in our suites. It’s for their safety.”

Emma has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She’s exhausted. It’s been a long ass day, she sat next to someone who snored the entire flight down here, and all she wants to do is see Killian. Why the hell did she leave her key with Killian last week?

Oh, yeah, because she wasn’t supposed to come back.

“If I was some kind of stalker, how would I know his room number?”

“You would be surprised what people know.”

She sighs and pulls out her phone, clicking on Ariel’s name.

“Emma?”

“Ariel, can you get me an extra key to Killian’s room?”

“Are you here?” Ariel squeals before quieting. “Wait.” There’s a mumble and then the sound of a chair squeaking before Ariel’s voice comes back into focus. “Sorry. We’re out at dinner, and I had to move away from the table. This is a surprise, right?”

“Mhm.”

“That is literally the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You need to hear more things.”

“Oh, hush. I’ll call the front desk. We’ve got to be back soon anyways because I have to relieve the babysitter for Morgan, so it won’t be too long.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll probably see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I can’t wait, and I promise that my lips are sealed.”

They hang up, and the front desk’s phone immediately rings. The receptionist nods and smiles and is completely and totally nice to Ariel, typing in a few things on her computer as she avoids eye contact with Emma. Then the conversation is over and Emma is being handed a card.

“This works for both the elevator and the room. Have a nice night, Mrs. Jones.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, forcing a smile. She knows the woman was just doing her job, but it doesn’t keep her from being annoyed. She’s not about to be pissy with her though. “Have a good night.”

Grabbing her luggage, she maneuvers out of the lobby and to the elevator. She knows this hotel better than any other hotel in the country from how much she’s stayed here, and she easily makes her way up to Killian’s room, sliding the card in the door and sighing in relief that the clerk actually gave her a key that worked. She was worried that she wouldn’t.

Killian’s suite is clean, and Emma knows it’s not just because of housekeeping. The man is so damn particular about everything, and even though all she wants to do is curl up in bed and go to sleep, she opens up her suitcase and starts putting her few clothes away, making sure not to mess with any of Killian’s stuff. It’s what he would end up doing later anyways, and if she does it now, it’ll be one less thing he’ll have to focus on.

How the hell is she supposed to tell him that she’s pregnant?

That’s something she should have focused on for the flight down here, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to murder the man who was snoring next to her.

She’s going to be great at the whole getting no sleep thing.

Did she really want this? Did they? Are they crazy? What drives someone to want to have a baby? Yeah, they’re cute, but then they grow up and yell at you for telling them not to eat straight sugar for dinner. And she didn’t have parents. Well, she has Ruth, but she didn’t have Ruth for fifteen years. Killian’s mom died, and his dad is a piece of shit. What do either of them know about babies and being parents?

What do either of them know about kids in general?

Well, they do have nieces and nephews and friends with kids. Hell, their friends have had so many kids. It’s like in the past two years all anyone has done is pop a kid out and –

The door to the suite beeps, and Emma doesn’t even realize she’s been pacing for a long time until Killian’s standing right in front of her blinking with his mouth wide open.

“Hi,” Emma squeaks out.

It’s official. She is not herself today.

“Fucking hell,” Killian mumbles.

“Well, that’s always the greeting a girl – ”

Killian strides forward and cups her cheeks before pulling her to him with his mouth, sucking on her bottom lip before he starts moving and can’t seem to stop. It’s been less than a week. That’s all. It hasn’t even been that long since they’ve been apart. They make it a point to never go more than nine days, but she’s missed him more than she ever has.

Melodramatic and all that.

“What,” he starts, still kissing her, “are,” he continues as his lips move to her jaw, “you,” he sighs against her cheek, “doing,” he whispers against her eyelid, “here?” he finishes as his lips find hers once more while their foreheads rest against each other.

“I really missed Scarlet.”

Killian tilts his head back and barks out a laugh as his hands move from her cheeks to her biceps, squeezing them. Her stomach is absolutely swirling.

“God, I love you. You’re – ” He shakes his head, and his eyes crinkle. He’s gotten darker during training, and there’s the slightest tan line from where he’ll wear his hat backwards during pitching drills outside.

“I’m what?”

“Well, if I were to list all of the things you are, I imagine we’d be standing here forever.”

Emma scoffs and pushes at his chest before moving closer once more so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “Why are you the way that you are?”

“Charming? I believe I was born this way.”

It’s Emma’s turn to shake her head at him. She presses up on her toes and lingers until her breath is ghosting over his mouth. “I love you, twenty-nine.”

“Good. I love you, Swan.”

She finally kisses him then, and Killian slowly backs her up to the bed until she’s falling down on top of it. All thoughts leave her mind as his lips and his hands move over her, and they truly disappear when his mouth is between her thighs and all she can think is how damn good that feels. It almost always does, like some kind of magic that’s bottled between the two of them, and even when it’s not good, Emma knows that there’s no one she’d rather get lockjaw or really unfortunate cramps with.

And weirdly, as Killian swivels his hips and hits just the right rhythm, she knows that no matter how much she’s freaking out about everything, the two of them have got this.

“Did you know the front-desk clerk thought I was a stalker?” Emma asks later. They haven’t changed back into any clothes, and Emma can’t seem to stop twirling Killian’s chest hair around her fingers while his hand dances across her back, tracing familiar words there.

“Really now?”

“Mhm. I tried to get a room key, and she refused to give me one.”

“Ah, well, I have been having an influx of stalkers lately. It must be my devilishly good looks.”

“You’re never lacking in confidence, are you? Even when it comes to joking about something that’s not funny.”

“You would know more than anyone how that isn’t true.”

Emma leans down to kiss his chest before resting her chin there. The air conditioner clicks on, and a cold rush of air runs over Emma’s bare skin. Killian tugs the comforter up over a little more of her back, and they sit in silence as Emma starts counting how fast her heart is beating. If she doesn’t tell him tonight, she won’t sleep. It’ll eat at her until the morning, and with how exhausted she is from not sleeping two nights in a row, she really can’t afford another night without sleep.

She also hasn’t had coffee in days. That has sucked.

“Killian, I – ”

She stops when his finger traces her name into her back. “What is it, love?”

“Nothing,” Emma begins, even if she knows it’s everything. “It’s just…Killian, I’m pregnant.”

For the rest of her life she’ll remember that Killian stopped blinking for a few seconds too long. She’ll remember that his eyes are slightly red-rimmed from his own lack of sleep, and she’ll remember the way that slowly but surely his lips curl from a small smile to one of the brightest she’s ever seen from him.

“Are you? For real? I’m not imagining this conversation?”

Emma inhales and nods. “I think so. I wouldn’t be far along. Like, at all, so anything could happen. But my period is late, and I took, like, three tests this morning that were positive. Peeing on a stick never feels normal.”

Killian chuckles as his free hand comes around to tuck her hair behind her ear. He’s so gentle like that, and she doesn’t know what she did to deserve him. He can be hot-headed and impatient and ready to act on his anger instead of thinking it through, but at his core, Killian Jones is a good man.

“Aye, I imagine not.”

He leans down to glide his lips over hers, and even if Emma had imagined what it would be like to tell Killian they better start reading all of those books so they have some clue what they’re doing, she knows none of it would be better than this.

Calm and content and like they were always supposed to end up here.

“I love you, Swan,” Killian whispers as his hand shifts from her back to her stomach. “I don’t – thank you for being by my side for all of this.”“Always, twenty-nine. Always.”

-/-

-/-

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