Alright. So I know I have a request for a follow up for the last chapter, but I had a hard time writing it, and then this prompt came up. So there you go. Emma's six months pregnant, and Charming gets over protective.

Emma Swan hated being pregnant. She hated waking up needing to vomit all of her insides. She hated weird cravings. She hated it all. Well, almost all.

She was sitting in her parents' living room, her legs up on the table and a fan working just in front of her. God, why did it have to be so warm? Her hand was forming circled on her tummy, whispering soothing words. Her beautiful baby was performing a circus inside there, she was quite sure, and even though at first she quite enjoyed it, now it was just getting painful.

"Everything okay?" she heard her father say behind here, practically hearing his smirk.

"A cup of coffee. Can you make that happen?" she asked quietly, begging silently for him to say yes.

"You know I can't do such a thing. You're mother threatened my life".

She really wanted a cup of coffee. She'd been craving it for six months now, and she was pretty sure that between her husband, son and parents, her father was probably the safest bet.

"Please Daddy?" she asked, deciding to pull the big guns. It was maybe years after they'd discovered each other, but she still had her father wrapped around her little finger.

"Not fair," he said, folding his arms. "You know if I make that cup of coffee she'll ban me from seeing the future grandchild".

"Well, she's got no say in it," Emma replied, offering him a seat by her side.

David nodded thankfully, sitting by his daughter. "I'm not giving you coffee, Emma. Sorry".

"Fine," she answered through a pout. "But if the baby comes out with a coffee shaped birthmark, it's going to be your fault".

"I think I can deal with that," he laughed, his arm wrapping around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

"Okay," she said after a few quiet moments. "Seeing as I'm not going to get that cup of coffee, I think I'll go make myself a sandwich".

"Oh, you're hungry?" he asked, already getting up, "I can make it for you".

Emma sighed, looking up to where her father was now standing. "I'm pregnant Dad, not disabled. I can make my own sandwich".

"Don't be ridiculous Emma. Can't a man spoil his pregnant daughter?"

"You're just worried I'll fall or burn myself," she said, biting her bottom lip. She liked to tease him about it, but deep down she was grateful. As much as she didn't like to admit it, having a husband, an older son, a little brother and two parents was definitely better than a jail cell to keep her company for nine months.

"Come on, Princess. Just tell me what you want in it".

"Peanut butter and jelly please," she smiled. "And cut the crusts out, please?"

"Anything for you," he bowed slightly with a wicked smile. "Your Highness".

He turned around and walked into the kitchen, laughing as he heard her groan in frustration. Oh how he loved those relaxed moments with his daughter, when they were both just being themselves. It took them so long to get there, and he was just so happy.

He was halfway through making the sandwich when he heard her mumble something from the living room. Knowing it was meant for him, he placed the knife on the counter and turned around.

"What's that Emma?"

"Can you skip the jelly and just make it peanut butter? Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"No worries Princess," he laughed, closing the jelly jar and placing it back in the cabinet. He placed the already made peanut butter bread over another one, putting it on a plate. "Do you want some tea as well?"

"With cinnamon?" She asked hopefully, sounding so young in his ears.

"Of course," he promised, pressing the kettle on and taking out a mug and a decaffeinated tea bag. He opened the freezer, looking for the cinnamon sticks his wife bought the day before, taking them out and placing one in the still empty mug.

From the living room he could hear Emma starting to whisper soothing words again. He smiled to himself as he poured the steaming water into the mug and walked to the living room. "Is the baby kicking again?"

"Oh god," Emma breathed. "You have no idea. It's starting to really hurt now. I mean seriously, baby, do you have to kick the same spot all the time?" She pointed at her belly button, frowning slightly.

"Oh Princess, once you have to deal with crying at night, you're going to wish it had stopped with kicking," he smiled his Charming smile, gaining himself a roll of the eyes from her.

"Well, what do you think grandparents are for?" she giggled, leaning against him once he sat by her side again. "Thanks for the food by the way".

"Of course honey. What do you think parents are for?" He answered with a wink.

"Sometimes I wonder if you've made it your life mission to make sure your name suits you. I mean, seriously, Dad, that was such a Prince Charming thing of you to say".

"Oh honey, one day you'll realize that my life mission is simply make you smile. Whether it means I tell lame Dad jokes or give you my best charming pep talks".

He pulled her closer, kissing the side of her head. Looking up, she gave him a soft smile, closing her eyes and snuggling closer.

Yes, Emma Swan hated being pregnant. But one look at what she had now – her beautiful boy, her beloved husband, her wonderful baby brother and her amazing parents – was just enough for her. She knew this baby was going to come to a world full of love and support, and it didn't matter how she hated being pregnant. She already loved this baby so much, and with all the people around her who already loved it as well, Emma Swan knew it was going to be just perfect. And it was just three months and a week away.

Drop a prompt or tell me what you think?