#pregnant!reader

Arataki Itto (streamer Itto, 235 words)

He legitimately thought you got pregnant from you two holding hands and you had to explain it, his mind was blown

Itto was slightly confused why you stomach wasn't immediately really round and again, you had to explain, but afterward he was very helpful

Despite being a massive dumbass, Itto tries to be as helpful as possible, gladly providing you with whatever you ask for, especially when it comes to snacks

He tries to keep a little quieter when he's streaming instead of shrieking at the top of his lungs

He immediately (attempted to) set up the nursery and the crib somehow ended up looking like a table (he took everything apart and watched a video to do it correctly)

He got a bunch of silly outfits for the baby, a damn oompaloompa onesie, a little start onesie (not with stars on it, one that made the BABY into a star), et cetera

Itto wasn't sure why sometimes you'd cry and then be happy 5 minutes later, but whenever you were crying (or when you weren't, actually) he'd stop in the middle of whatever he was doing and give cuddles

When the baby was born he was freaking out because a lot of times people don't trust him with babies, but now this was his kid and he could hold them whenever he liked

He's airheaded, but he's a good dad

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Ayato Kamisato (Politician as normal, 280 words)

Ayato wasn't surprised when you told him you were pregnant, he knew you two hadn't exactly been careful as of late, so it was to be expected

He did a good amount of reading on pregnancy and babies because truthfully he wasn't aware of much of any of it (he was delightedly surprised that you could still drink bubble tea [although with modifications])

Ayato immediately took the opportunity to set up baby monitors, and (even though the kid probably wouldn't even be using ipads until they were like 3-5) parental controls on some of the devices in your house

He takes more of his work meetings over Zoom so he can stay at home with you as you get farther along and he can check on you and be around

Back massages are a constant especially as you become more pregnant because he likes to sit and watch trash TV with you, and he just takes the opportunity to relieve you of some physical stress

He didn't get a bunch of silly baby clothes, because he knew the baby would probably grow out of them in a few months, but he did get a little baby hat with a boba pattern on it

He'd baby proof the house when you were around 6 months, because he'd decided it's better to do something early than to do it later, especially knowing one, how lazy he himself could be, and two, both of you would probably be reallly tired with a baby in the house

When the baby was born he immediately gave them the silly little boba patterned hat and then gifted you a matching (adult sized) blanket as a surprise

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Gorou (Military general as normal, 287 words)

Gorou was ecstatic when you told him you were pregnant, like genuinely bawling his eyes out but he was reallly really happy, he couldn't help it

Immediately he tried to pass a little workload to his lieutenant generals, because he desperately wanted to spend time with his pregnant partner

He took more meetings instead of being out all day, discussing intelligence reports and budget managements over video conference, and occasionally with his camera off, to give him the chance to sit on the couch with you in pajamas

He bought all sorts of stuff back for you whenever he was forced to go on trips, more than he usually bought back. Snacks from Mondstadt, maternity clothing from Liyue, teas from Chenyu Vale in Liyue specifically. Whatever you asked for

Gorou set up a baby gate in the doorway to the nursery, and triple, sometimes even quadruple checked that cribs and dressers and the like were securely anchored to the walls, and any cords from baby monitors were far out of reach so there'd be no reason to stress when the baby was born

Whenever he had time, he'd cling to you and cover your face -and your stomach- in kisses, still in awe, especially awe that he'd have a child in a few months

He protested adamantly that you -for the sake of his dignity- did not buy a baby blanket with dog bones on it (you did, and he'd never admit it but it was kind of a cute blanket)

When the baby was born he cried even harder than when you'd told him you were pregnant, and spent hours on end in the nursery, just watching the infant sleep peacefully, hyperfixated on their every move

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Heizou Shikanoin (Detective as usual, 301 words)

When you told Heizou that you're pregnant he immediately smirked and made a bit of a filthy joke regarding his tendency to forget to pull out, although it was lighthearted and you could tell he was really happy

Heizou couldn't exactly do detective investigations over video conference, but he insisted on (trying) his best to investigate stuff that'd keep him on Narukami Island and not all across Inazuma

He'd come home from working, yawning and flopping onto the couch, but not before insisting you take off work as soon as possible, even when you weren't that far into pregnancy, showing that even if he was a little bit of a prick he could be considerate (sometimes)

He made setting up the nursery a bonding activity, insisting he didn't need instructions, which he didn't, but the fact he was bragging about it was both attractive and slightly annoying (his brand of flirting)

Heizou massaged your feet without complaint as they got sore and swollen, but he would (only if you were having a really good day) tickle the bottoms of your feet while doing so

Heizou would make sure to wake up before you so that he could prepare breakfast and lunch, so that you wouldn't have to stress over what to eat throughout the day, although he'd never admit that to being the reason he did it

He managed to get a hold of a baby sized briefcase (from where who knows) and set it without a word on the dresser in the nursery, as if it'd been there the whole time. He always stifled a laugh whenever he walked past it though...weirdo

After you had the baby, Heizou talked to them like they understood what he was saying, even when in reality the infant probably couldn't even form thoughts

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Kaedehara Kazuha (Author Kazuha, 356 words)

Kazuha was excited -like, really excited- when you told him you were pregnant, but not a losing his mind type of excited, a quiet type of cheer. He'd walk around your shared home, humming softly and smiling a little without realizing he was doing it, standing up a little straighter

Since Kazuha usually works from home, dropping work wasn't that much of an issue. He'd sit with you outside and stare out at the backyard as he wrote, and you indulged yourself in whatever hobby you'd chosen for the afternoon

As soon as you'd told him you were pregnant in fact, he started working on a little side project. A baby book, filled with random items (safe ones) of course that he'd find whenever he went on walks, leaves, smooth and flat, big stones that he glued to the pages, and anything else that he could find, with poems along side them on the pages

Kazuha wasn't exactly excited or annoyed about setting up the nursery, but he got it done

One of his favorite pastimes it seemed now, was to to leave you random items he found when he was exploring or on walks. As well as small baskets of snacks, blankets, and fluffy socks that he very carefully checked didn't have those weird ass seams on the toe before buying them.

Truthfully, sometimes Kazuha got a little too absorbed in his writing and forgot to eat, but he now made extra sure he made food for the both of you, and sometimes -if he remembered- he'd prep food a couple days ahead

On a whim, he found a pair of baby boots when he was, again, on one of his walks, with a maple leaf pattern on them. He wouldn't admit entirely to it but he definitely bought them because he thought it'd be really cute to match with his favorite cardigan -one covered in maple leaves- when the baby was born

When the baby was born, Kazuha would read them the little book he'd made every night and show them the items he'd glued in to the pages; snail shells, dried flowers, etc...

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Thoma (Cafe owner Thoma [this is slightly self indulgent], 329 words)

Thoma -similarly to Gorou's- absolutely cried his eyes out when you told him you were pregnant. You two had actually been trying to have a baby, so this was a dream come true for him really

He already woke up early to prep pastry dough for the cafe in the morning, but now in addition to this, he made you ginger tea to help with morning sickness, as well as breakfast

Thoma picked up a little extra project too, and began working on knitting a baby blanket -with an adorable print of Taroumaru on it- in his -rare- free time, preferably while cuddled up with you on the couch and watching The Good Place

In addition, Thoma in his ever efficient manner, got the nursery done within a couple weeks of you telling him you were pregnant, and painted the walls with carnations and butterflies because he insisted the room needed to be pretty and relaxing, which, he wasn't exactly wrong

Thoma insisted adamantly that you rest, and ended up making the living room a sort of fortress for you? Pillows on the floor near the couch, as well as propped up on the couch into a "roof" with small baskets of knitted blankets and snacks; basically like the caches squirrels made except you actually knew where they were

He also did a looot of research on what you needed to eat, and adjusted what he cooked accordingly. For example, if you were feeling extra groggy, he'd make sure to make a meal with more iron in it, and B12.

He'd cling to you like you were a stuffed animal whenever he got the chance, kissing down your neck, then your shoulders and to your fingertips, before kissing down your chest and to your stomach, perfectly content to stay cuddling all day long if possible

When you had the baby, Thoma walked around with them swaddled against his chest before work while he made breakfast, or read or knitted.

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Thanks for reading hope that was good </3 ty for the ask anon! This was interesting to write

Bucky had been insufferably gentle all week. One hand always at your lower back. Metal fingers brushing reverently over the curve of your belly like he still couldn’t believe it was real.

“Our last vacation before they take over,” he’d murmured that morning, kissing the stretch-marked skin just above your navel. “Gonna miss having you all to myself, doll.”

You’d laughed, tugging him up for a proper kiss.

By noon, the cramps started.

You thought it was Braxton Hicks at first—tightening, uncomfortable but manageable. You’d had them before. You’d breathed through them while Bucky fussed in the kitchen, cutting fruit like he was diffusing a bomb.

But then one came sharper.

Lower.

Different.

You froze halfway through standing from the couch.

“Buck.”

He was at your side before the syllable finished leaving your mouth.

“What?” Immediate. Alert. That old soldier switch flipping on. “What is it?”

“I—” You pressed your hand to your stomach. The tightening didn’t fade. It rolled, intensified. Pain flickered up your spine. “I think… something’s wrong.”

The look on his face—God.

He’d faced Hydra, alien invasions, assassination attempts. But this?

This unraveled him.

Another contraction hit, stronger, and you sucked in a breath that felt too thin.

Bucky dropped to his knees in front of you like you were fragile glass. His flesh hand cupped your belly, his metal one bracing your hip.

“Okay,” he said, but his voice wasn’t steady. “Okay, we’re gonna time it. It’s probably nothing. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

They came five minutes apart.

Then three.

Your water broke on the hardwood floor of a rental cottage with seashell decor and a welcome basket still untouched on the counter.

The hospital smelled wrong.

Too sterile. Too unfamiliar.

You’d imagined going into labor at home. The hospital you toured. The OB who knew your history. Your mom in the waiting room. Sam cracking jokes. The team hovering nearby.

Instead, you were in a strange ER while Bucky barked clipped answers at a nurse about gestational age and prenatal records.

“Thirty-two weeks,” he said, like saying it enough times might rewind it. “She’s thirty-two weeks.”

They moved fast.

You were admitted, monitors strapped around your belly, strangers speaking in calm but urgent tones about magnesium and NICU and steroids for lung development.

NICU.

The word hollowed something out in your chest.

Bucky stood beside your bed like a sentinel. He didn’t sit. Didn’t blink. His hand never left yours.

Between contractions, your fear finally spilled over.

“We’re not home,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Buck, we’re not home. My doctor’s not here. My mom—what if something happens and we’re alone?”

His jaw clenched hard enough to tick.

“You’re not alone,” he said fiercely, leaning close so his forehead pressed to yours. “You hear me? You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care if I have to sleep in that chair for the next two months.”

Another contraction wracked through you and you cried out, fingers digging into his palm.

Labor wasn’t supposed to feel like this yet.

It progressed anyway.

Too fast.

Too relentless.

When it was time to push, you were shaking—not just from pain but from fear so sharp it tasted metallic.

“What if they’re too small?” you gasped between breaths. “What if they can’t breathe?”

Bucky’s eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, but unwavering.

“Then we fight,” he said, brushing sweat-damp hair off your forehead. “We fight for them. Like we fight for everything. You hear me? Our baby’s got your stubbornness and my refusal to quit. They don’t stand a chance.”

You let out something between a laugh and a sob.

It felt like falling off a cliff.

And then—

A cry.

Thin.

Reedy.

But there.

You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your breath until it shattered out of you in a broken sob.

“They’re taking them to the NICU,” someone said gently.

You barely caught a glimpse—tiny. So impossibly tiny. Swaddled and whisked away with a flurry of careful hands.

The room felt too quiet afterward.

Empty.

You lay back, exhausted beyond anything you’d ever known, tears slipping silently down your temples.

Bucky stayed glued to your side while they stitched and cleaned and monitored.

When they finally let him follow the baby, he hesitated.

He looked torn in half.

“Go,” you whispered. “Stay with them.”

His hand tightened around yours.

“I’ll be right back.”

The NICU was dim.

Soft beeping. Low voices.

Bucky had seen the inside of hell, but nothing prepared him for seeing your child inside an incubator.

So small.

Skin almost translucent.

Tiny chest rising with delicate effort.

He stepped closer like approaching sacred ground.

“That’s my kid,” he breathed, voice cracking.

A nurse explained tubes and monitors and oxygen support, but he barely processed it.

He slid one finger through the access port and brushed it gently against the baby’s curled fist.

The hand wrapped around him instantly.

Reflex.

Instinct.

Alive.

Bucky swallowed hard enough to hurt.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, leaning close. “You’re tougher than you look. You get that from your mom.”

He stayed there until a nurse gently reminded him you were asking for him.

When he returned to your room, his composure cracked the second he saw you.

“They’re small,” he said, voice rough. “But they’re fighting. Breathing on their own with a little help. Strong grip.”

Relief crashed into you so hard it left you trembling.

He climbed carefully into the narrow hospital bed beside you, wrapping himself around your exhausted body.

For once, he didn’t try to be the unshakable one.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” he admitted into your hair. “I didn’t care about being away from home. I didn’t care about anything except you breathing.”

You turned your face into his chest.

“I was so scared,” you whispered.

“I know.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering.

“We’ll make this our support,” he said quietly. “This hospital. These nurses. We’ll call your mom tonight. Sam’ll be on a plane by morning if we need him. We build our safety wherever we land. That’s what we do.”

The fear wasn’t gone.

It wouldn’t be for a while.

But when they wheeled you to the NICU later and you both stood side by side, fingers touching through incubator ports, watching that tiny chest rise and fall—

It didn’t feel like you were alone anymore.

It felt like you were exactly where you needed to be.

Three heartbeats.

“I could ask the same thing,” John muttered from behind you, already moving past with both of your bags slung over his shoulder. He didn’t even pause, heading straight toward the lockers like he needed distance before he said something sharper.

“What’s got his scrubs in a bunch?” Dana chuckled, her arm slipping comfortably around your shoulders as she guided you toward the hub at the center of the emergency department.

You waved him off. “He thinks I should be at home, but why would I want to be there if he’s not?” 

She hummed. “Clingy stage, hm?” 

You nodded, a little sheepish but not denying it. “Something like that.” You shifted your weight, one hand instinctively resting against your belly. “Where do you want me?”

“Oh, honey, I think you’re going to regret asking that question.” 

The group chat had blown up. Some (mostly your husband) were trying to argue that if day shift could survive with one attending, surely night shift could survive with two instead of three. You had smirked when Shen rolled over in bed that evening, his hair a mess and his jaw slack with disbelief as he read your message out loud.

“‘I can come in’?” he repeated, incredulous.

You were already halfway off the mattress, one leg hooked over the side as you tried to sit up. “Help me up, baby,” you said, reaching back for him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The entire drive there had been the same biting comments. John was mostly attempting to convince you to take it easy, that you should be resting. Technically, you were on slower, lower hours. Accommodations for more sitting time and longer breaks. 

You rotated around triage the first few hours of your shift, working with the less urgent patients. It was a nice change of pace from traumas and whatever other cases were straining enough to get their own rooms. It was a slower pace, one that allowed you to sit more often, to breathe between patients instead of sprinting from one crisis to the next. 

In fact, as you leaned back slightly in your chair between patients, one hand resting over the steady curve of your abdomen, you could admit it was kind of nice.

For once, no alarms were blaring. No one was shouting for a crash cart. No trauma bay doors were flying open with the force of urgency. Just the low hum of monitors, the occasional murmur of voices, and the steady rhythm of an ER functioning exactly as it should.

“How are you feeling?”

You glanced up at your husband, already reaching for the edge of the desk to help haul yourself upright. The movement was slower than it used to be, more deliberate, but you refused to make a thing out of it.

“Fine.”

John didn’t look convinced. Not even a little.

“Fine like fine,” he pressed, folding his arms across his chest, “or fine your feet hurt? How’s your back?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. You lifted the hem of your scrub top just enough to reveal the thick band wrapped snugly beneath your belly.

“Belly band is working overtime,” you said lightly.

His gaze lingered for a second longer before he glanced around, scanning the area out of habit. Miraculously, for once, no one was within earshot. No nurses passing by, no residents hovering, no patients calling out.

It gave his voice space to soften.

“You know I respect you,” he said quietly, stepping a little closer, “but please just… take it easy.”

“I am,” you mumbled, already easing yourself back into the chair. “I promise I’m okay.”

“Are you?” His eyes dragged over your face, studying you in that way that made it impossible to hide anything for long. “Because you look exhausted.”

You exhaled slowly, tilting your head back for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

“I don’t know how you can be so calm about this,” he continued, voice tightening just slightly. “You’re ready to pop any day now.”

You sighed, already tired of having the same conversation.

“I’m fine,” you said again, gentler this time. “If anything happens, you’re here. I’m surrounded by people who work great under pressure, and there’s a maternity ward a few floors above us.” You gave him a pointed look. “And you and I both know that most women with their first go past their due date.”

“I hear you, but I just—”

You lifted a hand, cutting him off as your eyes flicked past his shoulder.

“Abbot.”

Jack had been lingering just close enough to absolutely be listening, even if he was doing a poor job pretending otherwise. He straightened slightly when you called him out, caught somewhere between guilty and amused.

“You know how to deliver a baby, right?” you asked.

He blinked, his gaze bouncing from you to John and back again, immediately clocking the tension.

“I’m not getting in the middle of whatever this is,” he said carefully.

You shook your head, expression perfectly composed

“There’s a patient who might need it if OB doesn’t pick up the damn phone,” you said, the lie sliding out smoothly.

“Oh.” Jack’s lips pursed as he considered that, his posture shifting into something more professional. He nodded after a second, one shoulder lifting in a casual shrug. “Then yeah. I do.”

John rolled his eyes, completely unconvinced and still staring you down like he could will you into compliance.

“This is your last shift,” he said flatly. “That’s it.”

You held his gaze for a beat, then nodded, easy and agreeable.

“Scout’s honor.”

The way his eyes narrowed told you he didn’t believe you for a second. And truthfully, you should have known better than to relish in the calm. 

The doors burst open with a force that snapped the entire department to attention, paramedics wheeling in an unconscious patient. 

“Trauma incoming!”

Everything shifted in an instant. Chairs scraped back, voices sharpened, movement accelerated towards the doors. 

“Where’s Shen?” someone called.

“In a consult,” another voice shot back.

“Abbot?”

“Tied up in two!”

You hesitated for exactly half a second before your brain turned itself into doctor mode. You reached for a pair of gloves from the station on the wall, already turning towards the stretcher. 

“I’ve got it,” you said, already moving. Thankfully, no one had time to stop you. 

“Thirty-two-year-old male, MVC, unrestrained. Lost his pulse en route, we got it back once—”

“Transfer on three!”

You were at the bedside before your brain could catch up, muscle memory taking over. Gloves. Positioning. Assessing. Calling out what you saw, what you needed.

“Get me pressure, no manual.” You looked around, catching everyone who was in the room with you. “And where’s respiratory?”

Your body moved like it always had, but there was a beat in your back that made you falter. 

You positioned your hands over the patient when it came time, locked your elbows, and began. Everyone worked around you. Information was shouted into the air. Your responses were robotic, relying on the information you committed to memory all those years ago. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you remembered why you missed it so much. Why you’d spent all shift fighting with your husband, because you need to be here. You need to help. 

You lifted just enough for the count.

“Lady Shen,” Nazely gasped beside you, her voice cutting through the noise just enough to register. “You need a break.” 

You counted again, breath tighter now, adjusting your stance instinctively. “I know,” you said, voice strained but steady. “I feel it.”

The next roll of pressure between your hips bade your breath hitch, sweat dripping down your temples. The next break came, and this time you stepped off the stool. 

“Resuming compressions,” someone echoed, closer now. 

A hand touched your arm, another guiding your shoulder. You traded places automatically, shifting to the side, eyes still locked on the patient.

“Epi’s in.”

“Charging to 200.”

“Clear!”

You focused on the monitor, on the numbers, on anything that wasn’t the low, persistent ache now settling into your pelvis. Your eyes fluttered shut for half a second before it passed. You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself against the edge of the bed, forcing your attention back where it belonged.

By the time the patient was stabilized and rushed off to the next step, you felt it. The adrenaline ebbed first, leaving behind a hollowed-out kind of fatigue that settled deep in your bones. Your arms felt heavier, your back tighter, your legs just a little less reliable than they had been an hour ago.You leaned against the nurse’s station, one hand braced on the counter, the other instinctively cradling the underside of your belly as you exhaled.

Nazely was there within seconds. She rolled a chair over without a word, positioning it carefully behind you like she’d done this a hundred times before.

“Oh, thank you, sweetie,” you murmured, easing yourself down with a soft groan you didn’t quite manage to hide. Your palm stayed pressed to your abdomen, fingers splayed. “Just five minutes.”

She hovered for a second, her expression tightening ever so slightly.

“Should I go get Dr. Shen?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, it’s just… a lot of physical exertion for someone who hasn’t done cardio in months.” You tried for a smile, something reassuring. “I’m good.”

Nazely didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded anyway, taking a step back.

The pressure hit again before she made it ten feet.

It rolled through you low and deep, tighter this time. Less discomfort and more like something with a purpose. You sucked in a breath, your fingers curling slightly against your belly.

“Okay,” you muttered under your breath.

You pushed yourself up from the chair, thighs trembling in a way that had nothing to do with the earlier exertion.

“Traitor,” you grumbled, one hand bracing your lower back as the other stayed firm over your stomach. “You better not be trying to prove your dad right.”

As if on cue, a small, deliberate kick fluttered just beside your belly button.

You huffed out a quiet laugh despite yourself.

“Yeah, yeah. I house you. I feed you. You made me take out my belly ring, kid,” you muttered, shaking your head. “The least you could do is cooperate. I hope you know that your dad may seem fun on the outside, but he’s a big ball of crazy.”

Another faint movement answered you. You reached for another chart at the triage desk, fingers brushing the edge of the paper before another hand landed over yours. 

“You said you were fine.” John’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through everything else.

You didn’t look at him right away. “I was,” you shot back, a little sharper than intended. “At the time.”

He blinked, processing, his grip tightening just slightly before he shifted his stance to get a better look at your face.

“How far apart?”

You exhaled through your nose, glancing around like you might find an escape route in the chaos of the department.

“Nothing bad,” you said. “Just… like Braxton Hicks, but worse.”

His expression changed instantly. “We’re going upstairs.”

“N—”

“Oh yes you are,” Jack cut in, appearing at your other side with his arms crossed like he’d been waiting for his moment. His tone was lighter, but there was no real room for argument. “Just go upstairs. Let them check, and then—”

“I might as well just yank my pants down right here,” you snapped, finally looking between the two of them. “You guys are stepping on my dignity.”

A couple of nearby nurses very deliberately pretended not to hear that. Both men shared a look over your head.

John sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Usually that’d work,” he said dryly. “You keep making your period face. I know you're in pain.”

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, ready to push back but then you felt your pants get heavier. A sudden, unmistakable warmth spread between your thighs, quick and overwhelming as it soaked through fabric and began trailing down toward your knees. Your jaw clenched hard enough to ache.

For a second, the noise of the ER dulled, like someone had turned the volume down just for you. You didn’t need to look down.

“I’m going,” you said tightly, already shifting your weight, already moving. “But not because you told me to.”

John’s hand was at your back immediately, steady and guiding, his earlier frustration replaced by something sharper, more focused.

Jack stepped aside, then reached out to clap John on the shoulder as you passed. “Good luck,” he said, a grin tugging at his mouth despite the situation. “I’ll call Robby.”

John didn’t even slow down as he steered you toward the elevators, his attention fully locked on you now.

You cut him off before he could say anything. “Don’t. If you give me a lecture, I’m keeping you out of the room and the first time you see our baby is going to be through the glass.” 

“I was going to say,” he murmured, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple, “that we’re having a freakin’ baby.”

The words landed differently than anything else he’d said all day. He pulled you a little closer as the doors slid shut, sealing you both into the brief, humming quiet of the ride up. 

“I’m sorry,” he added, his voice lower now. “For… all of it. I got a little pushy.”

You exhaled, some of the tension slipping from your shoulders despite the tightening still rolling through your body in waves.

“I know,” you said, quieter. “You’re annoying, but you mean well.”

He huffed out a breath that almost passed for a laugh, his forehead dropping briefly against yours.

“Annoying,” he repeated. “That’s what you’re going with right now?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, eyes fluttering shut for a second as another contraction built, stronger this time. Your grip on his hand tightened. “Top-tier irritating.”