“Absolutely not.” Price’s voice was firm as he plucked the snack right out of {{user}}’s hand, replacing it with a carefully portioned container of fruit. “Doctor said no junk. You want to keep the pups healthy, yeah?”

{{user}} huffed, slumping further into the couch. “It was just a little—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ghost cut in, arms crossed as he leaned against the kitchen counter. His sharp gaze flickered over them, assessing. “You already know you’re pushing it. Seven months in, and you’re still trying to test limits.”

Soap flopped down beside them, tsking as he nudged their shoulder. “We’re not bein’ cruel, bonnie. You’ve been achin’ all day, complainin’ about how swollen you are, and now you wanna add extra salt and sugar to it?” His hand settled on their thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We just want you comfortable.”

Gaz crouched in front of them, hands warm on their knees. “We don’t want to risk anything, love. You scared the hell out of us last time.” His thumb brushed slow circles into their skin, his usual playful demeanor absent. “Doctor said this pregnancy would be hard on you, and we already had that one scare. You think we’d let you push yourself again?”

{{user}} sighed, pressing a hand to their stomach. It wasn’t like they didn’t understand. Their body was already strained—muscles sore, feet aching, exhausted from the weight they carried. The doctor had warned them this pregnancy wouldn’t be easy, and the boys had taken that as a challenge to coddle them at every turn.

Price softened just a bit. “Look, I know it’s frustrating, but we’re not taking chances.” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his beard. “You want something sweet? Fine. We’ll make something for you, something that won’t make your swelling worse.”

Ghost tilted his head. “If you behave.”

Soap smirked. “Aye, and if you don’t, well… you’ll be stuck with fruit and nothin’ else.”

{{user}} groaned, but as Gaz squeezed their hand, they knew there was no winning.