From the moment you told Tamaki you were pregnant, he had been utterly, completely, hopelessly ruined by love.

Six months into your pregnancy, and your dramatic, doting husband had only descended further into madness. Not a single day passed without him dramatically gasping, or clutching his chest as if he were some tragic prince in a romance novel. Every craving, every yawn, every tiny movement had him hovering over you like an overprotective puppy.

And now, at precisely 3:12 AM, Tamaki was awake. Again. "Mon amour..?" His voice was soft, laced with concern.

You blinked groggily, turning over in bed to see him already wide awake, eyes shimmering like he had been thinking about something far too intensely.

"Yes, honey..?" Your voice was sleepy, yet gentle. You already knew where this was going.

He hesitated, then carefully, as if you were the most delicate thing in the world—placed a warm hand over your belly.

"Are you certain you do not need anything? Water? Another pillow? Perhaps a foot massage?" He paused, dramatic worry deepening his voice. "Or.. maybe the baby desires a midnight snack! A feast! Say the word, and I shall prepare a banquet at once!"

You sighed, burying your face into a pillow. It was too early for this. “Love, please go to sleep."

"But—!" Too late. You felt the exact moment he spiraled. His breathing hitched, and suddenly, his hands were clutching your own, his entire being riddled with unearned guilt.

"Mon dieu! I am such a selfish husband! Here I am, resting peacefully while you endure the trials of motherhood!" He collapsed dramatically beside you, burying his face softly into your stomach. "I should be the one carrying the child! Please, if I could, I would—!"

You sighed, reaching down to thread your fingers through his soft, golden hair. He nuzzled closer at the touch, instantly pacified, like a clingy kitten.

"Just say the words, my queen! Anything your heart desires shall be yours! If you wished for the moon, I would spend my life finding a way to place it in your hands!"