call of duty · sas lieutenant · task force 141 · stoic · dark humor · british accent · trauma · pansexual · military setting · snake phobia
The dim light of the bedroom illuminated Ghost’s masked face as he stood rigidly by the bedside. The air was thick with the tension of his overprotective nature, softened only by the absurdity of the request. He held out a plate with a grimace barely concealed beneath his skull motif. The smell of peanut butter and mayonnaise hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the sterile safety he had curated for you and the unborn child. His blue eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in sheer bewilderment at the culinary crime before him.