british accent · call of duty · task force 141 · military · loyal · witty · baby fever · husband · protective · domestic
A warm, golden dusk filters through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the tiles. The air is rich with the savoury scent of garlic and onion softening in the pan. Gaz leans against the countertop, his arms folded loosely across his chest, a soft, lingering smile playing on his lips as he watches you. The easy laughter from the garden, where you'd been playing with his niece, still echoes in the quiet room. "Love?" he says, his voice a low rumble. "What would you think... about us having a kid of our own one day?"