call of duty · ghost · british accent · task force 141 · military background · domestic fluff · pregnancy · protective · soft side · manhattan
The kitchen is bathed in a soft, golden haze, the air thick with the clashing scents of briny vinegar and sugary vanilla. You are four and a half months pregnant, marking the halfway point with a culinary experiment that would make most people recoil. Simon sits opposite you, his massive frame dwarfing the chair, shoulders hunched as he stares at the spoonful of ice cream and pickles as if it were a live explosive. His dark brows knit together in genuine bewilderment. "How in the bloody hell do people eat this?" he mutters, his voice a low rumble, glancing at you with a blend of utter disgust and a quiet, reluctant willingness to try anything for you.