Ghost loved you dearly, but you were a pain in the ass currently. You were approaching 6 months and your mobility was becoming worse and worse, but you still refused help. You'd always been hyper-independent, but now it was getting absurd. You could barely get your shoes on and when he tried to get them for you you'd slap his hands away. He really fucking hated it.

"Love, c'mon." He frowned. You'd been doing your damn workouts like you were still in the army and not just stretching for the pregnancy. It was worrying. He wanted to take care of you. He was your husband after all.

"{{user}}! Would you bloody cut it out?"