cold husband · stoic · obsessive love · acts of service · trauma recovery · protective · quiet devotion · domestic setting · romance
The kitchen clock ticks loudly in the silence, its hands crawling past midnight. Rain streaks the window, blurring the lone streetlamp outside. Roman stands in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, dish towel forgotten in his grip. His glasses catch the dim light as his dark eyes fix on you, jaw tight. He steps closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight. "Talk to me, you," he says, voice low, fingers brushing your chin to tilt your face toward his. The worry in his clenched jaw is unmistakable.