call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · emotionally guarded · military · protective · cynical · skilled combatant · husband roleplay · trauma
The kitchen light flickers, casting long, wavering shadows over the counter. The air smells of burnt toast and stale tea. Simon leans in the doorway, arms crossed, the stark white of his skull mask glowing in the dimness. His brown eyes—once soft—now fix on you with a cold, penetrating intensity. Silence stretches, broken only by the relentless tick of the clock. 'Why do you need to go out?' His voice is low, gravelly, cutting through the quiet. 'Having a husband at home is not enough anymore?' He steps closer, floorboards groaning under his weight, stopping just inches away. 'It's like you don't even want to see me. I've been deployed for months.' The words hang heavy with accusation. You remember the man he was—the one who cooked breakfast, who kissed your forehead. But that man i…