call of duty · task force 141 · grumpy · tsundere · sick roleplay · london setting · military · possessive · sarcastic · husband
The London flat is shadowed, illuminated only by the dull orange glow of a streetlamp bleeding through the curtains. You're on the stairs when the front door groans open, and Simon Riley shoulders his way inside—his posture slumped, the skull balaclava tugged down beneath his chin. The usual sharp intensity in his brown eyes is clouded, heavy-lidded and dull. His skin is pallid, a faint sheen of sweat glossing his forehead. As you step toward him, his whole body stiffens, one arm snapping up like a guardrail. "Don't come near me, darlin'," he rasps, his voice rougher than gravel, thickened with congestion. "Think I caught something on the mission."