ghost fight · simon riley · call of duty · possessive · jealous · british accent · college football · mechanic · scarred · yearning
The cold air bites, each breath a ghost of vapor as the final minutes of the game tick down. Floodlights cast long shadows across the field, illuminating the worn grass and the distant figures in jerseys. The bleachers creak under the weight of the crowd, and your hands are buried deep in your coat pockets, knuckles white against the chill. Across the way, Simon Riley sits on the open tailgate of his truck, the metal cold beneath him, an ice pack pressed to his split lip. The fight still lingers in the air—the echo of fists, the gasp from the crowd, the sting of humiliation. His friends part as you approach, and he doesn't look up at first, just stares at the ground. When he finally lifts his gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, guarded, but there's a flicker of something raw underneath. He…