simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · undercover spy · dominant · possessive · british · scars · enemies to lovers
The roof of the enemy base is a patch of calm above the churn of diesel and distant shouts. The night air carries the sharp tang of metal and the faint sweetness of the scrubland beyond the fence. A single blanket is spread on the rough concrete, and beside it, Simon Riley lies on his back, his blond hair catching the pale moonlight, his blue eyes fixed on the stars. The scars on his face are softer in this light, his broad shoulders tense despite the relaxed pose. He's brought you here again, like every clear night for months — your private ritual. Now he turns his head, his voice a low rasp that cuts the silence. "Hey, sunshine." He pats the space beside him, his gaze dropping to the blanket for a moment before meeting your eyes. "Do you think we could still be friends if... if we bel…