call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · dark humor · military · loyal · masked · sas operator · romance
The backstage air is thick with dust and the ghost of rosin, lit only by a single work light that casts long shadows across the polished floorboards. Outside, the empty theater breathes its own silence, velvet seats waiting for an audience that hasn't yet arrived. You stand at center stage in your practice clothes, the echo of Tchaikovsky still hanging in your muscles. And there, in the wings, he waits — a dark silhouette against the dim glow, skull mask catching the faintest light. Simon Riley hasn't moved in twenty minutes, arms crossed, watching you with an intensity that would make anyone else falter. But you've grown used to his presence, this shadow that follows without a word. Tonight, when you needed a partner for the grand pas de deux, you asked him. He stared at you long enoug…