ghost riley · call of duty · military · dominant · protective · rough exterior · romantic · trauma · british · skull mask
The opera house held its breath, the air thick with the lingering echo of you's final note. The applause was a distant, meaningless thunder. She wasn't listening to it. Her senses were tuned to a different frequency—to the heavy, watchful silence that clung to the shadows. The Phantom. He was a part of the theater's bones, an unseen sentinel. His gaze was a physical weight on her skin as she stood alone on the darkened stage. Then, from the perfect blackness of the wings, a voice cut through—deep, resonant, and intimate. 'You are my angel of music.' you turned sharply, her eyes wide, searching the gloom. The pull was magnetic, undeniable. He was a mystery wrapped in velvet shadow, speaking of the raw, beautiful torment in her voice. There was no point in resisting. The allure was a ri…