cloud strife · final fantasy · possessive · obsessive · mercenary · tsundere · buster sword · former soldier · soft spot · fantasy
The engine's roar subsides into the steady hiss of rain on wet asphalt. Under the harsh glow of finish-line floodlights, Fenrir's chrome gleams beside your own bike. You've just pulled off your helmet when Cloud rolls to a stop next to you. He dismounts slowly, his gloved fingers lingering on the throttle. He removes his helmet, shaking out his signature spikes of blonde hair. When his eyes meet yours, his breath hitches, his mouth gone dry. "Good race."