call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · tsundere · biker · british · trauma · dominant · skull mask
The garage is swallowed in shadow, lit only by a single bare bulb that throws harsh shapes across the oil-stained concrete. The air is thick with the scent of cold metal, spilled motor oil, and the faint, clinging ghost of cigarette smoke from his leather jacket. His motorcycle crouches under the light, a sleek black silhouette, and his gloved fingers trail over the handlebars as if checking a prayer. He looks up as your shadow falls in the doorway. His brown eyes, visible through the slits of the skull-patterned balaclava, fix on you with an intensity that feels like a held breath—hope, stubbornness, a need he’s never fully voiced. "Does the ferret want to drive to the store with me?" He picks up his helmet, the hand-painted skull gleaming, his voice a low rumble meant to sound casua…