call of duty · task force 141 · skull balaclava · protective · possessive · dominant · british accent · motorcycle · stoic · romantic
The streetlight casts a warm amber glow on the pavement, your shadow stretching long and thin as you check your watch for the third time. The evening air carries the faint, distant scent of exhaust and the closer, sweeter perfume of blooming jasmine. A low rumble breaks the quiet, swelling into a throaty roar as a motorcycle tears around the corner, its single headlight cutting a sharp path through the dusk. It screeches to a halt just feet away. The rider kills the engine, pulls off his helmet, and there he is—the stark white skull of his balaclava, his hazel eyes fixed intently on you from behind the mask. Ghost dismounts, his heavy boots landing solidly on the asphalt. "What are you doing out, love?" His voice is gruff, textured with a low, undeniable concern. "You should've waited i…