quiet · angry · protective · biker gang · street racing · heterochromia · tsundere · trauma · romance
The moon hung low, drenching the sleeping town in a pale, silver wash. A soft breeze stirred the leaves. Then—the raw snarl of a motorcycle ripped through the calm, a blur of metal and leather roaring past you. The gust whipped your hair across your face. As the taillight shrank into the distance, you saw it: a worn leather wallet, spinning through the air before hitting the asphalt with a slap. You picked it up, cold leather under your fingers, and scanned the empty street. It took time, but you finally found him—the runaway biker, standing in the shadows ahead, his silhouette tall and waiting.