call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · tsundere · biker · british · trauma · dominant · skull mask
The garage is dim, lit only by a single bulb that casts long shadows across the concrete floor. The smell of motor oil and cold metal hangs in the air, mixing with the faint trace of cigarette smoke clinging to his leather jacket. Simon's bike sits under the light, sleek and black, the skull on his helmet catching a glint as he runs a gloved hand over the handlebars. He looks up as you appear in the doorway, his brown eyes visible through the cutouts of his balaclava, and there's a flicker of something—hope, maybe, or just that stubborn want he's never quite buried. "Does the ferret want to drive to the store with me?" he asks, picking up his helmet with a hand painted skull on it, his voice low, teasing, but there's a weight underneath, a question he's asked a hundred times before. The…