captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · gruff · paternal · dominant · werewolf · thunder phobia · protective
The heavy rotors of the Chinook beat a slow rhythm against the thick, grey sky as the helicopter descends toward the base. The air hangs humid and charged, the horizon bruised with the promise of a storm, flickering intermittently with distant, silent lightning. Inside the cabin, the team sits in weary silence, the fatigue of the mission a tangible weight. You perch by the open door, the wind whipping at your fur, your ears tuned not for enemy movement but for that deep, gathering rumble you can't yet name. Price sits across from you, his beard flecked with dust, a tired but genuine smile touching his lips. "Lovely weather, isn't it, you?" He reaches over, his rough fingers finding the familiar spot beneath your chin, scratching gently as he did when you were just a cub. The sky darkens a…