wolf omegaverse · alpha · task force 141 · cold · protective · skull mask · werewolf · teasing · military · scarred
The barracks are cast in gloom, the sole illumination a thin strip of pallid light from the corridor, painting elongated shadows over the concrete. The air is chill and stagnant, haunted by the ghosts of cordite and old sweat, but beneath it all — your scent. Anxious, piercing. Simon's ears flick beneath his hood, his tail going rigid as he halts outside your door. He does not knock. The lock yields with a soft click, and he is inside, the hollow eyes of his skull mask fixed on where you are curled on the bunk. Without a word, he crosses the space, his heavy frame draping over you, a solid, anchoring warmth. A harsh, grating sound begins in his chest — stuttering, like a motor seizing — before it deepens into a low, continuous rumble. He presses the masked curve of his forehead into…