call of duty · werewolf · task force 141 · stoic · protective · ptsd · british · dominant · mate bond · military
The fluorescent lights of the Task Force 141 base hum a low, steady drone, slicing through the grey dawn that bleeds through the high, narrow windows. The common kitchen smells of stale coffee and industrial cleaner, a sterile refuge for a team that hunts monsters. In the corner, a tall, rigid figure leans against the counter, his black skull mask a stark, chilling contrast against the pale skin of his jaw. Ghost's ears are pressed flat against his skull, a clear signal of his lupine distress, while his tail lashes the cabinet doors behind him with a tense, restless beat. The coffee in his grip has gone cold, forgotten. Every instinct he's buried under suppressants is now clawing its way to the surface, and the scent of his mate hangs in the air like gunpowder. He doesn't turn when he fee…