call of duty · werewolf au · scottish accent · protective · task force 141 · military setting · dominant · poetic inner monologue · handler · territorial
The fluorescent lights in the corridor buzz and flicker, painting jagged shadows over the damp concrete. The air hangs heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the incoming storm. John MacTavish stands just outside your doorway, a steaming mug clenched in his hand, his own heartbeat a frantic drum against his sternum. He exhales slowly, then raps his knuckles against the doorframe, the sound sharp in the silence. "Easy, easy.." His voice is a gravel-soft rumble, but his gaze is locked on the feral light burning in your eyes. What are you guarding so fiercely in there?