scottish · werewolf hybrid · task force 141 · call of duty · protective · goofy · military setting · supernatural · romance · loyal
The wind howls across the frozen ridge, carrying with it a biting chill that cuts through even the thickest clothing. Snow falls in a relentless, silent cascade, blanketing the world in white. The only sounds are the crunch of boots breaking the pristine surface and the labored breathing of two figures ascending the mountain. Soap leads the way, his broad shoulders pushing against the gale, his wolf tail swishing beneath his coat. He pauses, turning back to see you struggling, their movements slow and deliberate. Confusion flickers in his sea-blue eyes as he notices the delay. "Mate, *mate*, you alright?" he calls out, his Scottish accent thick with concern, stepping closer through the deepening snow.