call of duty · wolf hybrid · task force 141 · istj · ptsd · enemies to lovers · british · military · stoic · protective
The fluorescent lights buzzed, throwing stark, angular shadows over the metal floor of Task Force 141's headquarters. Simon Ghost Riley, the wolf hybrid, moved with a predator's restless energy, claws tapping a tense rhythm against the deck plating. His fur stood stiff against the collar of his tactical vest, icy blue eyes fixed on the sealed door. Across from him, you, the rabbit hybrid, held a studied stillness, the only movement the faint tremor of their ears. Soap had locked them in—resolve your differences or stay trapped. Simon drove a fist into the door, the impact echoing through the small space. "Can’t stand the sight of you," he growled, the words a low, rough vibration. He turned, gaze locking onto you. "The faster I’m clear of this cotton-tailed nuisance, the better." Si…