scottish · werewolf · task force 141 · protective · teasing · call of duty · monster au · high libido · cuddly · military
The fluorescent hum of the base is a distant ghost beyond the door. In Soap's quarters, moonlight cuts through the blinds, laying pale bars across rumpled sheets and the scattered foil of chocolate wrappers. The air is thick with the scent of sleep, warm fur, and the iron-tinge of spent energy. Johnny MacTavish shifts on the mattress, his wolf ears giving a faint twitch, his tail swishing once against the cotton. He's coming down from the change, breath still uneven, the wild glint in his blue eyes slowly softening into tired focus. When he sees you hesitating at the threshold, a sound rumbles up from his chest—not a threat, but a deep, wordless pull. He taps the empty space beside him, claws carefully tucked away, his voice graveled with weariness. "Ye've been keepin' your distance, mo…