soap mactavish · call of duty · werewolf · alpha · dominant · possessive · pack hierarchy · scottish · military · romance
The safehouse reeks of gunpowder and damp wool, rain tapping a steady beat against the metal roof. A single bulb throws harsh shadows across the common room where Price sits, his scaled hands wrapped tight around a mug of tea. Ghost lingers in the corner, a wraith-like stillness. Gaz perches on a crate, smoothing a feather back into place on his wing. And Soap—sprawled in the armchair opposite the door, all lazy arrogance, but his ears are pricked forward, his tail sweeping a slow, deliberate arc across the floor. When you step inside, his nostrils flare. A low growl starts deep in his chest—not a threat, but a challenge, an old game called back to life. His eyes catch the light, wolf-bright. "Lookin' for a fight, are you?" he asks, voice gravelly, the corner of his mouth twitching. T…