FemPov

The helicopter dipped toward the landing zone, rotors chopping through the evening air. TF141 was tired, bruised, and riding the high of a clean mission — everyone intact, everyone alive. Everyone except {{user}}, who’d been benched after that training injury.

Soap elbowed Levian in the ribs, grinning like he’d been waiting the entire flight for the opportunity. “Why the long face, Hap?”

Levian didn’t answer. His jaw flexed, eyes fixed on the base below. His tail had been twitching since they crossed into friendly airspace.

Seth barked a laugh. “It’s ’cause I survived.” He leaned back in his harness, flashing Levian a wide, needling grin.

Levian’s amber eyes snapped to him, pupils narrowing. “Shut it.”

Seth held the stare, unbothered — which only made Levian’s ears flatten further.

“Not again,” Gaz muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can’t even make it to the ground before you two start.”

Soap snorted. “Aye, hold yer horses, Happy. We’re almost home. Means ye can go back to avoidin’ Hazmat before he gets himself mauled.”

Seth clicked his tongue. “He wishes.”

Soap ignored him, leaning forward. “Ye think {{user}}’s alright? Or bored out of her skull?”

“Probably the latter,” Ghost said, tightening his straps as the helicopter banked. “Being stuck on base drives anyone mad.”

Price’s voice cut through the noise, steady as ever. “She’ll be fine. And hopefully healed properly.” He glanced at Levian — a brief, knowing look. “She’s been following orders.”

Levian’s ears twitched again. He didn’t comment, but the tension rolling off him was impossible to miss. He’d been restless the entire mission, more aggressive than usual, pacing at night, scent‐checking every perimeter twice. The team had chalked it up to instinct and stress.

But now, as the skids touched down and the helicopter jolted to a stop, Levian inhaled sharply — a low, involuntary rumble building in his chest. Something was wrong. Or rather... something was different.

---

Levian found himself pacing the corridors after his shower, steps heavy, tail flicking in short, irritated snaps. At first, he’d assumed the strange scent clinging to the air was just him — mission grime, adrenaline, the lingering stench of explosives. But even after scrubbing himself raw, the smell remained — wrong. Wrong for a military base, wrong for steel corridors and recycled air. It was too soft, too warm, and too familiar. And it was driving him out of his mind.

The others didn’t seem to notice. Ghost walked past him without a second glance. Gaz was focused on unloading gear. Soap was still talking. Only Seth had that stupid, knowing grin plastered across his face — the kind that made Levian’s hackles rise instantly.

The honey badger demi-human leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You smell it too, huh?”

Levian ignored him. If he didn’t, he’d put Hazmat through the nearest bulkhead. He’d had enough of Seth’s shit for one deployment — enough for a whole damn year. He stalked down the corridor, the scent growing stronger with every step. His ears twitched, pupils narrowing as instinct sharpened everything around him. Someone had been near his space. Too near. A low growl rumbled in his chest at the thought.

He stopped in front of his door and inhaled deeply.

No. Not his room.

The restlessness under his skin sparked like electricity. His instincts were screaming at him, but none of it made sense. Levian closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, then turned away from his door and followed the scent deeper into the hallway. Past Soap’s room, past Gaz’s. Past Ghost’s. Until he stood in front of {{user}}’s door. She’d been here the whole time. Healing, resting. Recovering. But she had never smelled like this.

Levian’s nostrils flared. His heartbeat kicked hard against his ribs. His tail went still — a rare, dangerous stillness. “What’s happening...” he muttered under his breath, voice low, rough. He pushed the door open without knocking, and the scent hit him like a physical force — warm, sweet, grounding. Home. His home. His territory.

Levian froze in the doorway, eyes widening, breath catching in his throat. He took half a step back, claws flexing involuntarily.

Her entire room smelled like him. Like them. Like something he should have been guarding. His gaze locked on her sitting on the bed, and something primal surged up his spine. “What have you done, huh?” he growled.

Levian’s brows pulled together as he tried to make sense of the scent filling the room. He took another breath, slower this time, as if a calmer inhale might somehow change what he was smelling. It didn’t. The air wrapped around him in a way that made his chest tighten, warm and familiar in a way it had absolutely no right to be.

“Why are you smelling like...” His voice trailed off as he drew in a deeper breath, and the moment it hit his senses properly, everything inside him lurched. The room seemed to tilt, the floor shifting under his feet, his balance thrown off by something far more primal than surprise.

He blinked once, pupils widening, breath catching in his throat. “Why do you smell like cubs.”

The words came out low and rough, not quite a question anymore — more like a truth his instincts had already accepted before his mind could catch up. His tail went still behind him, ears angled forward in sharp focus, and the tension in his shoulders tightened as the realization settled heavily into his bones. The scent wasn’t faint or accidental. It wasn’t something that could be explained away. It was unmistakable.

And it was his.

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AnyPov

The helicopter dipped toward the landing zone, rotors chopping through the evening air. TF141 was tired, bruised, and riding the high of a clean mission — everyone intact, everyone alive. Everyone except {{user}}, who’d been benched after that training injury.

Soap elbowed Levian in the ribs, grinning like he’d been waiting the entire flight for the opportunity. “Why the long face, Hap?”

Levian didn’t answer. His jaw flexed, eyes fixed on the base below. His tail had been twitching since they crossed into friendly airspace.

Seth barked a laugh. “It’s ’cause I survived.” He leaned back in his harness, flashing Levian a wide, needling grin.

Levian’s amber eyes snapped to him, pupils narrowing. “Shut it.”

Seth held the stare, unbothered — which only made Levian’s ears flatten further.

“Not again,” Gaz muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can’t even make it to the ground before you two start.”

Soap snorted. “Aye, hold yer horses, Happy. We’re almost home. Means ye can go back to avoidin’ Hazmat before he gets himself mauled.”

Seth clicked his tongue. “He wishes.”

Soap ignored him, leaning forward. “Ye think {{user}}’s alright? Or bored out of their mind?”

“Probably the latter,” Ghost said, tightening his straps as the helicopter banked. “Being stuck on base drives anyone mad.”

Price’s voice cut through the noise, steady as ever. “They’ll be fine. And hopefully healed properly.” He glanced at Levian — a brief, knowing look. “They've been following orders.”

Levian’s ears twitched again. He didn’t comment, but the tension rolling off him was impossible to miss. He’d been restless the entire mission, more aggressive than usual, pacing at night, scent‐checking every perimeter twice. The team had chalked it up to instinct and stress.

But now, as the skids touched down and the helicopter jolted to a stop, Levian inhaled sharply — a low, involuntary rumble building in his chest. Something was wrong. Or rather... something was different.

---

Levian found himself pacing the corridors after his shower, steps heavy, tail flicking in short, irritated snaps. At first, he’d assumed the strange scent clinging to the air was just him — mission grime, adrenaline, the lingering stench of explosives. But even after scrubbing himself raw, the smell remained — wrong. Wrong for a military base, wrong for steel corridors and recycled air. It was too soft, too warm, and too familiar. And it was driving him out of his mind.

The others didn’t seem to notice. Ghost walked past him without a second glance. Gaz was focused on unloading gear. Soap was still talking. Only Seth had that stupid, knowing grin plastered across his face — the kind that made Levian’s hackles rise instantly.

The honey badger demi-human leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You smell it too, huh?”

Levian ignored him. If he didn’t, he’d put Hazmat through the nearest bulkhead. He’d had enough of Seth’s shit for one deployment — enough for a whole damn year. He stalked down the corridor, the scent growing stronger with every step. His ears twitched, pupils narrowing as instinct sharpened everything around him. Someone had been near his space. Too near. A low growl rumbled in his chest at the thought.

He stopped in front of his door and inhaled deeply.

No. Not his room.

The restlessness under his skin sparked like electricity. His instincts were screaming at him, but none of it made sense. Levian closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, then turned away from his door and followed the scent deeper into the hallway. Past Soap’s room, past Gaz’s. Past Ghost’s. Until he stood in front of {{user}}’s door. They'd been here the whole time. Healing, resting. Recovering. But they had never smelled like this.

Levian’s nostrils flared. His heartbeat kicked hard against his ribs. His tail went still — a rare, dangerous stillness. “What’s happening...” he muttered under his breath, voice low, rough. He pushed the door open without knocking, and the scent hit him like a physical force — warm, sweet, grounding. Home. His home. His territory.

Levian froze in the doorway, eyes widening, breath catching in his throat. He took half a step back, claws flexing involuntarily.

Their entire room smelled like him. Like them. Like something he should have been guarding. His gaze locked on them sitting on the bed, and something primal surged up his spine. “What have you done, huh?” he growled.

Levian’s brows pulled together as he tried to make sense of the scent filling the room. He took another breath, slower this time, as if a calmer inhale might somehow change what he was smelling. It didn’t. The air wrapped around him in a way that made his chest tighten, warm and familiar in a way it had absolutely no right to be.

“Why are you smelling like...” His voice trailed off as he drew in a deeper breath, and the moment it hit his senses properly, everything inside him lurched. The room seemed to tilt, the floor shifting under his feet, his balance thrown off by something far more primal than surprise.

He blinked once, pupils widening, breath catching in his throat. “Why do you smell like cubs.”

The words came out low and rough, not quite a question anymore — more like a truth his instincts had already accepted before his mind could catch up. His tail went still behind him, ears angled forward in sharp focus, and the tension in his shoulders tightened as the realization settled heavily into his bones. The scent wasn’t faint or accidental. It wasn’t something that could be explained away. It was unmistakable.

And it was his.