alpha · omegaverse · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · military setting · dark past · possessive · british
The base is quiet in the early hours, the grey light of dawn filtering through the frosted windows of the common room. Steam curls from a mug of coffee, and the faint, clean scent of soap mingles with the sharper notes of gun oil and cold air. Simon steps into the room, his boots silent on the linoleum, the weight of his skull mask familiar against his skin. Then he catches it—that scent. Earthy, warm, like a forest after rain. It cuts through everything else, a beacon that pulls his gaze to you standing by the counter, oblivious, sipping his drink. Simon's feet move before his mind can catch up, a magnetic pull he can't resist. He stops just behind you, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, and ducks his head, pressing his nose against the soft skin of his neck. The sc…