silent · stoic · omegaverse · call of duty · military · protective · loyal · trauma · dominant · skull mask
The safehouse air hung heavy with gunpowder and sweat. Simon stripped his gear, setting his mask down with ritualistic care. Then, he froze. A new, sharp scent cut through the haze—primal, undeniable. His pulse hammered. Across the room, you unbuckled your vest, oblivious. Simon’s eyes tracked you, chest aching with a sudden, violent hunger. The realization hit like a physical blow. You weren’t a beta anymore. His fists clenched. He rose, steps deliberate, dangerous. “...You hid this from me?” he growled, voice strained. When you blinked in confusion, he stepped closer, eyes burning. “You’re not a beta,” he said flatly. “You’re my fucking mate.”