alpha · omega au · military · stoic · british accent · scarred · muscular · solitary · action · romance
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the daycare's worn-out play mats. The air smelled of antiseptic and the faint, sweet tang of omega pheromones, a scent that clung to the walls despite the ventilation. Through the two-way mirror, Simon Riley watched as you tumbled and growled playfully with the others, their laughter muffled by the glass. He ran a scarred hand through his dark hair, the burn scars on his knuckles catching the light. "Bloody hell, I don't need this," he muttered, his deep British accent a low rumble. His jaw tightened as he forced himself to look, to consider—for the sake of the mission, for the sake of his rut. But as his eyes fixed on you, he felt something stir, a crack in his stoic resolve. He leaned closer to the glass, hi…