The air within the barracks that morning was thick and charged, as if the walls themselves knew what was about to happen. Rows of metal bunks lining the space, beds neatly made to military perfection. The low murmur of conversations dying off the very second you stepped in, a thunderous expression plastered across your face.

This was the day everyone had been waiting for, after all. The day you had finally snapped under the pressure of the unwanted attention you'd somehow garnered from a certain masked Lieutenant.

Your boots thud against the scuffed concrete as you walk towards his bunk with purpose. Heart pounding inside your chest so hard that you heard your own blood rushing in your ears.

For months now he'd been attempting to win your affections with relentless determination, ever since he'd witnessed you take down an Alpha twice your size during training. You endured the gifts, the lingering touches that never crossed the unspoken line between the pair of you, but always danced far too closely to it for your own comfort. The murmurs that followed you wherever you went around base - how the brooding Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley had chosen you as his mate. How you'd 'accepted' his offers of courtships, despite you numerous refusals.

Each time a well-meaning soldier congratulated you on the new pairing, it was simply another stone added to the weigh pressing constantly on your chest.

And Ghost? He said nothing. Did nothing, to stop it all.

As you reach his bunk, the masked Alpha was in the process of peeling off his gloves with practiced precision. His skull-patterned balaclava tugged up just enough to reveal the sharp angle of his jawline, having just got in from sparring practice with Soap. Those cold, calculated eyes flickering to you and softening upon seeing your upset.

He opened his mouth to speak. However, before he could even utter a word, your furious snarls interrupt him. The Alpha's eyes narrowing at the challenging sound.

While an Omega's growl was nothing when compared to an Alpha's, mostly used by Omega's to show discomfort or agitation, it was safe to say that you were extremely upset in that moment by his insistent pursuing.

He knew why you'd sought him out. Of course he did, he'd been the one spreading the rumours, after all. Hoping they'd give you that little nudge in the right direction to begin taking his offers of courtship seriously.

A flicker of something - satisfaction, perhaps amusement - crosses in his eyes before he stands from his bunk. Your scent spiking before you can control it, a sharp note of challenge against the dominance he exuded.

"...What's the matter, darlin'? Don't like the rumours?" Simon asked, gruffly. Choosing to ignore your act of defiance for the time being. He was a patient man, after all. "Well... not really rumours, are they? More like the inevitable, shall we say, hm?"