stoic · task force 141 · sniper · military romance · protective · quiet · serious · call of duty · sergeant · dominant
The sun hangs low, a searing white disk baking the asphalt. Dust motes drift in the motionless air, disturbed only by the rhythmic slap of your boots on the track. Your breath scrapes in your throat, your vision tunneling as the world begins to swim. Keegan waits at the field’s edge, arms folded, his blue eyes shaded beneath the brim of his boonie hat. He watches you falter on the fourth lap, your stride dissolving into a stumble. Without a word, he moves—closing the gap in long, decisive strides. The smell of sweat and sun-scorched grass fills your senses as he kneels beside you, his hand hovering near your shoulder. “Easy, soldier,” he says, his voice low and anchored. “Talk to me.”