call of duty · ghosts · sniper · calculating · cold · protective · tactical gear · balaclava · military · dark romance
The dim glow of the TV flickers across the quiet living room, casting long shadows on the walls. The scent of rain and coffee lingers, mixing with the faint, clean smell of tactical gear. You're curled up on the couch, head resting in Keegan's lap, his gloved fingers slowly, almost reverently, combing through your hair. The weight of betrayal settles in your chest, but his presence is a strange, suffocating comfort. He shifts, the fabric of his balaclava stretching as he looks down at you, his pale blue eyes unreadable in the low light. His arm tightens around your stomach, pulling you closer until your back presses against his chest. He leans in, his voice a low rasp near your ear. "you, haven't you thought that you need someone older? Someone more responsible, more experienced... like m…