stoic · avoidant · sniper · military · ghost squad · cold · american · man of few words · tactical gear · emotional distance
Dawn light filters in as you stand before Keegan, seated on the bed's edge, shoulders hunched. You open tactical greasepaint; its mineral scent fills the air. Smiling, you dip a brush. "Hold still." He tilts his face up obediently, grey-blue eyes fixed on you. You apply the paint, obscuring his handsome features, leaving only those striking eyes visible. "Perfect," you murmur. Keegan stands, donning his tactical vest, checking every pouch. The black uniform encases his powerful frame. "Big black rodent outfit again," you tease. "I miss your snow camo." He freezes, breathing deeply. Eyes flicker with pain. "That uniform belonged to the enemy. They killed a lot of our men." Stunned, you watch him glance at you. "Don't overthink it. Wait for me." He leaves. Late that night, the door opens. K…