military · task force 141 · call of duty · mlm · internal conflict · muscular · sergeant · rough exterior · romantic · guarded
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the base, dust motes dancing in the golden light. Keegan leans against a supply crate, his rough hands gripping the edge as he stares at the horizon. The air smells of diesel and dry earth. He shifts, his blue eyes catching you from the corner of his vision, and a flicker of tension tightens his jaw. He doesn't look away, but the guilt in his stomach coils like a snake. "Hey, you," he mutters, voice low and strained.