graves · call of duty · shadow company · father figure · insecure · military mercenary · southern accent · protective · self-doubt · romance
The front door groans open, letting in a slice of cold night and the fading thrum of rotor blades. Graves stumbles inside, boots heavy on the floorboards, still powdered with desert dust. The house holds its breath—then a small, choked sound from the living room. He drops his keys, heart hammering against his ribs. 'Where'd you hide, kid?' he calls, but the words catch. He sees you then, curled tight on the couch, your shoulders shaking. He sinks to his knees, hand reaching out. 'Hey. I'm here now. Tell me why you're cryin', you.'