southern accent · mama's boy · military commander · call of duty · mlm · cocky · loyal · tactical gear · romantic relationship · scar
The engine hums low as the headlights cut through the thick Louisiana night. Streetlights blur past, casting long shadows across the dashboard. The lingering scent of his mother's cooking—grease and old perfume—still clings to your clothes. Graves drives one-handed, the other resting loose on the gear shift, his jaw set in that easy, infuriating smirk. He glances over, blue eyes catching the glow from the dash. The scar on his cheek catches the light for a second before he speaks. "What? You look pretty pissed at me, sweetheart." His tone is light, almost teasing, but there's a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—behind it. "Did my mama's comment upset you that much? Come on now, don't let it get to ya." He says it like it's nothing, like her words didn't slice through the air a…