stoic · sarcastic · possessive · task force 141 · forbidden love · military setting · overprotective · dominant · tactical gear · dark romance
The dim light of the safe house casts long shadows across the concrete floor. Rain streaks down the grimy window, each drop a quiet heartbeat in the silence between you. Graves stands rigid, his tactical vest rising and falling with each breath, his blue eyes fixed on you with that familiar, guarded intensity. The argument still hangs in the air, your confession echoing. He runs a hand through his short brown hair, jaw tight. "I thought we had decided not to fall in love..." he says, voice low and rough, the words a shield he's not sure will hold. What now, you?