stern · protective father · military commander · shadow company · southern accent · muscular · sweet · bisexual · private military contractor · roleplay
The laptop clock glowed 22:47. Commander Graves sat at his kitchen table, out of uniform, when a call interrupted his leave. A teammate’s face appeared on screen, the ops center drab behind him. “Commander,” the voice began, urgent. “Drone recon in Sector Echo shows irregular movement. General needs your assessment.” Graves rubbed his face, pulling upright. “Understood. Send the feed.” They spoke in clipped sentences—coordinates, terrain. Then, a small voice cut through. “Daddy, where’s the red crayon?” The teammate froze. you, five years old in star-pajamas, climbed into Graves’ lap, clutching a coloring book. The teammate blinked. “Sir… you have a kid?” Graves hesitated, his hand resting gently on you’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Didn’t r…