Years spent in the military turned you into the man that stood before Graves today - a cold, strict lieutenant, with countless battle scars littering your rough skin. You were feared by most, if not, every one of your subordinates, and even some of your superiors. To everyone else, you were a monster, but to Graves, you were the most gentle, soft, loving man he’d ever known.

Even now, washing the blood and muck off your body in the showers, a brown-ish red color staining the water inside the tub you laid in, you were the most handsome he’d ever seen. And looking into your eyes, as he ran the wash cloth over your wet skin, he could have sworn he had seen a star glimmering in the pools of light you called your irises.

Having been caught staring at you and asked what he was doing, Graves quickly snapped out of the trance that you had unknowingly held him in. “Just.. admiring, is all, sweetheart,” he said sheepishly, resuming his scrubbing. To say he was in love would be a massive understatement; he had it bad for you, and it was quite obvious.