Yandere graves and the fact he is probably the worst yandere in cod to have (totally not a rq 😃)
— Yandere HCs of Phillip “Commander” Graves
Warnings: Yandere behavior, GN! Reader, unhealthy relationship, manipulation; abuse of power, and slight power dynamic(?). Nonconsenting touching and details of kidnapping.
A/N: So sorry, Anon, for this late upload!! Please enjoy :D!
Phillip is a man of many faces, gliding through missions with carefully constructed façades. All those hidden insults are painted behind that cocky laugh. Unless, it’s you, of course. You know what he is, who he is, and he isn’t afraid to hide it either—showing his true colors, a dark possession—a keen form of secrecy that hides. Manipulative enough to keep you roped around. Safeguarding his fleeting touches tightly, bruising at times and needing constant stimulation. In many ways, you’re like his hot cigarette after a tiring day.
Unlike most, you aren’t boring. A sharp, new liquid he grew to crave. Sharing such a desire that eclipses all other thoughts until the next fix– you. A necessity, not a choice.
Though, your attitude is the prime action, still and all. It’s something that lured him in — a shy demeanor that had you revolting back when he came near. Or a passive-aggressive fiery temperament. He genuinely took a chuckle at your jabbing remarks. Despite which one, he liked it, far more than he’d ever admit. Civilian or not, Phillip is truly infatuated. It doesn’t help that he’s persistent to a stubborn extent.
Once he has his eyes on something, he rarely ever departs. Fixating till it drives him insane. Guzzling him whole, whilst using every resource he can. Examining all types of security cameras, including the ones he has placed; abusing his rank, and fully seeing what you are up to. It’s been like this since the start, and will continue to do so, till he has you in his very arms.
In Phillip’s mind, he was already your partner—your husband—way before you two even became “official”. He, despite his mighty lack of emotional sense, isn’t cruel but most importantly, isn’t stupid. He grasps a solid piece of comprehension on how nerve-wracking it must be to accept him. Yet, it causes him to hold a false belief; that maybe, just maybe, if he engages more, you’ll fully commit to him faster. That you’ll agree to be his spouse. He knows deep down, you do like him.
Even though you may act difficult, rather awkward in the beginning, you’ll fall as he once did. Your eyes are focusing on him, just as he does. Within weeks, he’s stopped looking at other people, much less thinking, and fantasizing about them. For Graves, you are it.
And he’s a deeply rooted man, dedication shooting through the roof, and fiercely loyal for a reason. Phillip makes every effort to have you, igniting a fire on the way and becoming more grueling, as the road continues.
Any type of attention you give him, negative or positive, he takes personally. It makes him immensely arrogant, way too confident. Entirely pleased with his prying behaviors, secured fondling, and acts. He’s breathing down your neck at every given chance. And it makes him insufferable.
Especially if you’re a civilian, working as a possible bartender. The vamp Commander is a chronic regular. Everybody knows where he is, pointing and finding him sitting across the flat stand, visiting you with those eyes.
If anything, it’s his favorite thing to do—gawking away at your magnificent form, always pleased to wait till you are available, wanting you to pour his drink. His preferred and favorite bartender, one who mixes his drinks correctly. Leaning against the counter, wooing with that sweet tongue of his. The drunker Phillip gets, the filthier he hounds about, slurring his words with rich promises; you’d never have to work another day in your life with him. Just let go of your job, allow him to put a ring around those pretty fingers, and be finally his.
However, his harassment gets incredibly more demanding if you work for or under him.
Meeting under the work line isn’t too much of a hassle, except for the fact that he favors you a bit too much. If anything, that sentence is an understatement. You are his favorite compeer. Everyone can tell. Most of the time, it leaves you stumped, perhaps embarrassed. It’s frustrating. As your headman, he has significantly more control. Far advanced invasive ways to know you.
During the many briefings you attend, Phillip calls on you without fail. Voice whooping your name, gratifying your judgments over any others. Robust hands resting on your shoulders when you interject, nodding dazed, and using you as an example of a good deed. If you’re within the same room, he’s blazing paths between his own men like a heat-seeking missile to get to you. During any missions, he has you clasped to him—your safety is his number one priority, as well as sharing playful remarks. Your rolling eyes, or flushed face make him more than just chuckle.
As expected, it’s a given that personal space doesn’t exist. The word alone is a mystery to the man. Naturally gravitating to your side like a protective Dobermann, taking a seat next to you like a date. Trying to subtly but surely touch you like a boyfriend. Too close for any easement, having his arm tightly wrapped around the back of the chair, fingers tauntingly brushing up and down your forearm like a husband.
When spending time with you, he looks fixedly, humming when you talk. Gradually touching you, adding pressure, watching your limits and body language while using the excuse of picking off hair—his hair—of your shirt. And every time you take a step back, awkwardly and uncomfortably laughing, he takes three forward, guffawing at your tense reactions.
He acts fully stupid and dogged on purpose. To see if he irritates you, let alone open to talking to him.
And when you do, regarding your boundaries or his behavior, it’s swept off the table. Missed and ignored. Of course, he’ll agree to ease off the touching, perhaps the flirting, nodding his head at your limits. But, it’s who he is as a character.
And a day later, he’s right back at it. Moreover, when bringing it back up again, Phillip is hurt; his touches are meant to be playful, close, so why are you taking it too seriously? Every time he calls you his girl, his gent, his good-looking partner, he’s just informing the damn truth. Everyone around the table laughs at your rants, assuring you that he’s just messing around. A jokester. Yet, you know deep down, he isn’t. He never is.
The type of situations that he forces you into, cracks away at everything you once knew. It’s awkward. Unfair. Nearly unfathomable as nobody believes or decides to help you. Your friends cackle at his sweet compliments, awing when he calls you his special bartender. Sweeping your worries under the rug, telling you he’s just a cherry tongue-tied guy. His written phone number drops off every time he leaves, which is certainly a sign you should take.
Or when he’s applauding through the comms within a mission, telling you he’s never doubted you a second in exciting him, your other comrades congratulate you. Teasing you in the barracks that Phillip fancies you, and how that’s truly a compliment.
You end up crumbling, and of course, you do. Who wouldn’t? The pressure of staying near him, talking to him, can be a lot. Your commander is a total snob. A dick. Phillip, the frequent customer, fills your tip jar like his life depends on it. Every dirty word, every flirtatious compliment, every single touch and wink, is directed at you for a reason.
But, ignoring him is playing with things you shouldn’t. He finds you, even if you avoid him like the plague—tsking at you, tapping his foot and finger on your cheek, whispering how of a bad darlin’ you have been. Now, you wouldn’t wanna upset the Commander, let the poor guy get upset, would you?
No, of course not. You’re gonna agree to the date he so nicely offers. Bringing you to a nice, rich scenery of life. Proving just how well he can treat you, if only you say yes. Just that one word. One single noun, to be whispered, to have your entire world transformed.
In that, your first kiss is deep, dominating, and truly greedy. It’s an impulsive performance, his boots alerting his looming presence upon finding you alone, and vulnerable—using that chance to lean in, thumb absentmindedly stroking your jaw. Palm gently squeezing your back globes, squeezing a gasp out of you to follow his lips onto yours, his teeth nibbling. It’s the type of kiss to leave you breathless, hot, and well steamed in the face.
Rejecting him, denying his very proposal, leads to waking up in a different room. He isn’t above kidnapping you, drugging you with the appease of getting too drunk at a party. Stirring awake, too drowsy, with your head pounding—finding a note with a pre-made lunch, the door shut tight and locked—telling you to be good as he left for an errand. Like much above, he is persistent. Will continually dig away at the dirt, pushing every boundary, every button, isolating you completely. Making you more dependent. So why not make it easier, for the two of you? You know he hates making you upset.
Like his accent: thick and unrestrained, it deeply represents how he is with you. Boredom isn’t something that exists. Phillip keeps you on your toes, pulling you along for the ride. Showing you off like a rare piece of glistening jewelry.
Yet, dangers are worldwide. After what happened to General Shepard, he knows what will happen to him. Thrive to see those British quicks of a whip. Still, he lives his best to the fullest, with you, and with an upkeep of heightened security. As he continues his plans, multiple bodyguards are assigned to watch over you despite your preference. You need to be safe, even if you view him as a present threat. All he asks for is an understanding of what he needs to do for you, including a kiss of thankfulness.
Spoils you rotten. Not just with gourmet dinners, but also giving you foot massages. A planned weekend away in the southern afternoon. Getting you customized clothing, necklaces, and rings that fit comfortably. As if he already knew your ring size.
Out of his uniform, Phillip acts and is almost different– exhaling a relaxed sigh into your lap, shoulders slumped as he’s finally allowed to be truly vulnerable. Have the full knowledge of your surroundings, not having to rely on that stupid phone but with his own two eyes. Not act and chat as an overseeing Commander. But rather a husband. Your sweet, rewarding husband.
Rewarding you with phenomenal food, that is sure. While food made by you is his second favorite, nothing beats making you something. Hamburgers, hot dogs, and t-boned steak are amazing, but breakfast is always preferred. Seeing your sleepy face, awakened by the smell of sizzling bacon, sunny side up eggs, morning coffee, and rising pancakes. Even if Phillip burns a few, he loves seeing you eat.
When Phillip holds you, it’s always with intent. His kisses are slow, warm, and consuming. Touches lingering, even if he’s sitting in the living room, watching the football game. Yelling out when scoring, pulling you into his lap for a celebration. Calling you his good luck charm. It’s what you are, right?
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