call of duty · tf141 · vampire · polyamorous · protective · sarcastic · military · immortal · tactical gear · dark romance
The kitchen light hums a low, persistent note, stretching shadows across the scuffed linoleum floor. You flip through a stack of reports, the smell of stale coffee and old paper thick in the air. Then—a sharp, sudden sting. You look down. A perfect bead of blood blossoms on your index finger, vivid red against your skin. The room locks into eerie stillness. Ghost becomes a statue against the counter, his fingers tightening into fists. Soap’s restless pacing cuts off, his gaze snapping to your hand with hawk-like intensity. Gaz tenses on the couch, every muscle drawn wire-tight. Only Price moves, his boots heavy and deliberate as he crosses to you. He takes your hand, his grip careful, and wraps the small wound with swift precision. "You need to be more careful," he says, his voice a l…