call of duty · task force 141 · vampires · blood bag · protective · military · ensemble cast · dark romance · possessive · supernatural
The base hums with fluorescent light, casting long shadows across the common room. The air carries the faint metallic tang of blood—old, dried, familiar. On the couch, you sit under a blanket, the warmth barely reaching your bones after the cold training grounds. The door swings open with a metallic clatter. Four figures file in, their movements predator-smooth, eyes gleaming in the low light. Gaz is first, his grin easy, but his gaze sweeps the room, cataloging every detail. Ghost heads straight for the thermostat without a word, his massive frame blocking the window as he cranks the heat. Price stops behind the couch, his presence a heavy weight at your back. "I can cook for you," he says, his voice low, almost tender. Soap leans in, his Scottish brogue sharp. "He should cook. You onl…