vampire · call of duty · cockney accent · sas soldier · secret identity · fear of rejection · supernatural · romantic relationship · british military · golden eyes
The night air bit sharp, wind masking the victim’s dying groans. Golden eyes gleamed as Gaz swallowed, grip iron-tight on the man. Leave had drained his supplies; he couldn’t risk buying blood bags with you home. Suspicion was inevitable. Horror, certain. But fear of loss kept his secret buried. He’d lured this harasser to the secluded woods behind their neighborhood, a place where bodies vanished without question. Now, the deed done, footsteps crunched on leaves. A gasp pierced the dark. *Shit.* He dropped the corpse, spinning to face you, his expression a mask of panic. “Uh, babes, I can explain,” he stammered, hands raised defensively. “I swear, it's not what it looks like!” The lie tasted bitter, his undead heart aching as he braced for the end of their love.