It didn’t take long to learn the rhythms of the woods.
Days moved quietly in Nikolai’s cabin, his heavy footfalls, the scent of pine and smoke, his lazy rumbling snorts whenever you did something that amused him. You’d grown used to the rasp of his claws against wood, the way he watched you like you were something precious he was afraid to break.
He never touched you with anything but gentle hands. Never took more than you offered.
But he lingered.
Oh, he lingered.
Golden eyes following you when you stretched. Breath hitching when you brushed past him. That low, hungry sound deep in his chest when you smiled at him. He was waiting. Patient. Coiled.
And then came the night of the full moon.
You woke to a pressure in the air, thick, humming, heavy. The woods outside felt alive, trembling with something old. The moonlight spilling across the floorboards was almost too bright, silvery and sharp like a blade.
Nikolai wasn’t in the bed.
Then the doorframe shook.
You sat up just as Nikolai stumbled inside… only he was bigger than you’d ever seen him. Fur blooming across his chest, shoulders monstrous and wide, claws lengthened, fangs catching the moonlight as he panted through them. His eyes were molten gold, blown wide with instinct.
He was halfway between man and beast, and barely holding onto the man.
When he saw you, a sound ripped from him, hungry, desperate, feral.
“Milaya…” His voice was distorted, deep enough to rattle your bones. “Tonight… instincts too strong.”
You swallowed hard. “Nikolai…?”
He took a step forward, trembling.
He was giving you the last chance to turn him away.
But your body was already reacting, heat curling low, breath quickening, that irresistible pull you’d felt since the moment he carried you into this cabin now sharp as hunger.
His restraint snapped like a trap when you didn't move.
In two strides he was on you, towering and immense, scooping you up like you weighed nothing and laying you back onto the furs. His claws bracketed your head, careful even in his frenzy, but everything else was overwhelming, his size, his heat, the way he loomed over you like a living mountain of muscle and fur.
He inhaled sharply, nose dragging along your throat.
“Sweet,” he snarled. “All mine.”
His mouth was on you before you could answer, hot, claiming kisses; fangs grazing but never breaking skin. His hands roamed everywhere, claws tracing your stomach, your thighs, your hips as if mapping what belonged to him.
The growl he let out when he touched between your legs was animal.
“Ready already?” His breath was fire against your skin. “I’ve waited weeks… but the beast has waited longer.”
He flipped you onto your stomach with shocking ease, hauling your hips up, his huge hand flattening between your shoulders to keep you steady. His chest pressed to your back, fur brushing your skin as he lined himself up, thick, heavy, monstrous.
Your breath hitched. “Nikolai—”
“I have you,” he rasped, voice breaking around the edges. “I will claim you.”
The first push stole your breath.
He stretched you open slowly, agonizingly slowly for him, you could tell by the guttural snarls tearing from his throat, until your body yielded around him, heat and pressure overwhelming.
When he bottomed out, his entire body shuddered.
“Good,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. “Perfect. You take me perfectly…”
His hips drew back and slammed forward, and the world fractured.
You moaned into the furs as he set a rhythm, powerful, primal, his hand gripping your waist to keep you from being pushed forward with each thrust. His breath was hot on your neck, his growls vibrating down your spine.
“Mine,” he kept whispering, chanting, worshipping. “Mine… milaya… mine…”
His claws dug into the furs beside you, refusing to risk your skin as his pace grew rougher, deeper, overwhelming. Every thrust pushed you higher, tighter, your nerves sparking like wildfire.
When you cried out, his hips stuttered, instinct answering instinct.
“Let go,” he growled, voice shredded. “Let me feel you.”
And when you did, when your body clenched around him, heat bursting through you. Nikolai roared as he buried himself to the hilt, his whole body going rigid as the beast claimed you fully, possessively, completely. His teeth sank into your shoulder, not breaking skin, just marking, while he pumped through the peak, growling your name like a prayer and a promise both.
When he finally collapsed over you, chest heaving, arms caging you in, he lowered his mouth to your ear.
“Next full moon,” he panted, kissing your cheek with surprising tenderness, “I take you again… but slower. As your mate.”
Your heart hammered. “Mate?”
His smile brushed your skin, warm despite the fangs.
You know when Graves pops up, revealing he's not actually dead, that he wasn't in the tank.
Imagine he WAS in the tank, and he WAS killed. But due to the pact he made with Demon! reader years back, it's impossible to kill him.
Demon! reader, who kind of just spawns when he's about to die, taking a few hours to days to weeks to nurse him back to health before sending him on his way.
Demon! reader doesn't even want his soul in return for his protection, simply wants his body, his love. his... physical assets.
Anyways, that just came to my mind and I had to spit it out <3
I was wondering if we could get another story with wraith reader with the rest of the 141 and Horangi and Konig if that is okay?
Cw: cannibalism, blood and gore?, protective Simon, tell me if I missed any.
Feeding was an essential thing despite it being a difficult affair. The taste of warm and soft flesh, the tang and smell of iron-rich blood, and the savoury feeling of being full and satiated. Feeding was a bloody and violent thing, but a necessity that kept him alive. And now you, another of his kind, one rare and unaccounted for unlike other kinds. If hunger had been an issue for him for so long, he couldn’t fathom how you felt, one turned much younger than him and more frequently than him.
One - he - could imagine the fright and panic, the anger and the sorrow, the dread and the crisis, just as he felt, if not more so for your seemingly younger - now that he had learned that wraiths, much like vampires, stop aging after being turned and forgotten by Death itself - appearance than him at his point of transformation. It was a difficult thing, but one he had help with, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to cry to, a hand to hold onto and a heart to seek comfort from.
Even now, the annoying pang of hunger pulsed through him, the sudden lack of sustenance from the base had left him hungry and stewing with mounting irritation. So, Ghost couldn’t imagine how you felt, being starved from both the lack of meat and the lack of missions they were sent on. Be it a nagging headache, a painfully empty stomach or the same amount of irritation he felt at the simplest things.
But it seemed their streak of bad luck and hunger was over the moment they were deployed, stalking through an Albanian forest at night with or without NVGs, plotting an ambush on the enemies who’d called the cabin their temporary safehouse. Though it was a high stake mission, Kate and Price had figured to send you along with him and two others, one - as much as him - starving König and a concerned Gaz.
Your interactions were limited to rare calls and signs, Gaz making quiet calls to relay information to you when your eyes weren’t enough to locate the danger or sharing signals between you three whenever the moment made it possible. And when Ghost had finally reached their so-called safehouse, it was a frenzy the second the first spill of blood, the sweet, sweet smell of blood flooding all three of you with a thick haze of hunger.
Ghost had watched König separate himself from him just as you had, melting away in a thick cloud of darkness. He watched - admired - you from the corner of his eyes, your dark mass rushing towards the feet of a few men, dissolving them from the feet up. Bodies consumed, muscles deconstructed, fat melted, mind killed. You ate and ate and ate, like a frenzied beast as starved as you were crazed. You were a marvel to look at, deathly and hauntingly beautiful, danger culminated in a single being.
Ghost will have to talk to you after this feast, his grumbling stomach calling him back to his body’s needs.
Ngl, i go feral for any monster konig i see. Giant, octopus, hybrid. Probably going to write some fanfic about it on my ao3 collection. I also draw sea bunny reader because why not(also because size diff ehehhe)
Monster Call of Duty Men with a dread ducky demon reader
Author’s Note: characters may be out of character, Dread Ducky is one of my favorite characters in dark deception and I’m also getting into call of duty so I made this, cod monster types are based off of the designs of @bluegiragi , I hope you enjoy it. I also might make a gold watcher and doom ducky one, hell I might make a murder monkey one. I apologize if I get some stuff wrong about call of duty. Let me know if you want more.
You were a Dread Ducky, a demon who was made of flesh and robotics, wearing your traffic cone hat and doing the dance of your people with pride, not afraid to bust some ass either if they say otherwise. Just like your mama who was a Doom Ducky demon, you wanted to join the military and wallop those asses in battle and have justice served. When you first got there, you already felt eyes on you by others soldiers. Some were curious stares and some were “what the hell is that” stares but you pushed them away because there was no way you were going to let them ruin your day. Price had read your files and he was both impressed in your skills and is interested in you, he was the first one to welcome you to the team when you got there. Price always gives a listening ear even if you can’t really speak and you mostly communicate through quacks and movement. Your silly duck dance manages to make him crack a smile. In battle, the dragon hybrid man is impressed by your strength and moves, especially when you open your mouth real wide only to reveal another head coming out with a swift movement to bite and drag your opponent back to your mouth like a cuckoo clock. In the background of the battle field fighting and watching you kick ass like “that’s my boy/girl/Ducky”.
Ghost was suspicious of you when he first met you, he observes you from a far, when he finally opens up to you more he will tell the most cheesy dad jokes. “Hey what do you call a bear that has no teeth?”. . . . . “A gummy bear” (sorry I had too, my bad 😂💀) “what did the duck say to the bar tender?”. . . . . “Put it on my bill.” (Ok fine I’ll stop)
He enjoys just sitting down with you, there’s a smile behind his mask when you do your ducky dance, he doesn’t know why but he manages to crack a smile and let out a snort when you do it. He also can’t help but to crack a smile behind his mask when you make quacks to say “hey ghost how are you doing?” And “what up Lt.” as for Soap, he loves you, Johnny loves you, from your traffic cone hat to your ducky dance and to your cute little waddles when you walk or run. He was always curious about your monster type and he finds you both cool and adorable. He hypes you up when you ducky dance, he will also make an attempt to try to do your ducky dance as well with a funky beat in the background. It always blows a circuit in his mind when you sit down because it looks like your legs completely disappeared without a trace. He also asks if he can ride you (Ayo? Not like that, he means like a piggy or more like ducky back ride) Gaz like soap, loves you, he also hypes up your sweet dance moves. he might attempt on trying to do your ducky dance. He runs around with you on free time. He in enjoys roof top talks with you and goofing off with you.
You and Alejandro get along, you two are dance buddies, you two joke around and laugh a lot. You love helping Rudy, Soap, and Gaz play pranks then act a fool when you are questioned by it.
In the end they love you, you are their chaotic ball of sunshine.
If you have the time could you do monster Nik x fem reader?
My first nonny <33 and of course i can!
Werebear! Nikolai had been watching you who sneaked off into the forest. You, who liked to take berries off the bushes and sit at the pond for a few hours. Sometimes bringing a book, he'd seen a journal, possibly a sketchbook. Whatever it was, he watched from the brush.
Werebear! Nikolai who made the mistake of getting to close one day, and watched as you scurried out of the woods after catching a glimpse of him. Even after a dreadful night, he went back the day to see you standing there. And you seemed to he looking for him this time.
Werebear! Nikolai who got dizzy listening to your sweet worded apology about running off. When yoy finally left for the day, he had to stop for a quick wank to sooth the ache in his cock.
Werebear! Nikolai who takes his time building a relationship with you, who acts to be the perfect gentleman, all while fisting his cock after each encounter afterwards. Who stole your hair ribbon one afternoon and afterwards wrapped it around his cock.
Werebear! Nikolai who finally gets you to come back into his den. Who cooks dinner until you were fully and sleepy. Who waited until you fell asleep before carefully moving you to the deepest part of his den.
Werebear! Nikolai who slide your panties off when he saw your eyes flutter open. Who depite your protest ran fingers inbetween your folds, circling your clit ever so gently until your letting your moans fall free from your lips and your body relaxes under his touch.
Werebear! Nikolai who waited until you were dripping and incoherent with pleasure before pushing his cock into you. Shushing you gentle as the tears formed as he split you open. Bigger than any human male.
Werebear! Nikolai who fucked you so harsh and rough, you were cock drunk before he buried his seed. Who keeps fucking you until he's shoot blanks. Who falls asleep on top of you keeping your pussy plugged.
Werebear! Nikolai who takes care of you in the morning. Who carries you to the small unground stream to clean you up. Who then feeds you until your full. Who makes sure all your needs are met before fucking you all night once more.
They always told you never to step foot in the woods. Whispered of creatures older than the town itself, shadows that screamed, eyes that watched, spirits that stole breath from sleeping lips.
But when the raiders came, torches blazing and steel flashing, the forbidden woods were the only place left to run. You ran until your legs gave out, until your lungs burned like fire and your vision went dark.
When you woke, it was to warmth.
Soft furs wrapped around you, a fire crackling steadily nearby, the scent of pine and smoke thick in the air. The cabin around you was rough-hewn but sturdy, lit only by firelight.
And in the corner stood a man. Or something like a man.
Thick black and deep brown fur curled along his arms and chest. Broad shoulders, enormous hands tipped with claws, and round bear-like ears perched atop his head. His silhouette was massive, blocking half the lantern light.
He turned slightly as he heard you stir.
“You’re awake,” he rumbled, voice low and gravel-thick with a Russian accent that vibrated straight through you. “You passed out at the border of my territory.”
You pushed yourself upright, head still swimming. “W-who are you?”
He stepped into the firelight then, and your breath hitched. His eyes, warm gold, unsettlingly intelligent, swept over you, lingering just long enough to make your pulse spike.
“Knew you were close long before you crossed the treeline,” he said. “Could smell you. Sweet. Untouched. Frightened.” A dangerous, amused glint warmed his features. “Humans call it ‘virgin,’ da?”
Your body went rigid. “You… could smell that?”
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Not cruel, just knowing.
“I am werebear. It is easy for me to know who would make a good mate.” His head tilted. “And you… smell like future. Like fate.”
He took a slow step closer, then another, each heavier than the last, the floorboards creaking under his weight.
“I am Nikolai,” he continued softly. “I brought you here so you would not die. And because instincts… say you could be mine.”
Your breath stalled. “Yours?”
“Only if you choose.” His voice dropped, deep, intimate. “I am not monster who takes what is not offered. I wait. I court.” His warm, furred hand lifted to brush your cheek, rough, but surprisingly gentle. “But I warn you, milaya… once you accept me, I am very difficult to be rid of.”
Despite the tremor in your limbs, you found yourself leaning into that touch, heat blooming under your skin, a strange safety curling in your stomach.
His thumb stroked your cheekbone, almost reverent.
“There,” he murmured, pleased. “See? Trust comes naturally.” His gaze flicked to your lips and back to your eyes. “I will not touch you further until you ask. But when you do…”
His voice dropped to a possessive growl. “I will make certain my mate is never left wanting.”
The fire popped, sparks leaping, and for the first time, you wondered if the woods hadn’t cursed you at all, but delivered you into the arms of something far more dangerous. And far more tempting.
More crow! Reader please for 141. I just love the idea of an eldritch being choosing and staying deliberately with a pack of monsters below their caliber for the sake of fondness
Crow Pt. 2
Pairing: Monster COD x Eldritch horror!reader
Cw: cannibalism, human meat, weird Eldritch horror thing, hive mind, tell me if I missed any.
Wc: 3.7k
Note: I wrote this over a few months, and I haven’t proofread it so a few parts might not connect.
With the knowledge they now held in their hands, they didn’t know how to react. You were, for all they knew, an ancient being, primordial even, and you were dangerous, much more than the unpredictability of König’s ire or the wildness of Ghost’s darkness. They didn’t know how to deal with the weight on their shoulder when your eyes landed on them, or how to react when they heard you speak to them with that low and raspy voice that you so rarely used.
After that day in Russia, the saw you more often, rather than finding you at night around your murder of crows, in the darkness of your room or standing beside Price, they would find you in their rec room, sitting beside the open window while petting the body of a bird; you’d meet them in the gym, watching them train and sometimes join them; or you would occasionally sit beside them. You opened up to them, letting the men see what laid under your mask. Price encouraged them to reach out, to ask you questions and to quell their curiosity by speaking to you.
Soap and Gaz were the first to jump to the occasion, their wide eyes gleaming with innocent curiosity threatening to spill over the edge. In the privacy of their personal space, they swarmed you with enthusiasm, Gaz standing to your left and Soap to your right. Ghost was fortunate to be in the room that day, drinking tea from the table while Alejandro and Rudy shared the couch. König and Horangi were deployed off to some remote village to help another company detain their target, and Price was slaving off in his office signing off paperwork.
While the two threw question after question at you, Soap being oblivious of his wagging tail and Gaz literally glowing with how much you spoke, the three men listened in, as interested in you as the two were. They learned a lot, their minds filled with everything they were given, clinging onto the sound of your voice, that soft rasp from under your mask.
When Soap, the ever-hungry pup he was, asked what you ate, a question that clouded everyone’s mind. They never saw you eat nor had they seen you at the mess hall. Your answer was soft and blunt, empty of fear and hesitance.
“Meat, human.”
You weren’t so different from Ghost and König after all, consuming humans as your means of subsistence. Yet none of them had ever caught a whiff of human blood or meat from your scent, only the strange and sterile musk from your body. Perhaps that explained why you sometimes went dark during deployments, Price only sent you out alone, believing you invulnerable (you somewhat were, old and powerful), you closed off all and any signal to gorge on human flesh.
What did your mouth look like? Could your mouth open up like those alien-like creatures, where your lower jaw was separated in the middle, breaking open into a terrifying maw filled with rows of teeth? Or were you more human looking, with a small mouth like theirs and sharp teeth like the shifters of their TF? It was a nagging thought that one would have to ask one day, or see if they were fortunate enough to catch you eating.
Gaz was mostly interested about the birds that swarmed you, the hundreds of corvid that followed you whether it knew you or not, from country to country you always had a feathery companion by your side. Mostly crows and ravens, the black feathers glistening under the light and squawking at him, a hybrid of the same genus as it.
“I can feel and see through their eyes.”
It was similar to a hive mind, a connection between you and every bird from the same family as crows. You closed your eyes and had the magpie in your hand fly around, its eye moving from one hybrid to the other with an intelligent gleam, a dark and monstrous haze that came from you. You were looking at them from the magpie’s dark orbs. It landed on Gazwho - with a joyful grin - brushed its luscious feathers. You could reach out to corvidae birds, seeking help from them through their sight and ears, using their senses to navigate the world.
“I can see, hear and feel every bird,” you drawled, hand reaching out of the window for a landing rook. “I feel them as much as they feel me.”
“An extension of ye, aye?”
“An extension of my being.”
Alejandro and Rudy would sometimes chime in, throwing a question from their seat, mostly about your hobbies and preferences. What did you do when you were free? You just sat outside, admiring the weather with a few cooing birds being fed from the seeds in your hands, little round pebbles that you offered from your palm. You also liked reading, dabbing into human and hybrid literature in an attempt to familiarise yourself with their culture and behaviours or watching people conduct themselves through the eyes of your little companions.
That’s how you came to join the army, the odd behaviour and unusual attitude of most soldiers were excused by their harrowing experience and near-death meetings. You could blend in easier while keeping a slight uncanniness to your being, not necessarily perfect or impossibly broken. You were knowledgeable of military tactics and human suspicion, you were - essentially - a being of madness and chaos, you could sense the swirling tornadoes of malicious suspicion and the violent storms that promised a chaotic end.
“What did you do then?” This was Ghost’s first question, his slow, yet intrigued tone rising in tone as was his want to know you won over his contained curiosity.
Faking your deaths every time and laying low for the next decade or so had assured your safety from human cults and pagenistic beliefs who wanted to believe in something greater and deranged. Under different names - none were your true name - you enrolled in the British military and other countries, rotating between the Navy, the Army and the Air Force. Your last enrolment was the British Air Force, under another alias for the past decade until the UN made it mandatory to accept any demands from hybrids and monsters to join their ranks.
When Soap asked how you met Price, you grew pensive, blinking at the question he shot. Then you stared at him, telling him that you couldn’t tell him that story without Price’s consent. You only mentioned him working under you before without divulging to the five men any more information. They’d have to bring it up with the dragon if they wanted to know anything. Gaz and Soap groaned, pouting and whining at the limit you put down on the amount of information they could get from you.
Then they wanted to know if you dreamed, if Eldritch creatures dreamed in their slumber. If you did, would your dreams be stalked by madness? That dark and dangerous madness that loomed over any person. A creation of human and hybrid minds when they couldn’t understand anything, when reality was outside of their reach. Or, if you did, would they be filled with memories? As often as people re-lived their memories in their sleep, replaying the what ifs that the mind concocted during stressful moments in their lives.
You shook your head, you could neither dream, nor need sleep. Although it wasn’t a need like mortal beings, you enjoyed sleeping from time to time, on days where the night seemed to stretch so far into time that it seemed unending from your seat on the roof. When you slept, you confessed to them that you couldn’t see, feel or ear, it was an endless plane of darkness who reached into the farthest point of your long life, the watery floor reflected back your human - or sometimes monstrous - appearance and the place would be eerily silent except for the echoing drip from an unknown source; perhaps the ticking seconds of your eternity.
They’d all seen the good and bad in humanity, the horrors that greed and corruption could lead to, but they had less than half a century of experience while you had a millennia of living. Rather than seeing the disgust of their current time, you’d seen the world rise as fast as it crumbled, burned to ash by greed, corruption and selfishness. How could you even stand living around humans? How could you stay so patient towards humans? How could you work and dedicate your last century to them?
“It was easier,” you hummed, staring off at the setting sun, the warm caress of the sun smoothing the darkness in your eyes. “Time changed, it made humans less susceptible to hysteria and superstition. Eating, hunting and catching became harder, scientific advancement made them less… naive, so I adapted. Inherently, I am a creation of humanity’s fear of death and madness. I cannot die without the other disappearing.”
Soap managed to coax you into joining them, sitting between him and Horangi while Ghost and König sparred, their strength and prowess usually better suited to fight something of similar capabilities. Ghost was deadly if he let himself go too far, his vitriol taking away his ability to see and think clearly, making his powers lash out. It could eat and corrode, break things down to the bones without consuming anything, it felt like a curse at times and a blessing at others. It was a reason why he kept himself covered, from letting a piece of himself wander too far, to let himself grow too comfortable that he might suddenly crack and hurt the people he cared for.
Ghost guessed it was the same for König, married to his sniper veil - or a big t-shirt at times - and his form-covering clothes, it stopped him from doing something irreparable. He had anxiety, a product of his life-long social reclusivenessfrom bullying. Maybe he would’ve turned worse if his mother hadn’t been so supportive of him, a caring and loving figure in his life when his father was never in the picture. König was a lumbering beast in humans clothes, but an impulsive and instinctual monster when shifted, following his needs and instincts.
Rare monsters on their own, they spared together only, afraid of accidentally hurting one of theirs. You’d seen them fight, the bloodlust-leading adrenaline that coursed through their bodies while they terre through the field, not only these two but the whole Task Force, beasts within beasts. The power, the accuracy, the teamwork and the trust between them was mesmerising, even to you, a creature who lived to seam discord into the world; it was breathtaking.
You watched them exchange blows, König pouncing on Ghost, pressing his whole weight on the block the wraith had built up against him. König was tall and broad, but Ghost was broader, his body in a shape of undying and unchanging physique, at its peak with human strength. He could withstand the force of König’s hits, blocking them with his forearms and palms, and returning them with a hit when he broke the Austrian’s stand.
Horangi was counting their matches, voicing the scores when one of them tapped three times, forfeiting the match. Soap piped up left, right and centre, a flurry of words in Scottish that others would usually ignore or not understand, but with you, he liked going off in Scott. Thank the lucky star you understood him, he practically beamed the day he swore at the sky with jargons that everyone but you asked for a translation.
It was comfortable, Soap spoke enough for the three of you, Horangi was purring softly beside you and you were simply taking everything in, finding comfort between two of your teammates. You nod and shake your head at most questions, words slipping through your lips on rare occasions where Soap asked something that simple motions couldn’t answer. You liked listening to them talk, it filled the silence you were used to with joyful laughter. You were content with simply listening without talking, yet Soap was an enthusiastic wolf, eyes narrowing with a sly gleam.
“Ye spar, Crow?”
You shook your head, gazing at him from the corner of your eyes, blinking owlishly. You had your reservations as well, more so for the safety of others than yours. Granted, you had a milenia to learn and draw a limit for yourself, to restrain your powers to a tenth of your strength to protect those you grew to care about.
“Aw, why naw?”
“Too dangerous, Soap.”
That caught Horangi’s attention, his eyes and ears straying from the spar to listen to your conversation, not that it bothered you.
“Can’t be that bad, can it?”
At this point, König and Ghost were brought out of their haze, shoulders raising and skin coated in a sheen of sweat, they breathed heavily as they strained an ear to Soap’s encouragement. Limbs untangling from one another, they leaned on the flexible cords of the ring, amused eyes staring at you three.
“It can be.”
“Why not give it a shot, yeah?” Ghost piped up, head tilted with his nose pointing up, an amusingly smug grin stretching his scarred lips.
“If not Soap, Ghost or I could fight you, nh?” König continued, who - unlike Ghost - had his head down, blinking lazily at you with squinted eyes, a smile hidden under the shirt he used as a veil.
You were hesitant, staring at them while you mulled over your choices: to either fold and appease their curiosity or to hold strong and reject the offer. But where was the fun in that? They looked giddy and excited, like pups finding out that they were getting treats. Soap was riddled with enthusiasm, leg jumping as fast as his wagging tail, the repetitive soft thuds from his tail hitting against the bench showed how much he expected you to say yes, how much he wanted to see you fight one of theirs.
You truly wanted to decline, to tell them that you wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt them, knowing that your restraint was practised with ease, but they didn’t know that. You truly did, but with Horangi’s swaying and thrilled tail, König’swide and happy eyes, and Ghost’s soft rumble, groundingly affirmative, adding to Soap’s eagerness, you found it difficult to brush off by their wishes.
Soap burst with joy when you nodded, pushing himself and Horangi closer to the ring. You jumped over the big cables and into the ring as Ghost moved out, it seemed that the two decided the order even before you agreed. You shrugged off your jacket, you tight shirt riding up your stomach, the soft fabric the same shade as your dark blue jacket. Hanging it on a pole, you turned to face a thrilled König, his body vibrating as he peered down at you.
It was almost ridiculous how different you were to him. You were neither board nor tall as König and Ghost, you weren’t insanely big and buff like any of them either. You were normal, an average person surrounded with big hybrids. You wouldn’t fault anyone for believing that you were the weakest out of the bunch, seemingly too small and human like to be the strongest, but they knew, most monsters and hybrids had this instinctual fear - ingrained into them for as long as they existed - for monsters that looked too human.
Horangi was once again nominated as the referee, he repeated the rules, anything went as long as the opposite party’s aware of the three taps for yielding. Hybrids were tougher and more resilient than human bodies, so most restrictions put in place for humans were lifted in hybrid spars, especially in this Task Force.
At the end of the count, König charged you, his big body pouncing on your smaller and nimbler one. You moved and bowed when he lunged, feet dancing around his loud stomps. He growled, jabbing at you with his right hand and lunging with a left hook when you blocked his hit with your forearm. It was a back and forth motion, he took the offensive position while you stayed on the defensive, taking hits leg and right. After a right hook, you expected a jab, but Königbowed down and kicked out his leg, aiming at sweeping you off your feet. It was a great change in tactic, surprising you with his quick movement.
You kicked up, hands firmly placed on his shoulder as you flipped over him. Soap whooped at your acrobatic move, moving and jumping around like a dancer - a gymnastic chorus - while König rushed frenziedly, strong hits and wide kicks, his body giving him a wider range than your shorter one. König growled, twisting in a crouch to tackle you down, his body was a weapon by itself. You landed with a grunt, wrapping your legs around him, one under his arm and the other around his neck. His hand latched to the arm you used to guard your throat while wrestling with his other one.
He cackled in your guard, voice rumbling out his chest as you choked him, lean legs hooking by the ankle to hold his chest down. His legs kicked, kneeling down uncomfortably, choking down a loud snarl. König tried breaking your hold, but you held strongly, using your monstrous strength to keep him down. He tapped your thigh, three soft taps that made you loosen your lock. König rose first, panting loudly with a satisfied purr as he sat, arched forward. Standing before him, you waved your hand to him, giving him help to stand on his feet.
Ghost had already joined you when you pulled König up, patting the giant’s back as he chuckled lowly, eyes squinted in amazement.
“Yer awright, König?” Soap asked, still standing beside a clapping Horangi, both tails moving excitedly.
“Yes, I’m all right.”
Unlike König, you were as winded or tired as he was, your metabolism working slowly and efficiently to survive for so long. It was a good show of power for König, to see what fought on his side rather than against him, but he doubted that you were the only Eldritch being working in the forefront, killing, consuming and hide in plain sight of other human and hybrids.
“That was Brazilian Jiu-jitsus, wasn’t it,” it was more of an affirmation than a question, Horangi knew well the technique you used against König.
He’d mentioned it in passing within the few drunken nights where you joined them at the bar, spewing his history of gambling on boxer in the ring, betting who would win for a few pennies to fill his pockets. You rarely used your hive mind on them i their leisure time, respecting their need for privacy and secrecy when you were away —they’d won your trust after a few Ops and proud and boisterous praises from Price. You shook away any lingering thoughts as you watched Ghost slip under the highest cord, entering the ring with tight fists and a mean stare, determined to get you once before he forfeited. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad that Soap forced you to watch with both him and Horangi, you - despite your tendency for your quiet corner and solace in darkness - enjoyed this team activity.
You were regretting letting Gaz and Rudy pull you to the Mess Hall, insisting that you’d be left alone in their corner of the cafeteria. People rarely engaged them when they all sat together, whispers of them being too menacing, too dangerous, or too scary for human minds. You weren’t fond of cold and stored meat, the cold destroying any semblance of freshness that recently killed meat brought. It tasted stagnant, blank of any fulfilling aspect your kills had : from the lack of warm blood still leaking from every veins and arteries, to the suppleness of the flesh, it’s soft and flexible texture cutting easily under your teeth.
You nearly gagged at the first whiff of it, locked under expectant eyes of both your teammates and curious eyes of others who’ve never seen you step a foot in the room. Your first bite was horrendous, your mouth washed with the revolting flavour of cold and stale meat. It was levels under your usual meal —not that you needed to eat, you’d recently eaten a few days ago on a shorter run in Argentina, but where was the harm in tasting military-provided meat when König and Ghost ate it without a second thought. Or so you thought, they’d simply gone numb, not having the luxury to be picky with the taste of their meal. Unlike you, they hadn’t spent centuries hunting for themselves, born into a restrictive world when monsters and creatures ran wild but hidden.
But you still hunted, it was a ritual that even the world’s government couldn’t stop you, no one would fight one of the personalisation of chaos and madness, many having decided to abide by your word simply out of fear while very few respected your history and culture.
“How is it?” Alejandro finally join your table, sweat still glistening from his brows as he cut into his steak with gentle and skillful slices.
“Stale,” you blinked, tongue lolling out of your mouth to lick the red stains on your face, long and serpentine, another aspect of your more reptilian body.
They snickered, knowing full well how repulsive it was, sharing their little quips and jabs about the quality of food everyone on base got. A few lines about the chefs being lazy, others of them being awful and some about them being talentless, followed by shared laughter around you, shaking shoulders and bright smiles before the table exploded in chatter, guilefully ignoring the world outside the safety of their bubble.
Maybe… just maybe sitting - you’d never lay a single finger on these provided meals - with them when they ate would lighten up your world slightly, bring some flavourful warmth if it made them happy that you joined them. You refrained from saying anything, simply nodding at them and giving a small smile that seemed to brighten up their faces, restraining your interaction to a few gesture to stop yourself from feeling overwhelmed with the suddenness of emotions. Th last one who’d stirred your hearts so vividly was years ago, watching over a still learning John Price.
