"This is... certainly most unusual." the blonde woman commented slowly, her eyes glued to your form as you sat quietly on the giant’s lap.
They had you inside their massive black van now, seated on plush seats in the back while someone named Laswell analyzed you. Despite their attempts to rock you to sleep, anxiety and nerves had left you frozen in König’s arms the entire time as you waited for the car to arrive.
And this woman was freaking scary!
They all were, of course, but you had thought that another girl would make you feel more at ease.
THAT WAS NOT THE CASE.
She wasn’t particularly tall for a vampire, but she was still easily bigger than any human woman you had ever met. Her eyes were red, like any other vampire’s, though hers were much lighter—muted. She was blonde, her hair tied in a low bun adorned with red and black jewels.
And you were pretty sure they were real jewels, considering she was also dressed to the nines. While the other two wore more military/action-heavy clothing—despite their outfits also looking very expensive—this woman was dressed in a snug black suit. No tie, but more importantly, no undershirt. Just a blazer that left a bit of her cleavage exposed.
It made you blush a bit when you realized what you were seeing.
She also just looked imposing, one hand against her mouth as she stared down at you on König's lap with intelligent eyes.
"She refuses to sleep or relax." König muttered in that heavy, low voice of his, making you try to look up at his covered face once again.
He didn’t seem to mind your movement or curiosity—only making sure that you remained seated on his lap and didn’t attempt to run.
“I have never seen a fledgling like this.” Horangi hissed under his breath, his voice taut with unease. He crossed his arms firmly over his chest, standing beside Laswell. “Who would be foolish enough to mistreat a fledgling here? This is our territory. Who would dare?”
“I have never seen such a vicious turning bite…” Laswell murmured slowly, lowering herself slightly to take your face in her grasp. Her long nails tapped lightly against your skin as she tilted your head upward, exposing more of your neck. “This will be taken to tribunal. A crime of this nature is not merely an offense—it is an abomination.”
The way her face scrunched up in genuine disturbance made you realize that this situation might be more serious than you had first anticipated.
König’s hand rose to your neck, his grip gentle yet firm as he held your head in place, keeping your throat exposed. His other hand moved to the buttons of your polo shirt, undoing them one by one to widen the opening, revealing more of the strange, crack-like marks on your skin.
“...It was a method of torture, in old Europe.” König murmured, his voice thick with his accent as he examined the bite himself. Where the teeth had torn through flesh, the marks spread in jagged streaks, making it impossible to tell where the bite had first landed. “Vampires’ venom would be harvested from their enemies and injected into humans—forcing a fledgling transformation within the depths of torture chambers.”
“Right. But that’s what puzzles me—the sire.” Laswell drawled slowly, her eyes narrowing in thought and quiet disdain as her fingers continued to trace your damaged skin with unsettling gentleness. “It is instinctual for a sire to care for their fledgling… yet it is clear this was not done with a mere syringe. These marks—this wound—suggest it was inflicted by the sire themselves.”
"Ah...!" You flinched slightly as her finger brushed over a particularly sore spot, but you couldn’t pull away, not with König still holding your head in place.
The woman immediately withdrew her hand, crossing her arms neatly as she examined you for a few moments longer.
"She's conscious enough to feel this?"
“Surprisingly, yes, she seems to be.” Horangi replied, kneeling to meet your eyes, his right hand coming up to rest lightly on your lap. “I can’t even fathom how, but I’m almost certain she’s somewhat coherent.”
“Coherent." Laswell repeated, her brow raised—not questioning, but emphasizing.
“She is speaking. We asked her about her sire, and she didn’t know how to answer. I’m not sure if it’s the usual confusion from young fledglings who’ve just been turned, or if she truly doesn’t understand what it means, but she was able to comprehend us enough to answer verbally.”
That made Laswell let out a short bark of laughter, utterly flabbergasted. The surprised look on her face only made you feel even more unsettled.
“No, it’s the last option.... I don’t know what a ‘Sire’ is...!” you protested weakly, your small hands coming up to try and pry König’s grip from your neck.
Your first coherent phrase since they took you caused all three of their heads to snap toward you, their eyes drilling into your still annoyed and frightened expression.
“What...?” The blond woman stared at you, her face showing the most surprise it could muster. “She... is she actually sound of mind right now?”
"Yes...? I mean, I don’t see why I wouldn’t be, it’s just—goddammit, let go!" You cut yourself off, whining in frustration up at König as you struggled to make him move his hand from your neck. He hesitated for a moment but eventually relented. "Thank you..."
"She's actually coherent... has it ever happened with a fledgling so young?" Horangi mumbled in silent shock, still kneeling beside you. Even with the partial mask and glasses, you could see the frown on his face.
"It doesn’t matter. We’re taking her to the Coven right now." Laswell shook her head, speaking quickly as she climbed into the front seat of the van, starting the vehicle. "We need to get her to the rehabilitation center as soon as possible. I’m afraid her transformation is going wrong."
"I-I don't think-"
You are interrupted as you let out a loud cry, Horangi's hand pressing just slightly over the markings on your shoulder.
"She's pumped full of venom, this is almost... unnatural...." He hisses slightly, expression furrowing in uneseaness. "She was supposed to be out cold at least for two weeks straight, four at most."
"C-Can you stop touching it...??" You whine a bit in pain, shoving his hand away with your much smaller one. "This hurts..."
He stares back at your face for a bit, still seemingly unsure about your conciousness, but he nods once and sits back on his calves, staring at you with a focus that made you squirm in place.
"Fledgling." The heavy voice above you made you look up at König, frowning a bit. "Here, follow my hand."
You could only frown more as he put his hand in front of you, snapping his fingers to call your attention. You stared at it, unsure, watching it go up and down, side to side, all the while snapping. It made you feel like a dog, but you could actually feel your slow reaction time on this.
"She's very cognitive for a just-turned, but for normal paramitres, she's having a slow reaction time." Horangi commented, still watching you closely as you tried to keep up with König's hand.
"Ask her questions, let's see how coherent she is. Even if I don't like it, there's must be answers we can get from this." Laswell commented from the front of the van, speeding up at bit too much for it to be safe.
Not that any of them seemed to care about road safety right now.
"I-I can understand you all just fine, I'm just a bit tired...." You murmur back, giving up on following König's hand as you started to feel a bit nauseus.
Horangi hummed at your words, quiet and considering, staring at your little form still being held by König.
"When were you transformed?"
"Uhh... like, bitten...? Like, a week ago..."
That gained you a big pause inside the van, the three of them staying in apperantly quiet shock. The van was going even faster now.
"By who?" König almost snarled, his hand tilting your head up to look at him properly.
"Stop pulling on my head all the time... this actually hurts..." You mumbled back, trying to pull his heavy hand away from your head and neck area. "And you think I know who did this...? I have no idea...!"
König only let out a low growl, clearly unamused, but it was Horangi who called your attention back to the matter, snapping his fingers to make you look at his face — or rather, his glasses, in this case.
"Can you describe them?"
"No, it was dark and I have no idea what that vampire looked like, h-he was covered from head to toe too...." You frowned, also not very amused by your situation. "I-I... look, I'm really confused, if you could... I mean... where... where are we going...?"
"The Coven." Laswell answered easily, seriously, still speeding up through the streets. You wished you could see outside right now, but here was no windows in the back of the van. "And to the nursery."
"What even is that...?" You whine softly, unsure, leaning slightly forward to try and look at Laswell. "L-Look, I have school, a-and work, could we just... be quick about it?"
"Fledgling, you have no idea the gravity of your situation." Horangi commented slowly, shaking his head. "This is your life we're talking about. You might die, if we are not quick enough. And by our laws..."
"She'll understand. After we deal with what matters right now." Laswell interrupted, going even faster now.
Well, fuck your group projects then. If you're lucky, maybe you'll manage to contact them to at least help out a bit before the due date.
Soap who is incredibly afraid of insects and tries very hard to hide that fact.
In this line of work of course it’s hard to avoid them entirely, but so far he’s been able to catch wind of the fact that one is present and conveniently leave the room.
But not today. Today the spider decided it was Johnny’s time to go. It silently lowered itself on a web and down onto an unsuspecting Johnny’s shoulder.
You were all in the rec room getting ready for a movie night, cozying up on the couch, collecting snacks and blankets to last you through the showing.
Johnny was in the middle of the couch waiting for the rest of you to settle in, but before you could find your spot next to him you stopped and stared.
“What’s wrong, hen?” He pats the spot next to him, “sit.”
You take a step back and point at his shoulder, “um…it seems you have a friend, Johnny.”
That confuses him. What is that even supposed to mean? Regardless, he looks to his shoulder where you pointed and—
He shoots out of his seat faster than anyone can even realize what’s happening. The blanket that was on his lap flies into the sky, the popcorn bowl almost hits the ceiling, sending a rain of popcorn down onto the rest of you. And the scream. The scream is more like a screech from the depths of his soul, high pitched and loud and pathetic.
He’s standing and doing a jig, flailing his limbs around and brushing every inch of himself to make sure the spider is off of him, turning in circles. A barrage of barely discernible speech leaves him, half Scotts and half English, heavily accented regardless.
“Bloooody mother of Jesus!”
You and the others have gotten over your initial shock at his actions, instead sharing one last silent glance before bursting into your own laughter.
You’re bending over, stomach hurting too much to remain standing. “Jo-Johnny—“ you’re trying to say between your gasps for air, “it’s gone! You got it!”
He finally stops flailing, realizing what just happened, he freezes entirely and looks at all of you attempting to stop your laughter on behalf of his dignity (which, as far as you’re concerned, left with the spider).
Everyone is in various states of trying to hide their smiles, Kyle dragging his cap down his forehead, John pretending like he’s rubbing his beard, Simon luckily is still wearing his half mask, and you’re simply unabashedly beaming at him. His face is bright red as he straightens his shirt and clears his throat, trying to salvage something.
There’s silence for just a moment before John ventures, “so…spiders?”
Summary: You, Simon, and Price go shopping, while the two work out their problems, and you get new clothes and delicious Thai chicken.
Word Count: ~3.2k
Warnings: arguing, yelling, cursing, but it gets resolved, cuddles
A/N: reader is starting to come out of her shell a bit, which will certainly make things more interesting…hope you enjoy<3
Requests are open!
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Johnny hadn’t come out to the Jeep yet, and for the past five minutes Simon had been about to drive away, one hand on the wheel, index finger tapping away impatiently as he scowled in the direction of the house. They both seemed almost attached at the hip more often than not. You wondered what was holding the werewolf up.
The front door swung open, but instead of Johnny and his ever-wagging tail coming out, it was Price who lumbered out. The little brown fuzzy’s barely visible on his head, which you assumed were ears, twitched as he approached the car, opened the passenger door, and hauled his body in.
The car shook ever so slightly when he pulled the door shut, slamming it loudly in a gesture that made you jump a bit.
“Where’s Johnny?”
Simon asked, his tone calm but the hint of annoyance creeping in. He raised a brow at Price, who huffed with a hint of a growl that had the hair on the back of your neck standing up.
“Said I’m gonna pull my back out choppin’ wood, told me to come with you.”
John sounded more than annoyed, huffing, his sentence trailing off with his voice growing a bit more than brusque as usual, Simon sighing out through his nostrils.
“Not like he’s wrong.”
He mumbled, putting the keys in, turning them, and starting the ignition, before Price growled deep and low. Your breath caught in your throat, muscles tensing as you scooted more away from the middle of the backseat to the right side, body curling up as you tried to focus on the moving scenery outside the tinted window, the car pulling out of the driveway and bumbling along the bumpy roads. Trees blurred into brown and orange masses as Simon sped up a bit, his and John’s conversation speeding up as well.
“Leave it, Price.”
If you were a hybrid, you might’ve been able to smell the souring of John’s scent or the hint of bitter anger that tinted it.
“You’re hardly younger than me, but those muppets don’t blink twice when you’re doing work, do they?”
A pause from Simon.
“It’s..different, Price. We’re different.”
“Yeah, how’re we different? You saying you’re better than me.”
The atmosphere thickened. You didn’t like how angry he sounded, how Simon’s knuckles were white around the wheel, how John was bordering on a growl every word. He seemed pent up. Angry about more than just what had happened today, as if this had been building for a while, longer than you’d been around to see.
Simon didn’t deny it.
“You muppets, always thinkin’ I’m getting too old for this, well I’m not. I’m not too fuckin’ old to chop wood—“
He snarled out, and your hands went to cover your ears, tears pricking your eyes. You didn’t like angry, cussing men. They brought back bad memories, things you didn’t want to think about again, not right now, if ever. Your knees curled up into your chest, and your blurry vision focused on the window.
The trees had turned into walls of rock, with a few darker spots where water was steadily dripping down, and grass crusted over with frost. The little trees that were on the top had lost all of their leaves by now, the cold chill getting to them.
It was cold in the car, too.
They didn’t have the AC on, which made sense, considering the amount of hair on John meant he didn't need much heat, and Simon’s large body produced enough on its own. Or at least you assumed.
Their argument grew a bit more heated, a few words slipping into your ears despite the hands covering them until they were both yelling at each other, and you couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop it!”
You finally yelled, hands still covering your ears, eyes fearful and scared. John’s mouth was still open from something he’d been about to say before they both turned to glance at you and knew they’d fucked up.
Simon took one look at you through the rearview mirror and internally winced. You witnessed the entire thing, an argument that he and John had been having for years now. The old man was too stubborn to let anyone else try and take care of him, shouldering more and more, trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and getting angry when anyone tried to help him if he stumbled.
John’s anger was gone in a second, replaced with the full internal instinct to fix. His cub was upset because of him. It was his fault. He had to fix it.
Your body language alone was screaming “stay away from me, I will bite your hand off”, as was your scent, but he couldn’t just let you sit all terrified in the backseat, so he tried to calm you down just a bit.
“‘M sorry, cub. Didn’t mean to scare you,”
His voice turned from angry to soft and cooing so quickly it almost gave you whiplash, but it still worked a bit on softening the anxiety churning in your gut. Not enough for you to accept the large hand he was offering, though.
Simon looked at the rearview mirror once again, both behind the car, and then at you once more, and was hit with a sudden realization.
You were afraid, fearful, but he didn’t see any hint of surprise in your expression. You’d been in foster care so long, you’d probably seen all sorts of relationships, maybe even experienced a few, if your earlier request to visit a ‘friend’ was anything to go off of, but you probably hadn’t seen what a healthy relationship was before.
And what he and John had just showed you? That wasn’t healthy, not at all.
So he tried to think of what Gaz would do, ever the virtuous young man, always trying to mend relationships and crossing bridges before burning them completely. He’d seen it just a day ago between him and Soap. Kyle was always thinking about what the other person was thinking and feeling, what they might be going through, putting himself in someone else’s shoes.
Simon might’ve not been the best with emotions, but he could recognize the signs of a minor breakdown. Price hadn’t slept well much this week, before you’d come he’d been worried about getting the room done on time, and since then he’d been worried about you getting comfortable. His short temper made sense. And with such a small, new kid in their home, slowly becoming a member of the pack, it made sense for his protective instincts to be on overdrive, making him shoulder more responsibilities as the leader of the pack.
In fact, he hadn’t seen John this worked up in years, not even with their past fosters.
Simon could have some empathy for the man, and after growing up through his childhood with no good father figure, only his dad abusing his mother and being drunk all the time. You deserved better than what he’d had to see and much better than what he and Price were showing you.
“John.”
He interrupted the man’s cooed words, and John at the lack of nickname and the sheer tone that Simon was using. It wasn’t an unkind tone, it was soft and quiet, much less intimidating than the usual monotone and bland voice he adorned.
It caught your attention too, he could tell. His eyes remained on the road, but he could scent the subtle shift in your emotions, from the fear and worry, a bitter scent, to the shift to a calmer, softer scent. Almost like freshly done laundry, and how soft and warm it is coming out of the dryer.
“Yes?”
He was trying to stay angry, Simon could tell, but it wasn’t working.
Simon took a deep breath, trying to push down the embarrassment he already felt for what he was about to say. It felt strange to acknowledge emotions so clearly, but it was necessary, and if he had to push himself out of his comfort zone to make you comfortable, he would. He’d done better for worse people.
“I...understand that you’re stressed, and feel like we’re undermining you, but we’re just worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard, and not trusting us enough to let us help you. It’s not that any of us are better than you, we just don’t want you taking everything on your shoulders.”
He heaved a shaky breath out, eyes on the road as he pulled into the parking lot of the mall, eyes scanning for a parking spot that wasn’t taken up.
“I’m sorry,”
John finally spoke up, voice rough, but not with anger, only thick with emotion.
“I’ve just been stressed, and trying to keep myself busy. I didn’t mean to…”
His sentence trailed off as he leaned into Simon, and Simon leaned his head against him as he finally found a spot, and pulled into it.
As you sat in the back, watching, John finally pulled away from Simon a minute later, giving a little apologetic smile to you as he opened his door, moving to open yours.
“Sorry for scaring ya, cub. Let’s make it up and go get some clothes, yeah?
He offered a hand, and you found that you took it, despite having to lift your arm a bit for your hand to meet his large, calloused one. He was warm.
Simon came around after you heard him pull the keys out, lock the car, and shut his door. He took your other hand, leaving you sandwiched between the two giant men as you all approached the entrance to the mall, which was a lot of sliding glass doors marked with “Exit” and “Entrance”.
As soon as you entered, your senses were assaulted with the smells and musks of other people and perfume, not to mention delicious food and drinks, as well as bright lights from stores and flashing lights from stands selling kids’ toys. It was loud, people talking unabashedly on the phone, to their friends as they laughed and tripped over their own feet, or to their partners as they walked hand in hand. A few other children your age were there, but no humans.
It didn’t necessarily surprise you.
Simon noticed how overwhelmed you were, and he couldn’t say that he hadn’t expected it. Malls were large spaces packed full of people looking to sell things, and others rushing to buy things. Especially with how most people tended to easily be taller than you, or tower over you, he could imagine you’d be easily intimidated by that, let alone all the options of where to go.
Giving your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, he spoke.
“We can get clothes first, then decide from there.”
John met his eye, and nodded, silently agreeing with him. You mumbled a little “okay”, before being led along by the both of them to a nearby area in the mall that was a large clothing store, one of the bigger shopping areas than the hallways full of different, smaller stores.
“Let’s focus on winter clothes first, so jackets, scarves, gloves, pants, those sorts of things. Then we can move on to lighter wear.”
You all navigated the store, meandering around before John spotted the “Children’s clothing” sign, and you finally found the girl’s section. From there, you had to narrow that down to the human section among all sorts of hybrids.
That was the one thing you didn’t envy about hybrids, was how hard it must be to find clothing that properly fit their various parts like wings, tails, etc. There was a reason that seamstresses and embroiderers had become much more popular after hybrids really began rapidly spreading and taking over the population. The business was booming.
“What about this one?”
John asked, gesturing to a striped sweater. You could tell from a few glances that the quality wasn’t the greatest, and that it wasn’t made of real wool or fiber, probably just the type of polyester that rubbed against your skin badly. You reached a hand out, disconnecting from Simon, and rubbing against the fabric only to confirm your assumption. You shook your head.
“Itchy.”
You said simply. They tried pointing out clothes and jackets you might like to no avail, probably not understanding the concept of needing fabric to stay warm, considering most hybrids had fur to keep them warm, if not their bodies practically being furnaces.
Finally, you found the absolute perfect jacket. A hoodie that wasn’t tight around the bottom, but baggy enough to where it went down to your mid-thigh, the sleeves weren’t tight, and the hood was loose and wasn’t so heavy that it weighed the hoodie down or strangled you. The inside felt like a cloud, and it was stretchy but also firm enough to keep heat insulated.
When you finally stopped feening over the hoodie, you flipped the price tag over and winced, putting it back. It might’ve been perfect, but it was a ridiculous amount of money for a hoodie. Too much money for a hoodie.
Simon and Price exchanged a look behind your back as you went on to find other clothes, returning twenty minutes later with, as John requested, a scarf, gloves, some sweatpants, and socks. Simon scoped it all out of your arms and put it in their cart, following behind as John began looking for the clothes for lighter seasons, finding it and letting you choose your pick.
Having spent almost two hours in the one place by now, with you trying on various clothes, John said he wanted to make sure they fit right before buying them, and your mild indecisiveness as well. When it was all said and done, you had plenty of clothes for outfits throughout the year, and they checked out.
It was only after everything had been checked out that you saw it.
The hoodie.
Simon held it carefully, scanning it, before ripping the tag off with ease and handing it to you. You opened your mouth in protest at first, a bit embarrassed, but decided against saying anything as you slid it on. It fit perfectly.
It wouldn’t be very easy for either of them to hold the bags and your hand at the same time, so Simon leaned down, getting on one knee, and gesturing to his shoulders, gently picked you up by the armpit, and lifted you until you were sitting on his shoulders.
You blinked in surprise for a moment or two, but eventually, the shock wore off. The internal cringing after seeing a couple go “awwww” at the sight of you, or a group of women giggling to themselves, seeing Simon carrying you, didn’t though.
John noticed, a little smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t mind anyone noticing what good parents they were to the newest member of their pack, it actually made his chest swell with pride.
“You hungry?”
Simon asked, tilting his head a bit to the side to catch a glimpse of you, just so he knew you had heard him. You gave a little nod, being absolutely starving by now, and he chuckled.
“Me too, kid. Let’s see how much we can convince Price to spend on food.”
You’d both convinced him to spend quite a lot on food, apparently, as you both sat down, eating Thai chicken that tasted scrumptious. You devoured it, eating faster than even Simon, and Price was steadily laughing as he watched you somehow shove more food down your throat.
“Save some for the rest of us,”
Price chuckled, watching as you swallowed more chicken, looking up at him with a look more feral than any hybrid he’d seen, before pouting in what he assumed was a joking way.
“I’m just a girl.”
You said, and Simon’s deep, raspy laughs started up at that. He apparently found it funny. You continued devouring your food, filling your stomach until you were all full, something you weren’t used to from your past foster parents.
Price was enjoying his food as well as you all sat at the Food Court, in a little booth table. The lady working the shop had given extra-large servings after taking one look at Simon and Price, knowing big men like them would need plenty of food. She probably hadn’t known how starved you’d been, and by now, you were too hungry to care about eating nicely in front of them.
There was sauce on your lips and your fingers, but you didn’t care, Price wiping some from his beard, Simon using a napkin to wipe some of it from his mouth, before folding that napkin over, and wiping it off your face. You looked at him, a smile tugging at your lips. He tried to conceal his smirk but failed as you burst into giggles. Price laughed again.
After finally finishing off all of the chicken, both you and Simon were in a food coma by now, Price had to drag both of you out of the mall and into the car, climbing into the driver’s seat. You and Simon lagged behind a little bit, before you broke out into a run to the car, yelling a message for Simon.
“I call shotgun!”
“You can’t just—“
He sputtered, racing after you, but too late as you yanked the passenger door open, collapsing into the seat as you shut the door and locked it manually. He raised a brow, but you buckled up, securing your seat with a badly suppressed smile.
He opened the back door, climbed in, and stretched out on all three of the seats in the back, yawning as he didn’t even bother to buckle up.
You and John both looked back at him, you giggling quietly as Simon’s lips twitched, John just shaking his head in fond exasperation.
The drive home was quiet, other than the low-volume music playing in the background as you curled up in the large seat, watching the window, eyelids heavy, but you resisted the siren's call of sleep for most of the car ride, other than a little five-minute nap, or maybe a little bit longer than five minutes.
Or maybe you fell asleep almost the entire car ride, only waking up when you heard Johnny’s excited voice, followed by hushing, and you shifted around, only to find yourself cradled in John’s arms.
“Quiet, she’s sleeping.”
Kyle murmured, and Johnny whined, the sound almost piercing to your ears.
“No, she ain’t—“
And then you slowly blinked awake, finding yourself being shifted from John’s arms to Johnny’s, warm muscle gently caging you in as soft fur rubbed gently against your skin, tickling a bit. His chest rumbled with a deep purr, one that even had you melting further into him, despite not being the same species. It somehow still affected you.
You heard his heavy footsteps thud down the hall, until your bedroom door creaked open, and the soft blankets in your bed surrounded you now instead of him.
You shifted around a bit, finding a comfortable angle and spot, listening to his quiet breathing and loud purring as he kissed you on the forehead, murmuring something so low that you couldn’t hear it, before leaving the room, leaving you to fall asleep.
👑Platonic cod with a younger reader who has adhd and got extremely over stimulated by rude soldiers? (People suck)
Thank ya😙
K first of all I don't know hoooow tf I missed that you made a request, thank you, and I gotchu (people do in fact suck).
I'm not sure if I wrote out what you asked for, but this is what I came up with. I do hope you like it.
(This will be a gn!reader I hope that's ok!)
Platonic!141 x gn!reader
Warning: bullying, swearing, badly written fight scenes, actually just bad writing in general.
Dividers by: @cafekitsune
Working with the best of the best comes with a very heavy burden.
For one thing, all of your relationships end up in the gutter or strained even if they're family, friends, or even actual people you're interested in.
But this was an outlet for you to better yourself.
It gave you a routine, and it taught you discipline.
Even if all you wanted to do was sit down and let your mind spiral for even a moment. Even if you wanted to get up from your seat and just fucking move.
How you ended up here is something you have a hard time understanding. But you climbed your way to the top. You've earned your place. So well in fact you've found a home with Laswell. She introduced you to John, and thanks you him, you have a new calling.
Unfortunately, that leads everything full fucking circle.
You start over again. The only ones who know who you are are John and Laswell. The other three know you, but from passing conversations when you're in meetings with them.
They just know you as the backup thanks to Price.
At first such a name easily put you down. No matter what you did, it wouldn't chance the way you felt about certain things. Like if there was a new mission, how everyone treated you like some low-man. Someone to just clean their shit everywhere they fucking go.
And to see the pity come from Garrick or the words of assurance from MacTavish. Oh, you felt tiny.
You just tried to fit in as best as you fucking could.
So you thought maybe making some friends would do you some good.
Until that turns out to be your biggest regret.
Every mistake someone else made, your name had to get thrown in there somehow.
One soldier didn't strap something down, right?
"(L/n) was supposed to help."
Another soldier didn't show up for inventory?
"(L/n) was holding me up."
Soldiers made a riot coming back into the barracks?
"Had to be all (L/n). Rather loud that one."
Jesus Christ, it was incredible the way your name was being drugged through the mud. Eventually, you just stopped interacting with people altogether unless it was absolutely necessary.
Like right now. It's sparring time with your teams. The 141 were busy training among themselves while you were left with your usual 'team.'
One of them straight up walked right up to you, leaning in close so you were the only one who heard. "Honestly, a runt like you doesn't fuckin' belong here." they snicker. "You really think the 141 took a liking to you? You only got to where you were because you got Laswell wrapped around your little finger."
You roll your eyes, ripping away from them before stepping up to the ring. The previous pair had ended their session.
The original partner you were sparring made no sign to move, until you realized the soldier who was just talking to you was making their way into the ring.
You sigh in defeat, unable to think of a reason to get back out. What were you gonna do? Cry about? This wasn't a schoolyard, this was the military.
"Whenever you're ready, runt."
Unbeknownst to you, a few sets of eyes were on you, and not just from your training group surrounding the ring like a pack of wolves.
You felt trapped. You felt targeted. For a while of this happening, it was just too much in this instance. Your head wasn't in the fucking game.
Without that focus, that soldier took you down like you weighed absolutely nothing. One grab and a trip over his foot, you were on your back.
Not even the blows you were landing on the side of his face were doing you any good. Eventually, you did get the upper hand, only to humiliatingly get kicked right in the head.
Everything went dark after the pain blossomed from that side.
This wasn't you. You knew that. You knew you were so much better than this. But how the absolute hell were you to fight this without getting into some drama?
How were you going to prove to those asswipes you belonged here?
Waking up, you squint your eyes at the blinding white light just above you. Blinking to settle them, your sight lands on Price sitting in the corner right next to the door.
His arms are leaning on the armrest as his eyes bore into yours.
For a second you don't say anything until he clears his throat. But even then, he beats you to it.
"Seems I came at the perfect time." He grins. It's small, almost friendly. With a level of professionalism behind it. "Was wanting to talk to you about what happened."
Like a balloon, you feel yourself deflate. Your eyes refuse to meet his after that sentence and all you let out is a quiet, "Oh."
The captain coughs, a light smoker cough you would guess before sitting forward and leaning his elbows on his knees.
"That soldier you were sparring with. Has there been any altercation with 'em?" Price asked, earnestly curious. "Maybe something that was done a while ago that hadn't been brought to my attention?"
You inhale, holding your breath. This felt childish. Right? Tattle-telling on a soldier?
It wasn't like you guys weren't already fighting so...if anything this was on you. It had to be. You just need to better your skills. There is always going to be someone better. There is always going to be someone stronger. There is always something-
"(L/n)." Price interrupts your racing thoughts. "It's up to you if you want to say something. You're not in trouble."
He stands, his hand holding his wrist right in front of him as he slowly walks towards the foot of your bed.
He reaches over, tying your bootlaces as he speaks.
"I know you, (L/n). You're strong. But I'm sure you know there is always someone stronger. That's why your speed and that mind of yours are what drew Laswell to you. You know this."
You finally let a long breath out of your nose, blinking rapidly. "I know."
"Good."
Price gently finishes the bow he made out of your laces, and pats your boot. Another sly smile on his face. "Well, you know," He continues, "This isn't a friendship club. We're all adults here. And you surely won't get in trouble if you know..."
He stares into your eyes knowingly. "...decide you've had enough of the bullshit. Right?"
Your brows slowly furrow in, unsure if you're reading his words correctly. But he doesn't elaborate further. Instead, he turns and walks to the door. "Oh by the way," He turns to look at you. "Ghost and the others will be handling your training during your conditioning hours. Be on time now, (Y/n)."
With that, he slips out the door, leaving you to dwell on his hidden messages. If that's what you should call it.
...
"Again."
You groan from the ground, eyes landing on the hand in front of you and the grin from Soap. "Come on, then. Up ye go." He quips as he pulls you to your feet.
"Try tha' again. And remember to put all that strength into that kick. That's yer knockout. Ghost? Ready?"
The lieutenant's brown eyes bore into yours. It reminds you of Price sitting intensely in the corner of the medical room. Fighting the lieutenant doesn't feel as...well...violent? If that's the right term to use.
Sure this lean, mean, killing machine is a much harder target to fight. But you can't complain. Especially since he is kicking your fucking ass.
"If you step to the left again," Ghost warns. "You'll be rollin' off the side of that ring."
Yeah. Safe to say you've been at this for a while now.
Before you can even begin, the door to the gym opens and a whistle sounds out. "Tav!" Sergeant Garrick's voice sounds out. "Price needs you!"
Soap breathes out his nose before nodding towards you. "Strengthen that kick, you'll have the fucker down before he even blinks." He speaks as he starts to walk to the doorway. Something tells you he isn't referring to Ghost.
The sergeants tap each other, sort of like they tap each other into a situation, which brings a small chuckle to your face.
"Come on, (L/n)." Ghost calls to you. "Need your focus, not trying to send you back to medical."
The recent memory deflates your newfound joy just as Garrick reaches the end of the ring. Before you could even take your stance, you see Ghost wag his finger at you. "Try that again."
You frown. "Sorry?"
You begin to maneuver your stance, thinking you were off balance or something of the sort before he walks up to you and pokes you right between your collarbone.
"When someone is fucking nitpicking you. Stop givin' them a reaction." He grunts. "They know how to hurt you. People you trust would even use that against you."
Garrick leans on one of the ropes, adding in. "Keep your face straight when you're up against someone." He points to Ghost. "If you can't see their emotions, you can't predict their next move."
Just as he says that Ghost becomes lax, looking into your soul with his hands to his sides. You swallow a groan, feeling your body screaming at you.
Like, you fully believed Sergeant Garrick, Ghost really didn't have to show you what he meant.
But then the lieutenant just starts...stalking around you. The both of you go in circle after circle until he finally,
and might I say finally,
strikes.
You jump in your skin, feeling one arm go around your waist, the other hoisting the rest of you up and just dropping down onto the mat with a loud 'oof'. The impact takes the wind right out of you.
You lay there for a moment, with half of the 141 task force staring at your position.
"You really didn't have to do all that." You wheeze out. "I fully believed you."
A hand is outreached to you, and with mild (not so mild) hesitation, you take it. Ghost pats you on the back as you take your walk of shame to the bench right on the side, next to Gaz.
"You know, that was a lot more patience than we thought you were gonna show." He smiles. "Truly. The amount of times Ghost gets Soap with that trick? Never gets old."
He reaches behind you, grabbing a water bottle that was passed to him by your lieutenant and handing it to you. "Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen you make that first move before, Ghost."
The lieutenant chuckles, leaning on the ring. "No. The little soldier had me tired of waiting." He opens his own bottle, picking it up to his lips. "You could really use tha' the next time that prick wants to give you shit."
You frown, confused. "What do you-"
"Soldier," Gaz sighs. "We see the way you let these tossers treat you. You could have said or done something about it a lot sooner."
You're quiet for a moment before sitting up straight and taking another drink of water. "Just don't want to cause issues. Laswell wanted me to take care of myself."
"But to let these nobody's treat you like shit? For the sake of laying low when you don't have to?" Gaz's words have you making eye contact with him. He's staring at you as if he's trying to pull you apart, find out something that really isn't hard to find.
You don't like confrontation. Never was your strong suit. If you needed something shut down, it was difficult to do on your own.
Not impossible sure, but when you're constantly the punching bag it takes a toll on your confidence.
Hell, that's why you joined the military. What else did you have going for yourself?
"Yeah...I guess I just didn't wanna hurt anyone."
"Well, we're not telling you to kill anyone." Ghost cuts in. His steel eyes bore into yours. "Not now anyways."
At that, and you're not sure why, but you crack a smile. Nodding you finish off your water bottle and stand up.
"Am I excused, sir?" You look to Ghost, who only nods his head.
"See you tomorrow, soldier."
...
The next day, both the sergeants and the lieutenant meet you in the gym. It's eerily empty again, save for a few stragglers talking in the corner.
Soap spots you first, giving you a grin. "Righ' on time. In the ring, now."
A sigh leaves your lips as he ducks under and over the bars of the ring, seeing as you're fighting the most excited member today.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did ye wan' Gaz to be in front of ye? We can arrange tha'-"
"No!" You hiss out. "No, please God, no. This is fine. Just...just don't do that fucking thing with your arm and your thumb."
Gaz heaves a large sigh. "Soap we told you to stop doin' that to the rookies."
"Aye, but they're not a rookie now? Are they?" Soap grins.
"MacTavish."
"Aye, sir."
You laugh, setting down your items before joining Soap in the ring. "Alright. What are we working on today?"
The room falls silent, watching as the smile remains on the sergeant's face but then he leans back into the ropes, shrugging.
"Last day of conditioning. Just wanted to talk."
Your brows furrow. "Sorry?"
"You heard him." Ghost calls from behind you, on the other side of the barricade. "You're just talking."
"Aye." Soap puts his hands behind his back, walking towards you. "And just know, truly, 's nothin' personal."
Confusion hits you harder than any punch you received this week. You didn't know what that meant. Nor what it could mean. It scared you only for a moment until Soap reached out and shoved you off balance.
Immediately, you try and position yourself before he tuts at you. "Nae. I'm not fightin' ye today."
You lower your hands, the body still tensed because you don't know what's happening.
"Sorry, I'm lost here."
"Aye. Small minded. Cannae says I'm surprised."
What?
"Sorry?"
"Stop apologizing." The sergeant snaps. "We'll have to work on tha' too."
You're arms crossed, almost like you're guarding yourself. A confused smile breaks through your face, and now you're really unsure of what the fuck is happening.
"Can someone explain to me-"
"Ye need an explanation?" Soap sneers. "Need someone to hold yer fuckin' hand all the time?"
He's walking right next to you, going around you like a shark in the water. "How have ye made it this fuckin' far?" He laughs, and a deep grave tone settles in his voice. "Ye think people owe ye the respect we've earned?"
Ouch. Yeah, that one hurt a bit. You've only been a part of this task force for a fucking year. And you assumed you and Soap formed a small friendly bond.
"How did ye survive selection." he continues. "Honestly. The amount of fuckin' crap ye must've tapped away on should be extraordinary."
"Dude." You scoff. "What the fuck is happening?"
"Again with the fuckin' questions. Ye really think you're gonna get any answers," for once, from this weird interrogation (if that's what you call it), he hesitates. His eyes glance at Ghosts, staring before he nods. You don't even get the chance to say anything or even look behind you before he hits you with it. "A runt like ye doesn't belong here."
The room falls silent. So quiet you could hear a pin drop.
If it wasn't for the way Soap's Adam's apple was bobbing around, you would've taken him very seriously. His eyes refused to leave yours. But you can see the nervousness.
You understood what this was.
Your anger dies down, and you fight any emotion that threatens to come up. It's not easy. You spent years trying to control your emotions. Holding things in, disassociating as a coping mechanism.
This is not the time nor the place to do that, however.
"Nothing to say? Runt?" Soap smirks. It's breaking him.
"Runt's never have a thing to fuckin say. Too busy worrin' bout-"
"Say somethin', (L/n)." Ghost states in the middle of the sergeant's degradation. "Go on then. Give him what he wants."
'Try that again.' the lieutenant's voice goes through your head. 'They know how to hurt you. People you trust can use that against you.'
"Come on then. Say somethin'." Soap hisses right beside your ear. "Aren't ye just dying to run along? Tell me? What'd ye plan on doing, runt?"
You stay rigid as can be. Your eyes never leave a spot you choose to stare at. If you stared at it long enough, you can just mentally check out of this. It'll go by faster.
"Yer just gonna stand there, are ye? Keepin' quiet like a good little solder? Doin as yer told-"
Your eyes snap to his. Emotionless, with a cold smile on your face.
It successfully stops Soap from whatever he was going to say next. The both of you stare at one another for a moment before Soap is the first to break. "Good." He grins. "You finished your last training."
Soap pats you on your shoulder, walking away from you until he's out of the ring.
"What the fuck was that...?" You question. "What You just...hurt my fuckin' feelings and call it training?"
"If we gave you a sticker would you feel better?" Gaz asks, sarcasm dripping though his teeth. "We're teaching you what to do the next time you're in a pinch."
Ghost knocks on the ring floor from his side. "You can't always use your fist, (L/n). But you can always trust that minimal interaction is the best way to get them frustrated."
"And if they decide they need to get physical," Gaz points to Soap, as the other sergeant sits on the bench, finishing his sentence. "Then ye have full authority to let loose!"
"To an extent." Ghost warns.
You blink up at the ceiling, light huffs of laughter breaking from your throat. "You guys are tellin' me," You walk towards the edge, leaning on the ropes. "That this is all because you want me to-"
"earn your respect, (L/n)." The Captain's voice rings out from the entryway. "Show these muppets just why you were handpicked for us."
...
The next team training came a lot sooner than you thought. You've had minimal interaction with the prior group until you were in sparring teams again. What was supposed to be four groups of six, ended up turning into a giant turn-taking fight. People were standing off to the sides, watching the fights go on.
The same asshole from before walks right up to you, standing shoulder to shoulder as you watched the first two soldiers go at it.
It ends with one picking the other up, and dropping him upon his side, a sticking crack sounding from the fall.
A series of 'ooohs' goes around the ring, even the winner kneeling before his partner and helping him out of the ring.
"Take him to medical." The Captain excuses them. He turns to you, motioning to the ring. "You're up (L/n)."
You choose not to make a sound, nor give much of a reaction. Until the asshole's name gets called out to enter with you. His sickening laugh prickles your skin as you make eye contact with all three of the other members across the gym. They each nod at you before you turn around and face your opponent.
"You ready for another beatdown, runt?" He smirks, fists up.
"Keep it focused, Soldiers. if you have time to talk, you have time to waste. And I don't want my fucking time wasted." Price hollers from the side.
Your opponent grins at you, watching your every move. You don't take a stance right away. Your arms appear limp y your sides as you begin to circle each other. You're on high alert, unsure if you would be at this for some time like your training with the lieutenant.
"Come on, runt. You gonna make a move?" He teases. "Come on. Show me that big guy mental the boy showed you this week."
His comment breaks you. A smile cracks through your facade and you can hear Soap speak. "Show time."
Your opponent's patience wears thin, as he rushes and throws a punch right to your left side. Where you had the habit of turning to. But you step to your right, reel back your hand, and land a punch right to his throat.
The soldiers around wince and groan at the sight. But you take no moment to stop before you wrap an arm around his waist and flip him over when the other lifts his legs over your shoulder.
He hits the ground with a loud thud, immediately trying to get back up. His sight must've not been all there, as he stumbles and lands on his knee. "Piece of fucking shit-"
"Oh shut up." You groan out before you swing your leg around, your heel meeting his jaw, and knocking him out.
You sigh, relief flooding your veins as you put an arm up in victory. Turning to the guys with a bright, toothy grin on your face.
"There's that bright smile." Laswell chuckles beside Price. "Hasn't done that in some time."
The captain nods, watching as you make your way straight to his three teammates, each of them patting you with their own words of praise.
"Oh, yes." He sends you his own nod of approval when you turn to look at him with a light that seems to return to your eyes. "Glad it came back."
Thanks for requesting- so sorry it took forever to come out.
Please comment and/or reblog I'd appreciate it!
Requests are open!
A little fic series idea. Thinking a slow burn Simon x reader. I know I’m mixing old and new Ghost. Do I care? No.
Ok but what if ….
You’re Beth’s best friend. You tried to warn her not to mix with the Riley family, having been a couple of classed below Simon and Tommy at school. She didn’t listen..
You hate Mr Riley for how he treated his sons. You took self defence classes when Beth started dating Tommy, just in case, y’know? You noticed the marks and bruises Tommy would wear to school. Simon hardly attended school and when he did, he wore matching bruises. Sometimes even burns. It boggled your mind that the school didn’t ever say anything.
That’s why it shocked you that Beth decided to date the older Riley brother.
You’re around Tommy when he got addicted to drugs and alcohol, and you saw Simon again, when he was home between missions. He is high up in the army apparently.. He is stand-offish and brutish, you decide. You no longer saw him as the small, blonde child with bruises and marks all over his arms.. he is built like a shit brick house. Still covered in faded marks and scars. His hair is no longer bright blonde, now a much dirtier colour. Seemed fitting really.
You offered Tommy and Beth a safe space in your flat to help with Tommy’s sobriety after years of addiction and to help them get some savings. And to get them away from Riley Snr. Bastard of a man.
Turned out, after 6 months of lessons, you’re real good at self defence and you decided to try out for the army, having had a run of a few bad waitressing jobs and shitty bar work. You got accepted first try.
You visited Tommy and Beth when you could. They were practically living in your empty flat in Manchester at that point. While you were deployed for the first time, Simon apparently returned home and bet the shit out of his dad and threw him out of the family home, so Tommy and Beth wrote a letter to you, saying that they’re moving home, and vacating your flat.
Guess Simon isn’t so bad after all.. good for him, kicking his prick of a father to the curb.
You met Simon properly, again, at Tommy and Beth’s wedding. You were head Bridesmaid. Beth looked stunning, and Tommy stayed sober all night even though the drinks were flowing. Simon acted like he has a stick up his ass the entire night though.. always on edge. He looked nice in his fancy Army suit though.
A few months later, when you returned from deployment, Beth picked you up from the barracks with a blue balloon, and an ultrasound, and a very clearly swollen stomach. She was pregnant with Tommy’s child.
You’d been upgraded to Sergeant. You were one of the highest scoring women to ever reach the rank. You were proud of your achievement. The extra pay check bump got put into a savings account for your little nephew, Joseph. A little boy you’d fallen in love with through pictures and videos sent by Beth and Tommy. They were doing well. You were so proud of them.
You returned from Russia for Joseph’s first birthday. You gifted him his own little mini set of dog tags. “Joseph Riley. Love always, your Tee Tee” engraved on them. Joseph had started babbling. Beth had tried her best to film him saying Auntie. But he only ever managed Tee Tee. That was your title. You’d wear it with pride.
Tommy seemed stressed. Apparently he hadn’t heard from Simon for a while. You tried to comfort him. “You know how it is, he is a lieutenant now. Doing all the important secretive stuff! He’ll be off grid, the only man who could kill Simon Riley, is Simon Riley” you joked.
The truth was, you’d never crossed paths with Simon. Never spotted his towering form, or dirty blonde mop of hair at the barracks. Never recognised his face amongst other soldiers. But Tommy didn’t need to know that. He liked the fact that you and Simon ‘worked together’..
Your leave was set to end the following day but Beth barrelled through from the kitchen, slamming her tea down that she’d made, not 5 minutes earlier, shouting at you for ignoring your phone. “Your army friends are calling you, they have a celebration that you’re supposed to be at. Go. GO. Don’t you DARE miss it because of us!” She practically shoved you out of the house, and forced you to attend the party.
Tommy and Beth bid you a joyful farewell that night. Promising to see you when you next came home on leave. You promised you’d try to get your birthday booked off, but no guarantees seeing as you were a sergeant.
You attended the party at base, and deployed back out to Mexico the next day, feeling pleased that Beth, Tommy and little Joseph were doing so well.
You didn’t know that’d be the last time you’d see them, and that just a few hours after you’d left for the party, your three pillars of strength were assassinated.
It felt like a cruel trick of fate. You broke. Hard. You went off the rails. You crumbled even further, when you learnt that you’d left a couple of hours too early. If you’d have stayed, you could have defended them. You would have fought with your life. You slipped further when you learnt, at their funeral, that Simon had arrived a few hours too late. The window for their murders must have only been mere hours. Simon wasn’t at the funeral. You assumed he was dead. You didn’t want to know how he died..
You felt sick to your stomach.
You threw yourself into your work, getting reckless on missions, but producing noticeable results on the field. You gained a name for yourself. Fearless, brutal and blunt. You didn’t socialise any more. You were there to do a job. That’s all. You had nothing else to live for. No one to return to.
That changed when you’re contacted by Captain John Price. Apparently you’d been headhunted. Who gives a shit? He’d warned you that you’d be thrown into dangerous territory, with sadistic assassins and terrorists. Nothing could be worse than losing Beth, Tommy and Joseph. So you signed up.
That brings you to now. The newest member of taskforce 141.
The two sergeants are too happy for your liking. They are desperate to get to know you. You tried to avoid them, but they stuck to you like glue. Like dogs with a bone. They are fascinated by your fast climb up the ranks. They wanted to know everything.
The Captain is a gentleman, an authority figure who treats you like what you are. A soldier. A comrade. He instructs. You follow. He respects you and you respect him. It’s a mutual understanding.
Ghost avoids you. He has grunted at you twice in 3 months. He hasn’t taken that damn mask off either. It reminds you of the one that Tommy wore in the photographs of him as a child. Every time you see the Lieutenant, your stomach drops, as it reminds you of … them. They’re gone forever, your brain kindly reminds, as if you would have forgotten.. You get up and leave whatever room you’re in whenever he comes near. It seems like another mutual arrangement as he does the same to you.
What you didn’t know, however, is that Simon has spent years training his facial expressions. He almost gave it all away when Price came to him a couple of months back and told him of a new member. He almost fell to his knees in anguish when Price slapped a picture of you down on his desk.
His hand flew to his chest when price closed the door behind him, and he clutched his dog tags tightly, gulping.
Simon had seen their corpses that night. He could tell someone had been there. 3 cups of tea. Joseph was too young to drink tea. They weren’t even cold. The blood hadn’t dried. He should have guessed it was you. Auntie Tee Tee. Worn firmly round his neck, attached to his own.
Simon was sick that night, as he removed the tags from Joseph’s neck. He closed Tommy and Beth’s eyes, and moved Joseph so he was cradled by his mother’s corpse. Comfort in death, he thought. He fled the scene, after saying his final gut wrenching good byes. He was going to kill whatever bastard did this to them. He promised himself he wouldn’t stop until they were dead.
Tommy had told Simon that you’d joined the army. Simon never corrected him when he mentioned, constantly, that they were colleagues. He had never seen you in a crowd of new recruits. He would have noticed you.
But here you are. In front of him. Looking… awful. Dark eyes, that were once so bright. Slumped shoulders, that were once so happy to grab Tommy and Beth in for hugs. A scowl, instead of her perfect smile…
A far cry from the bridesmaid he had kept an eye on all evening at Tommy and Beth’s wedding.
You didn’t seem to realise that Ghost and Simon were the same person. That suited Simon down to the ground. John clearly picks up on something but decides not to mention it.
The team were working well together. Simon must admit, your style on the field is ruthless, not too dissimilar from his, but where he uses brute strength, you use the element of surprise and your brain. Smart girl.
Actually, you truly believed hell must be kinder than whatever the hell was happening to your body these past few days.
Should you call the support line after all?
And to think it was all your boss’s fault. If that jerk hadn’t made you work overtime and close the stupid convenience store without any warning, maybe you could have found a way to get home safely.
But nooooo...
Now thanks to that, you were attacked on your way home after work.
Attacked in the middle of the night, on a week day, too far from any houses for anyone to hear the commotion.
And it had been a vampire.
You didn’t know much about vampires. Their species was way too mysterious and reserved with outsiders. That’s not to say they didn’t interact with humans—because they did, especially with the wealthy—but it was one of those situations where someone like you would never get the chance to speak with one.
They were high society. Big families that controlled entire cities and states. Like the Mafia or some shit, living in the rich part of town that you had never even set foot in before.
Although, you had heard of vampires appearing here and there sometimes, walking around through the city quietly and discreetly when problems needed to be solved.
Problems like feral vampires.
Loners cast aside from their Covens for one reason or another, now crazed and out of control, following their bloodlust blindly. They killed as easily as any vampire did, even if their only focus was to drink their victims' blood.
Dangerous creatures...
They were rare—incredibly so—since it was the responsibility of the high covens to protect the normal folk from ferals. They rarely appeared in other vampires' territory, fearing the powerful presence of their own kind.
But sometimes...
Sometimes, a new one would appear from far away, starved and crazed like most of them were by that point. And usually they managed to kill one victim before the covens hunted them down to kill them for good.
So it was very important to call the right number to report feral vampires in the area.
Should you have done that? Yes, you should have. You really should have. But you were so. freaking. tired.
You were a college student working part-time at a convenience store. After waking up from your near-death experience, you just couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. In fact, for a good while after waking up, you even thought you had hallucinated everything. You went home like it was just another night, your mind drifting, more absent than present.
The moment your head hit the pillow, you were out.
But, when you looked at yourself in the mirror the next morning...
You were supposed to be dead. Someone would find your body—drained and wounded—and call the feral hotline. Vampires would show up, deal with the feral with minimal effort, and make sure the area was secured again. That’s just how it goes.
EXCEPT!
You are fucking alive!!
You didn’t even know that was possible—a feral giving up on its prey after pinning it down instead of just killing it for the blood.
It was talking, too—mumbling nonsense by your ear, like it was actually trying to communicate with you.
It bit you, injecting its venom.
Your skin was horribly marked now. The wounds that had once been there had all turned into thin layers of scar tissue. Not the usual kind, but one formed by the venom injected into your bloodstream. The red and black layers against your otherwise normal skin tone made it look like the weirdest tattoo you’d ever seen—like you were a broken porcelain doll with satan himself trying to break free from inside out.
It started at your neck, on your left shoulder, blooming into an ugly, messy bite that was definitely the most obvious problem there.
It went down your left arm and chest, streaks that looked like veins, or cracks.
The artwork was completed by ending on the wounds you’d gotten on your lower body while fighting off the vampire on top of you—scrapes around your hips and legs.
At least you actually searched a bit about vampires after that, panicking hard over the weird markings on your skin. The only and most important thing you needed to know was whether ferals could transform humans or not.
Which, unsurprisingly, they could.
At least, in theory.
They still have their venom, but when they go feral, they usually just want to drink blood from their victims blindly, and the venom is mostly forgotten. There was never a case of a feral actually turning someone into a vampire!
Maybe that feral wasn’t as far gone as the others...
But now, this was somehow your problem! You barely knew anything about vampires', or how they worked in the first place!
What do they even do after transforming someone?
Are you really a vampire now??
Why did you have the ugliest markings all over your body after being bitten, when you’d never heard of vampires leaving markings like this???
And why the hell was your boss still making you go to work after you told him you were attacked late at night last week, the asshole?!?!
Maybe you should’ve specified it was a vampire who attacked you, but you were scared to face what had happened. What had been done to you, and what you might now become. Do you need to speak to vampires now? Are you actually one? You don't even have any fangs or anything different besides the markings...
You had so much to do—so many projects left unfinished for school. You never missed class, not even when you were sick. But now that you’ve become a completely different species…
"Dearie, what happened to you??"
You were startled by the worried voice of an old lady close to you, making you look up from the chip bags you had been staring at for a solid five minutes in the middle of the aisle.
You glanced back at her for a few seconds before turning your gaze to your own body, looking down at your neck and collarbone where the giant marking started, barely hidden by the collar of your work shirt.
"Oh, it's... dunno, a birthmark." You mumble, tired, not really caring much for a better excuse.
You were so tired lately... what the hell even happened? You always had that healthy college student tiredness from working and studying, but it never made your body feel this heavy.
If you were any more weak-minded, you might have just stayed in bed forever.
But then again, college student.
"It doesn't look like one…." The woman squinted, analyzing your neck like it was her fucking business.
Okay, maybe you were also a bit more irritaded than normal.
"Ma'am, it's nothing. Can I help you with something?" You force a smile, though it’s more cynical than polite, as you weren’t really in the mood to be that polite to people who couldn’t mind their own business.
She stared at you for a few more long seconds in complete silence, her eyes squinting as she made that slow, long hum that old people make when they're being casually judgmental.
"That's a vampire thing, isn't it?" A middle-aged man appeared around the corner, his eyes also drifting to your neck as he tilted his head to the side. "It looks like a vampire bite on your neck..."
This guy you actually know—Thomas, from the real estate office nearby—who always comes to buy a snack around this time of day.
"How did you even get to that conclusion...?" You mumble, frowning slightly in annoyance.
"For one, I can see two teeth marks on your neck, clearly. Second, have you not seen the news? There's a feral mosquito zooming around our area. He was spotted last week and still hasn't been caught."
The old lady gasped in shock, eyes wide as she turned back to you.
"Have you been attacked, dear?!"
Well, fuck. So much for ignoring the problem until it couldn’t be ignored anymore.
"I guess..." You shrug, wincing slightly at the pain that shot up your left shoulder from the action.
"You guess?? You should’ve called the hotline if you were attacked!" Thomas frowned, just as confused as he was indignant.
"You don’t get it, I have so much going on right now..." You groan tiredly, already slipping into a depressive mood as you remember all the work you still had to do for your classes.
"What does that even have to do wit—?!"
"Hey, what's with the commotion?!"
You sighed heavily at your boss’s loud voice booming through the store, the balding man approaching with a huffy expression, slightly controlled thanks to the two clients standing with you in the aisle.
"Didn't know you were at the store today, mr. Miller...." You mumble softly, trying to dodge the last subject.
"I wasn’t supposed to be! But we all received a notification—there’s a Coven coming here to deal with the fucking feral!" He grunts, clearly annoyed. "I came to close the store; apparently, those snobby suckers want all businesses closed to make their work easier."
"Oh no, don’t tell me that…" Thomas sighs, suffering, pulling his phone from his pocket immediately to start a call with what you can only assume is his manager, turning away from the group.
"Does that mean I can go?" You ask, raising an eyebrow as you point hesitantly at the glass door.
"Oh, you have to let her go, she needs to go to the hospital...!" The old lady quickly agrees, nodding with the most pitiful look on her face.
"Hey, hey, wait a sec, who said anything about a hospital—?"
"You still haven’t checked the fucking mark consuming your neck? Are you trying to kill yourself, girly??" Mr. Miller interrupts, glaring at you like this situation isn’t part of his fault.
"What the hell? You didn’t give me any days off??" You sputter, indignant.
"I have only you and that stoned kid right now, I can't afford to give any days off! You should go when you have time, like everyone else who works!"
You’re ready to probably yell back at his face when Thomas quickly runs back to the group, a bit desperate as he fumbles with his bags and cellphone.
"They're already here...! I have to go back too!"
"Yeah, I should be going too! Hit me up when you're uptaded, Mr. Miller! Thanks so much, bye-bye!" You say quickly, running out the door after Thomas, your backpack already over your shoulder.
You couldn't even focus on your boss' loud ass voice as you hurried down the street, your head pounding relentlessly. Ever since you got bitten, this had been your reality—splitting headaches, aching muscles, no appetite, itchy gums, and, above all, a bone-deep exhaustion.
To be fair, some of the symptoms were still pretty mild. But deep down, a gnawing fear told you something was off. You could barely wrap your head around the fact that you were actually turning (had already turned?) into a vampire. But feeling like absolute crap made you wonder… what if something was going wrong?
You should call the hotline. You should go to the hospital. Just get it over with—at least get some help. But wouldn’t that change everything? Wouldn’t it make things even more complicated? And what would the all-powerful vampires do with you then?
God, you can’t graduate if you miss too many assignments in a row!
Don’t you have that group project due in two weeks—the one no one in your group has even said a peep about?
A small noise from the other side of the otherwise silent street caught your attention, your head snapping up in alert. The street was empty—of both cars and people, as usual—except for the two men standing by the closed pet store.
And goddamn, these were NOT normal men.
They were dressed strangely, a mix of military style and high-end fashion. Clearly rich. Heavy black clothes with small pops of color, loaded with pockets and belts. Their boots—thick, heavy, the kind that could break your bones with a single kick.
But that wasn’t the weird part...
No, the weird part was how much of their faces they were covering. One of the men wore a heavy jacket, with a hood and beanie pulled up to hide his jet-black hair. A black surgical mask—like the kind you'd see in a hospital—covered his face, and dark sunglasses hid his eyes.
The other… good lord, he had to be around three meters tall. Sure, vampires were naturally bigger than humans, but still… what the hell? This guy was wearing a full veil over his head, black, with suspicious red streaks running down it, and his heavy clothes hid the rest of his body just as much.
They... they had to be vampires, right...?
You flinched when the man wearing sunglasses suddenly snapped his head in your direction. His face was completely hidden, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze. The other man too turned in your direction slowly, now both of them facing you, completely still.
It truly seemed as if time had stopped for a few moments. No one moved or made a sound. You weren’t sure what to do. The ugly markings on your skin—too high on your neck to be hidden by your snug polo work shirt—seemed to burn under their stares.
You can't take this anymore.
Without thinking, you immediately turned around and tried to make your way back to the convenience store, your heart hammering against your ribcage.
But you didn’t even manage to take a single step forward.
"What is this?" the man wearing sunglasses asked, his voice rough and quiet.
You jumped in place, a small hiccup escaping your lips in surprise as you felt heavy hands settle on your shoulders, keeping you still.
How did they get to you so fast?? You were on the other side of the street!
"Fledgling." The other man spoke even more gruffly, tilting his head down to see you properly. His veil was falling forward just enough for you to almost see his face beneath it.
You could distinctly see a red glow beneath it.
"W-Wha—"
Your stuttered words were interrupted by the veiled man's big, heavy hand tilting your head up gently, while his partner unbuttoned your polo shirt, pulling the cloth aside to reveal more of the damaged area.
"Abused by their Sire." The veiled man growled lowly in anger, his voice still mostly quiet as he analyzed the markings. You could clearly hear a distinctive German accent in his words. "Who? It's just our Coven here."
"There were visiting Covens not that long ago." The other one also spoke with an accent—something Asian, it seemed—but you couldn't quite place it.
"Too fresh. This is a just-turned."
"E-Excuse me—"
"This is a grievous sin against nature itself." The Asian man growled, making every hair on your body stand on end. The sound of his growl sent a shiver through you, paralyzing you slightly. "She didn't even complete the transformation."
"Fledgling, who is your Sire?" the German muttered slowly, forcing your head slightly higher so you had to look up at him.
Now they quieted down, letting you speak. Though you didn't really want to right now—not when you didn't understand what the hell they were saying.
"M-My... my what...?" You mumble anxiously, looking up in between both of their covered faces.
...
"Scheißdreck!" The veiled man cursed gruffly, his hands immediately going under your armpits to lift you up as if you weighed nothing, making you yelp in surprise.
"I did think the tribunal was too quiet recently," the Asian guy grunted, his arms crossed firmly as he watched you squirm slightly in panic in the bigger man's arms. "They're gonna love to hear about this."
"And the feral?" the German asked quietly, gently immobilizing you against him, tapping your back in small motions to calm you down.
"The others are here. No matter how smart a feral, they are easy targets. We have more important matters to attend to now. Isn't that right, Fledgling?"
You whimpered slightly in fear and confusion, your head pressed against the taller vampire's shoulder.
"How are we going to deal with this...?" The German sounded slightly calmer now, less aggressive with you in his arms. "This is serious, Horangi, a crime of this caliber..."
"I know, König. The tribunal will deal with that. For now, we keep her close. How about her teeth?"
You felt your body being slightly adjusted to lay more against the big guy's body, his giant hand coming up to your mouth to push his fingers inside it.
"No way!" you hissed defensively, trying to turn your head from side to side to avoid him.
"Shh, Fledgling. You're okay, stay calm. Open up." You let out a grunt in surprise and indignation as Horangi stepped forward, forcing his fingers into your mouth while König held your head in place. "Ha, it's what we thought. A fresh fledgling. Her teeth haven't even fallen out yet." He laughed without humor, shaking his head slightly as he let go.
"F-Fall out?? W-Wait, t-this is...! O-Oh, God..."
You whimpered, getting overwhelmed. This was precisely why you didn’t want to deal with the attack and transformation matter. And a tribunal?? You were so busy, living alone, and you couldn’t miss work—much less miss your classes.
"You are tired, Liebchen. Your body is taking a toll after the bad transformation. Settle, we'll take care of things." He patted your back gently a few times.
"She has a ton of venom in her bloodstream, and she's still awake. Rock her a bit, and she should fall back asleep quickly. I'm calling Laswell."
Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 13)
Goddammit, you never felt this small before. Sure, all hybrids are twice or thrice your size, but why do you feel this way only now that you were standing in front of Johnny's kneeled down form?
He was kneeling down. Kneeling down. And was still bigger than you standing up.
He was large too. All of them were, really. Men as buff as them naturally had large bodies—it was impossible not to notice that their arms were as thick as your torso.
So....
How exactly were you supposed to fight with him?
It's a play fight, just a play fight, but still, you didn't know what to do. This was insane, how could someone like you fight with a werewolf his size...? And he wanted you to "mess him up"??
You should've suggest playing UNO instead, this is torture.
"Mhm.... I-I... dunno what to do...?" You mumble, uncertain. Your eyes flick to his form—the way excitement buzzes through him, his tail wagging fast behind him, ears pressed flat against his head. His toothy smile never wavering.
Big canines too, bigger than Ghost's.
"It's easy, lassie." He cooed, voice more controlled and calmer than what his body language was showing. "Come on, ya trust papa, right? Papa will never hurt ye."
"I don't know how to fight...." You insist, frowning a little in worry, still shuffling quietly in front of him.
“Don’ have tae. Wha’ does a wee pup ken?” He snickers, rolling his eyes as his accent gets stronger out of nowhere. “Ah just like ma kids messin’ me up! Ye can bite, scratch, or anythin’ else, really. Ah can take anythin’, ye wee runt!”
You hesitate, still looking over his form in worry and confusion. You didn't even move from your position, just holding onto your hoodie as you rubbed your socked feet with each other.
Johnny’s excited, competitive demeanor softened a bit as he sized you up, his tail wagging less and his ears perking up again.
“C’mere, puppy, c’mere… pstpst, it’s alrigh’…” He cooed gently, beckoning you closer with a small hand gesture. “Come tae papa, he’ll teach ye everythin’, aye?”
You blushed in embarrassment at his attitude, letting out a quiet sigh as you approached, still clutching the sleeves of your hoodie.
He immediately flashed you a big, toothy grin—sincere, yet still intimidating. His dangerous demeanor remained as scary as ever. Honestly? He looked kinda insane.
And then—
Big hands grabbed you, making you gasp in surprise as he took you down onto the mat. Technically, he just kinda grabbed you and eased you onto your back, but still—you weren’t expecting it! It was fast.
“Down ye go.” He smiled in a terrifying mix of gentleness and smugness. “Now what, wee bonnie baby?” His tone was pure challenge.
You stared up at him with wide eyes, frozen for a few seconds. His big palm rested gently on your chest, fingers spread just enough to frame your neck as he held both your shoulders down with one hand, caging you in. His feral eyes and sharp grin never wavered as he loomed over you, kneeling like a true predator.
You breathed in shakily at the thought, both small hands coming up to grasp his wrist, trying to gently push his hand away. Your legs curling up close to your chest.
“Don’ let him pin ya down.”
Ghost’s voice immediately caught your attention, making you turn your head on the mat to glance at him sideways on the edge of the mat. He stood with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, watching closely.
“Aye, runt, why’re ye lettin’ me pin ye down?” Soap teased again, one of his fingers gently rubbing your cheek from where he held you against the mat.
You bit your lip at the provocation, anxiety creeping back in. You pushed with a bit more force, trying to make his hand move, but weakened your grip when he laughed mockingly, leaning his head down dangerously close to yours.
“Look at this… nae claws at all, such cute wee fingers… trimmed nails and all, eh, wee baby? Price was talkin’ ‘bout ye humans… how we’ve gotta keep ye groomed right—short nails on hands an’ feet, brushed wee teeth, and trimmed hair… are all humans frail wee thingies like ye, runt?” He snickered, a broad, teasing smile stretched across his face.
"Big talk for a dirty mutt." Ghost joined in, voice low and raspy as he steaped on the mat, feet covered in black socks.
You immediately tensed up in worry at his tone, eyes widening as your body locked up. It sounded harsh, and for a moment, you genuinely feared they might start arguing right then and there.
But...
Johnny just laughed it off, his smile still wide, his hand still pressing you down against the mat as he kept an eye on Simon entering the mat from his peripheral vision.
“Are ye gonna get in the way, Si?” Soap asked menacingly, tilting his head slightly, baring his teeth at the other man.
“No. I don’t plan on fightin’ ya. I’m here for the kid.” he answered simply, dropping heavily to his knees by your side. "Come on, fledgling. His fingers are wide spread, tuck your hands under them."
You blinked up at him, stunned for a few seconds, before quickly glancing back at Johnny’s hand. Letting go of his wrist, you forced your hands under his fingers, slowly but surely lifting it off your shoulders and chest.
Sure, Johnny wasn’t putting much strength behind it, and he was still cooing at you the whole time, but you managed to take his hand off of you, only for Simon to roughly shove Johnny down onto the mat.
“Hey!” Soap laughed, falling onto his back, his elbows holding his body up.
"Go, up, come on." Simon nudged you, pushing your sitted form in Johnny's direction gently.
You got to your feet, slightly unsteady, feeling the gentle push of his hand that made you tumble on top of Soap, who was just staring at you with a smile.
“Hurt him. Go for his neck.” Ghost instructed, arms crossed as he watched you both.
“Wi’ these wee hands?” Soap cooed mockingly, his hand coming up to gently grab yours and rub with his thumb.
Ghost sighed quietly at your lack of reaction, watching you sit on top of Soap’s waist, your hand held in his, looking uncertain. Truly, zero instincts with this one.
“Gaz was right… it really does feel like when we had only newborns.” Soap laughed quietly, messing slightly with your hand, moving it around. “Ah used tae put them on ma chest for tummy time, too.”
You frowned slightly in confusion at that, head tilting slightly to the side.
"What's that...?"
“Oh, it’s—Ah mean…”
Even though Johnny was still smiling, he frowned a bit too, apparently caught off guard by your question. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. For a moment, it even seemed like pity crossed his face too.
“It’s when ye put babies on a soft surface, belly to the ground, and leave ‘em there. Helps ‘em strengthen their bodies so they can start crawling later on,” Ghost explained calmly, pushing you up slightly higher against Soap. “Now, come on, try to hurt him. He can take it.”
You still hesitated at that, unsure about actually trying to hurt one of your foster parents. Still, you sighed quietly before grabbing the hand that was holding yours and pushing against Johnny's face, hearing him laugh.
"Yeah, that's not going to do much." Ghost commented dryly.
Before you could say anything else, you let out a small, surprised yelp as Soap suddenly switched places with you, grabbing your small body effortlessly and getting on top of you once again, big grin still plastered on his stupid smiling face.
This time, at least, you managed to place your feet against his chest, pushing him slightly away from your body.
"Ya ken, Price's always liked a rough fight," Soap chuckled, a smug smile on his face as his big hand wrapped around your calf. "Me too, o' course, but he's even more violent than me, if ye believe it. Big bastard roughed up everyone as a soldier, an' let all the kids rough him up right back as a parent. He loves it."
"To be fair, most of us do." Ghost nodded from his place on the mat.
"But how does a wee thing like ye plan to do it if ye dinnae even try?"
At that, your leg was quickly pulled back, your body dragged across the mat as you let out a small shriek, only to immediately laugh right after when Soap stopped pulling you by the leg.
Actually, you were so busy giggling in a mix of surprise and excitement that you didn’t notice Johnny and Simon looking at you with surprise and contentment. It took them a bit, but they finally managed to make you actually laugh.
And what a cute laugh you had.
"Guys, come on up, Price still wants to check if her cold's gone away and watch a movie!" Kyle called out from the stairs, smiling gently at the scene.
"Heard that, lass? Hope ye like cartoons, ‘cause we love ‘em!" Johnny smiled excitedly, helping you up onto your little feet.
"I actually developed a liking for them after bein' forced to watch thousands of different ones as our kids grew up," Ghost commented, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Coco's very nice. Would ya like to see it, kid?"
"I'm... not sure...." You mumble, not recognizing the name.
