mj

you'd been imprisoned by the Hutts for some time now. nowadays, they rarely bothered you, you'd gotten quiet after you got used to your new living quarters.

by living quarters you mean the small cage they've got you locked in for about six months now. you started your entrapment by fighting them every day, hissing and snarling at the Hutt twins but evenually you gave in, just like they said you would. especially after it clicked that your fighting just made them want to hurt you more, that they liked breaking a persons spirit more than anything.

so that leaves you here, curled up, defeated in your cage. from the Hutt's throne room you can hear some commotion. probably some poor soul they're playing with before they kill them.

you sigh, rolling over to your back, lazily like the cat you swore you weren't.

your head did raise in alarm however when the door to your left slid open.

a man in shining sliver armour walked with fast footsteps into your room. he almost walked right past you put stopped just at your cage.

"I've never seen one of you before." the masked man says as he approaches your quarters.

you glare at him through the bars of your cage hoping that from his perspective it looks more threatening than it does pathetic.

your hopes and wishes go without answer clearly, as the Mandalorian kneels and slowly reaches a hand through the bars.

you snarl at his gloved hand, you're no animal, you think as he moves to pet you. despite that train of thought, you find yourself melting as soon as his hand makes contact with you.

more gently than you can imagine, the mandalorian strokes a hand over your hair and ears, you can't help but lean into the touch.

"there we go," he said softly, it was slightly distorted coming out of his helmet but the words still washed over you and made you feel a little like a kitten again. "thats very good."

you can't help but trill happily as he scratches underneath your chin, eyes closing in contentment.

"can you talk?" he asks. you nod, but when you fail to say anything he reiterates. "will you talk?"

you smirk, still not saying a word but pushing your face into his palm. he sighs but it sounds as though he has a smile on his face and he does resume petting you so, he can't be too mad.

he pauses for a moment and you glare at him affronted. in a moment he destroys the lock to your cage with a single shot from his blaster, the door swings open for the first time in months.

"I have some friends on the way," he says, "so we better get out of here."

he extends a hand to you and you hesitate but take it and let him pull you out of your quarters and into freedom.

"Lets go."

--

omg I'm sorry I didnt see this earlier!! (and apologies for being MIA, I accidentally became a valued employee at my workplace and now they need me D:)

as for reader with vitiligo!

you see these guys pretty much daily, working as their secretary. you generally try to cover up your vitiligo as best you can. long sleeves and shirts, high collared shirts.

initially the guys think you're hiding something scandalous, like hikers behind the turtlenecks or tattoos under thick jumpers and cardigans.

when they eventually get clued on they become quickly obsessed. loving the different patterns and tones of your skin and often offering to take your jacket at the door just to have an excuse to see them.

it changes when they realise that you are self conscious about your vitiligo. because while you've always seen it as an 'imperfection' the guys refuse to see it like that.

maybe one time you're out and about with them, maybe catching drinks after a long shift and you overhear some comment from a stranger about your skin. your instinct is to shut down, pull your sleeves back over your arms. a flush comes blazing up your neck and across your cheeks, you hope that the guys haven't noticed.

unfortunately for you, or rather, quite fortunately indeed, they did hear and all of them are immediately up in arms. it takes you literally holding them back to get them to stop yelling at the guy, or even from jumping him.

after they've calmed down a bit one of them grabs your arm and gently rolls up your sleeve, pressing kisses to the places your vitiligo is most present.

it isn't long before the other arm is captured in a similar grasp.

--

tf141 are an incredibly tight knit coven, known for their privacy.

which was why it was so strange when you came along. you were just some human secretary, nothing all that special, at least not yet.

but there was something about you, some smell or instinct that they couldn't resist. they wanted to be around you all the time, having out by your desk, inviting you to drinks and work parties.

but you're somewhat of a recluse yourself. you never really went to the work parties, not even the ones you were explicitly invited to.

it took a lot of begging, and a lot of morning coffees delivered to you by hand for them to convince you to join them for drinks.

there was just something about this team that really seemed like a family. and maybe you've been feeling a little lonely lately and just wanted to experience some of that familiarity they all shared.

so you stared to hang around them and you eventually realised there was something sort of... off.

when you figured it out they expected you to be scared, for you to reject them, they were fully prepared to have to let you go.

but you had a reaction none of them could ever expect. you wanted to join them, to be a part of their family, of their coven. you wanted to be a vampire yourself.

they all wanted to be the one to turn you. how cute you would be, they thought, to have you trailing after them like a puppy, wanting to be close, to be touching at all times.

but price, the oldest vampire and the sire of most of them told them to hold back. he had to steal himself to your pout, to tell you to wait at least a year, to make sure it was what you really wanted, before you were turned.

it was an agonising year of waiting. they all teased you for your eagerness but you knew they all wanted it just as much as you did.

when the time came you said your goodbyes to your human life and braced yourself. you thought it would be excruciating, but it wasn't so terrible. really you don't even remember it.

your life now is much more simple. you still feel like yourself, still smart, still funny, but now you feel lighter. there's nothing to worry about apart from being close to your coven.

you spent most of your time in the nest, being babysat and tended to by one of the 141. you were groomed and fed, dressed and monitored by them.

(p.s. I apologise for an abundance of 'y/n' use in this fic. I tried my best to stay in tune to Rocky's speaking patterns and he uses Graces name like a lot.)

--

it started when you offered to watch Rocky sleep. you knew the importance of surveillance to the Eridian and you could use a break from work anyways.

to pass the time you picked up a pencil and paper. you had recently re-aquired your skill for drawing. it took a few sleep cycles for you to remember you had any artistic abilities. your coma-amnesia wasn't nearly as bad as Grace's but there were still gaps, holes in your memory.

but since remembering your love for drawing it has been hard to put your pencil down. at first it started with sketching the stars out the window, new constellations and planetary systems never seen before by human eyes; it felt an injustice not to jot them down.

then you started to draw the ship, then Grace. it took you a few tries to get his face right, but now you're pretty proud of your likeness.

Rocky is terrible for staying still so you've never really had the opportunity to draw him, just small doodles in the margins of your notes. more like scribbles than anything.

but now you've been put on sleep watch, its your chance.

you start by just getting his general shape right. grace was correct in saying that Rocky's anatomy resembles that of a spider.

a few of your portraits you're pretty proud of so you stick them to the wall beside you with some masking tape.

you're doodling aimlessly when he starts to move.

"y/n?" he asks and you respond quickly, so he knows nothing happened while he was sleeping. "What you doing, question."

he gestures with his head-body-thing to your pencil, still scratching on the paper.

"drawing," you respond.

"you are an artist, question." he asks. you can't help but smile at his curiosity.

"not really," you respond, "just like to do it in my spare time, it makes me happy."

"what you draw, question." he asks.

"well usually I just draw what's around me but today I was drawing you." you tell him.

his rocky body seems to vibrate, an excited trilling noise starts to emanate from him.

"y/n draw rocky! must see. this instant." he demands, getting in his little ball and rolling over.

you turn your paper towards him and show him the drawings of him you've done.

"rocky looks beautiful!"he exclaims after pointing his sensor at the page, more happy music plays from him. "y/n very talented artist. rocky's beauty hard to capture on paper."

you laugh, pleased that he likes your work. in response he does a little wiggle. the same one he does whenever you or Grace laugh, you've deduced that it sounds a little like music, the language of the Eridians. it probably sounds to him like you're speaking in his tongue.

"do more, question. y/n draw more pictures, question." he asks.

"sure buddy, anything you want."

he does an excited little circle in his ball and disappears off to tell Grace of your promise.

Ooo vampires, you've really hit my niche.

--

its certainly been an adjustment since being turned.

you feel a little like you've become a toddler again, or as if you've turned into a puppy with paws too big for its body.

walking has become somewhat of a challenge for you since the change. you've become quite uncoordinated and clumsy, mostly relying on one of your coven-mates to lean on or carry you around.

they assured you that your coordination will return over time, though you get the impression they would be sad to see your clumsiness, almost like a mother dropping their child off at school for the first time and realising they are becoming independent.

you spend most of your time in the nest, swaddled in blankets and being fed by hand. when you complain about their coddling it only seems to add fuel to the fire.

your sense of smell is off the charts. you can tell who is coming around the corner before you've even seen them, able to identity them from smell alone. when you tell them this they laugh and explain that you smell very strong to them too.

when you ask what you smell like the say its like a new baby smell. you turn up your nose at this and pout, displeased by this assessment.

despite your adamance to be independent, you cannot stand being away from them. one of them always stays back from missions to be with you.

they leaned the hard way that if they leave you alone you will tear the whole place apart trying to find them.

last time they all left for a mission they came home to find the sofa cushions completely destroyed and you sitting in a pouty heap on the floor, surrounded by feathers.

they cannot resist you when you give them puppy eyes. its your not-so-secret weapon that you can use to get anything you want. just a head tilt and one bat of those eyelashes and they're done for.

--

dragon hybrid!price who sees you as part of his horde. to him, you are treasure.

dragon hybrid!price that doesn't understand why you'd ever want to leave the nest. isn't it warm? comfortable? you couldn't possibly be safer anywhere else. he gives you literally everything you ask for and everything you could possibly want.

however, you're a human, you're naturally curious and easily bored. it isn't long before you're trying to sneak out of the nest and into the big, unknown world.

to him you're like a fragile little baby who doesn't have any scales, or claws or wings, who can't breathe fire to defend themselves. to him, you're like a toddler who he needs to keep in his sight at all times.

maybe one time you do sneak out of the nest but no matter what you do, where you hide, Price will find you. there's never much warning before he appears to take you home. within seconds you're picked up and flown back to the nest, buried beneath blankets with your dragon dad curled around you.

--

you're a little menace to the guys and you know it. nothing brings you more joy than causing mischief.

the guys pretend to hate it, roll their eyes at you, smack you around the back of the head and even pick you up by the scruff and shake you about. but they are secretly very entered.

from the day they first met you, you have been an absolute trouble maker. its safe to say you fit in well with the group.

you've formed a reputation for yourself as a little hellion. you find it hard sometimes to resist your instincts, one mans trash is another mans treasure, is kind of your motto as a raccoon hybrid. its not rare for the guys to find you head first into a lost and found.

one time Price found you and pulled you out by the back of your shirt. "What are you doing, rookie?" he questioned but when your only answer was to squirm in his hold and whine like a kicked puppy he let you get back to what you were doing.

you have pretty slippery fingers as a raccoon hybrid. constantly fighting the urge to steal something from the guys. you watch Ghost slide his communicator away, your fingers itch with the knowledge of how easy it would be to steal, and add to your collection of stolen gadgets. you see Gaz put his lunch with a "do not touch" post-it note on it and you can't help but help yourself, (this sign can't stop me for I cannot read).

the team didn't know what to do when they found you.

alone and clearly frightened to death, you were obviously very cautious of these strangers. but they ended up being the first nice people you've met in a long time. of course you get a little clingy.

after you realise they aren't going to cause you any harm, you run over, wrap your arms around one of them bury your face in their side.

tentatively, a hand is placed atop your hair and gently pets you, clearly not very experienced in calming a child.

from then on you refused to be separated. you can be found at any time, glued to one of their sides, your tiny hand wrapped in theirs.

you become sort of a little sibling to the whole task force. you gain a new family and they melt a little anytime one of them manages to make you smile.

the people have been heard!!

puppy hybrid!reader who is obsessed with praise.

it turns your brain to mush a bit whenever they get some. its like a switch is flipped in your head, you go from an intimidating, threatening solider to a stupid little puppy in seconds.

of course, your teammates use this extensively to fuck with you, (and maybe they like the effect it has on you for other reasons too).

especially if you're being annoying on purpose. you're barking in their faces, nipping at their fingers you're getting a "good job puppy" from one of them to completely shut you up.

it happened most recently when you were play fighting with Gaz and about to win when he hit you with a "that's a good boy/girl" and you just melted, allowing yourself to be flipped and pinned. you didn't even really care once the ear scratches had began.

they also know that they can dangle this praise in front of you like a treat to make you do your chores. its not that you're lazy, its just that you need some... extra motivation.

of course, you get endlessly teased for this 'weakness' of yours. there have been times when you're trying to act tough in front of someone and they complete ruin it for you be mentioning the way you utterly melt at the slightest bit of praise.

when Ghost found you, you were immediately startled by his mask. it was like something out of your nightmares, you couldn't help but run away.

he found you of course, you find out quickly that once he's set his sights on something it's already his. (you also find out that running from him is a pointless activity, he will always catch you).

you were caught, scuffed and mewling and dragged back to base.

you realise that for such an intense-looking individual, Simon Riley is a very gentle person. the hand around your neck, while grabbing your scruff to stop you from attempting to escape before you receive proper care, is fairly soft, and that he's stroking a spot just behind your ear with his thumb.

after he lets you go, (and maybe you miss his hold a little more than you'd admit), and you get all fixed up, you leave the medic tent to find that he was waiting for you just outside.

he asks if you're okay to which you sheepishly nod. you try to meet his eyes, just for a second and find that he's not even trying to make eye contact. you can tell, even behind his mask that he is distracted, looking instead at your ears.

self consciously now you move them, just a twitch as if you just remembered they were there and he jumps too.

curious, you think, and tilt your head, narrowing your eyes at him. he seems nervous afterwards and quickly excuses himself.

you stick around for the next couple of weeks, at first it was so the medical team could keep an eye on your injuries, but it quickly becomes something else.

for none of your own doing, Ghost has been seemingly trying to spend time with you. he's always showing up wherever you are and making awkward, stilted conversation. you feel a little bad maybe, you're not really talking back much, you're much too nervous to engage in small talk.

he always seems distracted though, and you quickly realise that he really, really just wants to pet you.

you've revived pets from other tf members in passing,a quick hair ruffle or scratch beneath the chin, but Ghost has always abstained.

until now. he's talking to you but you're not really listening, you're ideated watching his hand. if he would only work up the bravery to reach out, you'd love a pet, especially from him.

maybe he just needs a bit of help getting there, you think. you reach for his hand and with two of yours, bring his palm up to rest between your ears.

he stops speaking in the middle of his sentence, shocked at your uncharacteristic boldness. but the prompting is all he needs, immediately he is delivering the sweetest, softest pets in the entire world. it makes your knees weak and you can't help but purr in contentment, especially when he doubles the effort and pets you with both hands.

--

just thought id give y'all a heads up and let you know that I'm happy to take requests!

Miguel, who is already very cat like to begin with develops these tiger traits.

suddenly he can be found lounging in spots of sunlight, rolled onto his back, eyes closed with a content expression on his face.

he's always had fangs but now they're longer, sharper, and he keeps running his tongue over them.

and speaking of his tongue. he can't seem to keep it to himself nowadays. in a truly out of character moment, Miguel snagged you after a long day of work and attempted to lick up your face and neck. you shove him off because the sensation is too strange, but the look he gives you almost makes you want to invite him to do it again. (but no, it was rough in texture and it was making your face all flushed).

he's obsessed with self grooming, often interrupting himself to smooth down a stray arm hair that was bothering him.

when you're laying down next to him he insists on having some piece of his body weighing over yours. this is rather difficult because the man is absolutely huge, and he goes completely dead weight when napping.

and the napping is constant too. you find yourself herded into his office and being forced to lay down on his floor or sofa-bed where he can cur against you, nuzzling into your hair.

recently, people have began to bring up your smell, claiming that you stink of Miguel. you tell them that's insane, that you don't even spend that much time together.

but the next time you see him, you've showered and his head immediately perks up and he hurries towards you and rubs his cheek on your head.

Miguel O'hara is a strange one, that's for sure. somehow both an egotistical maniac and self-depreciating idiot. it shouldn't be possible to be both but somehow... he manages.

one thing is for sure though. he certainly doesn't like you. its hard to say if he really likes any of the other spider-people. he spends all of his time in his office-lair-thing, mumbling to his ai friend.

its not your fault that annoying people into begrudgingly liking you is the only way you know how to make connection. so of course you try the same tactic with Miguel.

the first attempt is unsuccessful and ends with you banished from the premises of his office. but you are nothing if not resilient.

attempt number two is put into action when he has already left his room. you figure there's less boundaries crossed there, you're both on neutral ground. hey, maybe the guy just likes his space being respected. you can't fault him for that.

but no, you're met with a singular groan and then silence, he seemingly is still not over your last interaction.

eventually, you begin to see change. you're not shoved from his office quite as quickly, he withstands a nudge to the shoulder without giving you an earful about personal space. you even get him to crack a smile at one of your jokes.

you two get so close that the other spider people begin to take notice. sure, it doesn't help that you do tend to follow him around like a lost puppy, and that Miguel now tolerates the cafeteria if you are there.

just small things that spider-people only pick up on because they're an unusually observant bunch.

until one day you both make move so astronomically bad for both of your reputations, and you'll never live it down.

see you were both just hanging out in Miguels office-lair when the two of you accidentally fell asleep... leaning against each other.

when you were found in the morning by a couple of spider-people just wanting to report back from a mission, you knew it was over. by lunch time it felt like the whole of spider-society knew of you little friendship.

another thing about losing his ability to float is that Caine is no longer physically out of reach of the players.

of course, most of them don't outright go and grab him, they're all pretty reasonable all things considered. so what actually instigates this is his own stupidity.

maybe he's stood on a box or something to gain the attention of his players and when he's done giving instruction for his upcoming adventure he forgets his current predicament and goes to step off of the box.

in a impressive display of fast reflexes, its actually Kinger who manages to grab Caine before he hits the floor.

scuffed like a cat, Caine immediately wiggles to get out of his grip and Kinger slowly lowers him to the ground.

Caine pretends to brush off invisible dirt to cover up his embarrassment and ushers the players on their way.

the virus member get more bold after that.

Jax is particularly fond of leaning his wait on Caine's head, forcing his teeth to clack shut, effectively silencing and blinding him.

Ragatha, who seems oblivious to her own strength; one day, in the heat of the moment, goes to hug him and lifts him entirely off of his feet

Kinger is the worst for it though. Caine supposes in his muddled head, Kinger has forgotten Caine's superiority and sees his loudness as a cry for attention (which is exactly what it is), and his complaining as a tantrum that needs soothing.

Caine can try to dodge him but ht hold chess piece is surprisingly quiet. not that he's being stealthy intentionally, Kinger just has a knack for appearing places. and there's no warning before Caine is unceremoniously scooped up, his head tucked into the mans shoulder.

not that Caine is... entirely complaining. Kingers robe is very soft. and it is kind of nice to receive some sort of positive response from his players even if it is a little... outside for the box, as Gangle might say.