#vampire!ghost

It rlly takes the “I’m a monster” wind out of ghost’s sails when soap is following him around asking to try and make soap punch himself to prove some sort of mental strength

ommgg this was lost in my drafts 😭 Its like finding cash in the couch omg. n e way. happy halloween? this uhhhhh this turned smutty ...

cw: smut! blow job. sorta cnc - Johnny wants Simon to order him around with the thrall.

Ghost had hoped the whole being-buried-alive fiasco would be the worst of it.

Clawing out of the dirt with lungs that didn’t need air anymore… realizing his heart hadn’t picked up its old rhythm… feeling that strange, cold clarity under his skin where warmth used to live. That alone should’ve been enough horror for one lifetime.

The thrall, though... that had been a whole new hell.

He rarely used it. Refused to.

But of course it happened on a mission gone bad. Too many enemies and too little cover. Soap high on adrenaline, and too out in the open.

He’d turned, saw Johnny’s wide frantic eyes, and didn't have a choice. At least, he felt he didn't.

A command ripped out of him with the force of hunger.

"Drop, Soap."

Soap dropped instantly. It was as if Ghost had reached inside him and rewired the man’s will with a flick of his fingers.

It should have terrified him.

It terrified Ghost.

Soap, however, was fucking delighted.

By the next morning, Ghost couldn’t take three steps without Johnny at his heels like an enthusiastic terrier with a death wish.

“You can’t tell me you’re not even a wee bit curious,” Soap insisted, jogging backwards in front of him. “C’mon, L.T. Just one more time. Make me do something stupid.”

“No.”

“What about something harmless? Tell me to blink funny. Or jump. Hell, tell me to do a wee spin!”

Ghost stopped abruptly, leaving Soap nearly tripping to stop. “I am not using dark magic to train you like a dog.”

Soap grinned. “Aye, but you could. That’s the point.”

“It’s not a toy.”

“Never said it was. Said it was cool.”

Ghost hated that the compliment warmed something in the cold quiet cavern where his heart used to beat.

“Johnny.”

“Try makin’ me punch myself. Bet I could fight it.”

“No.”

“Try makin’ me kiss you, then.” Soap waggled his brows. “If I’m losing autonomy, might as well make it interestin’—”

Part 1 of a mini-fic series with vampire!Ghost x accidentally sired!reader

1.2k words cw: blood, mild gore, death(?) but not really, vampirism- biting and sire bonds, power dynamics, lots of swearing lol

You were meant to die. You weren’t meant to have bitten down on his hand when he covered your screams as he tore into your neck. In the thrill of the the feast, he had not even felt the way your teeth had managed to snag on the tough skin of his palm and draw blood. The frenzy brought on by drinking your blood was enough to block out any pain he would have felt. And when he finally pulled away from your limp body, the life sucked out of you, hardly a liter of blood left in your veins, he didn’t notice the nearly black crimson smudge by your lips, his venom already coursing through you, bringing you new life. He was far too busy admiring the wound on your neck, sparkling in the moonlight like liquid rubies. 

It was all a mistake. You were meant to decompose in that wood, not turn into a creature damned by God and abandoned by humanity. Do forgive him. He’s not even a century old, an amateur really. 

It takes the body a week to turn. A week of excruciating pain, the price to pay for cheating death. Only, you did not ask for this. You’re all too aware for those seven long days, senses painfully heightened beyond human limits. Body still rigid with death, you’re locked in place, forced to endure. The screeches of birds all too loud, the frantic beat of a deer’s hooves against the forest floor as it flees from your unnatural existence. When you’re freed from this delerious state of torment, an icy fever of a turning, it’s pure panic.

A vampire, that’s what you are now. But it should be impossible. They were ousted from your country years ago, policies put in place to send them all out and ensure they stayed out… Clearly, at least one did not get the memo.

Each movement is clumsy, too fast and strong. You’re stumbling on your feet when you finally manage to stand, leaving a dent in the bark of a tree when you reach out to balance against it. Scents and sounds are overwhelming- thousands of little heartbeats pitter-patter from the critters of the woods. There’s not much thought to your actions as you follow a feeling, a tug in your mind, lurching towards it. This strange pull is the only thing that feels right. Your teeth might ache, your body weak and starving, but this inexplicable tug, tug, tug feels like a compass guiding you home.

It only gets stronger when you tear into a clearing. The sounds of the forest seem to fade a little when you lock eyes with him. Him. 

He’s leaving a small cabin, heading down a gravel path towards a rusty pick-up truck, but he stops when he sees you. There’s a black baklava covering most of his face but you could recognize those brown eyes tinted with a slight sheen of red anywhere. They’re the only solid image you could conjure in your mind during your change. 

“You… You did this to me.” The words aren’t filled with as much bitter hatred as you hoped they would be. The memories race back all at once and the feelings along with them. Fear and anger battling with an instinctive knowledge that you need him. Where is this all coming from? 

“For fuck’s sake…” is the first thing he says to you, his accented voice thick and deep. He knows what you are, knows he made a terrible, terrible mistake. It would be the smartest choice to simply kill you. But just as you feel the connection, he feels the same. It would go against everything inside him to hurt you. “Jus’ my bloody luck. Why didn’ ya jus’ die?” His voice is a grumble as if he’s the one that has a right to be irritated by the situation.

“You killed me! You- you bit me and-...” The words are frantic and delerious as they come out of your mouth, the panicked confusion finally catching up to you. Before you can even get that far, though, he’s before you in a second and his large hand is gripping the back of your neck, pushing you towards his pick-up truck.

“Wait! You can’t just- I’m not going anywhere with you!” You try to duck out from his grip but he’s far too quick for you. He makes a fist around the roots of your hair, tight enough to keep you in place but not enough to hurt.

“Come on,” is all he offers as explanation, voice still carrying that annoyed quality. 

Fuck him. You raise your leg and then kick his ankle with as much momentum as you can gather. Given your new strength, his weight gives out and he lets go of your hair. Your eyes widen as you watch him land on his ass. Though it’s more than you intended, you take the opportunity to scramble away. 

“Goddamn, baby vamp… Come ‘ere.” He hisses as he gets up, brushing off his dark jeans with a quick and forceful swipe of his hands. You catch a glimpse of a flash of red in his eyes. His anger settles over you, crawling under your skin in a way that leaves you entirely unnerved. “I said, come ‘ere.” 

The words seem to reverberate through you and before you can even process why they felt like that, you’re walking towards him again. The actions are your own, but that compulsion to do what he says? That is instinctive. 

You shake your shoulders a little, trying to brush off the thick feeling his control. “What did you just do to me?” Your voice is quieter, resistance slipping through your fingers like you’re trying to grasp water. 

He doesn’t answer and it sends a fresh wave of resentment through you but this time, you don’t protest as he nudges you towards the car. Despite the fact that he killed you, seems to lack basic communication skills, and has some sort of sway over your mind, there’s a deep and seemly ancient part of you, beyond your rational mind, that trusts him wholly. And there’s an even deeper and illogical desire inside you to not upset him again, to make him proud. 

There’s no time to make sense of these bizarre feelings now, not as he basically carrols you into the backseat. Huffing, you settle into the seat, watching as he gets into the driver’s seat. You wait a beat for an explanation but when he just starts driving, you know one is not coming. 

Frustration building, you smack the shoulder of his seat, the leather easily tearing under your nails and the stuffing pushing through the torn leather in plush clouds. “You can’t just turn me into a fucking vampire, use some mind magic on me, and then not explain any of it!”

He doesn’t even react to your outburst, merely glancing at you in the rearview mirror before looking back at the road. “Buckle up.”

“Asshole…” you mutter, hesitating a moment but eventually doing as he says because not doing it leaves you antsy and jittery. You glare at his face in the rearview mirror and the scowl on your face causes your new fangs to prick into your lips. “Ow…” Reaching up, you rub the small hurt. 

You swear you can hear him let out a chuckle, the sound muffled by his mask.

cw: dark themes, horror, violence, blood mentions, mdni previous | series | next

vampire!ghost liked for things to follow predictable patterns, he appreciated price’s rules for the club because that meant he knew what to expect and even when it came to the unpredictable behaviors of others he knew what particular courses of action to take in order to achieve a predictable outcome. 

you, however, were unpredictable. gaz’s reaction to you had been unpredictable because it wasn’t just the blood lust. if it had just been the blood lust they could have dealt with it, handled it. gorge the younger vampire on blood, fuck him into submission and then the craving would be diminished, muted, gone. 

but that hadn’t worked this time. vampire!ghost listened to the younger vampire rubbing himself raw in the shower, crying out your name over and over. Night after night. the only reprieve he got was when one of the two of them was away for work, and oftentimes it was the two of them working together, bunking in shitty little motels while they waited for their targets. vampire!ghost was nearly ready to snatch you and present you to gaz to get the vampire to shut up. 

it didn’t help that you were haunting vampire!ghost’s thoughts and dreams. 

vampire!ghost wanted a quiet night at the club, gaz huddled up next to him, cocktails flowing, price with them. (that was another thing that had changed, ever since they had found you price had been a ghost, haunting dark corners and watching. never straying over to their booth, always out of reach, refusing to acknowledge that something had changed between them)

now their new normal included you, you waiting tables, you taking their orders, you trying to escape their attention in the most professional ways possible. but tonight as vampire!ghost walked through the doors to the club he didn’t see you, he didn’t see gaz either. 

had the idiot finally lost control? 

no, not that, because price was stalking across the club floor towards the door that led to the bathrooms. and vampire!ghost could smell blood, something sweeter, something fresh, something that overwhelmed his senses having only gotten sips of your scent in the past weeks. 

this was more, this was a lot more. 

vampire!ghost did not believe in gods, he lived in a world where men were ruled by monsters. but the moment he heard you cry out through the closed door he made a silent prayer to whatever might be listening to protect you. as much as vampire!ghost might have wanted to watch gaz destroy you, destroy you in the best ways possible, where your pleasure and your pain were for them only, it was a destruction you would survive. you were part of the pattern now, vampire!ghost was not ready to lose that little space he had carved out for you. 

he made a second prayer before ripping the door open. 

please don’t be gaz.