#Cod wraith

[kommandokawaii]

Sticking our cute little friends into resin shapes because why not!

[bluegiragi]

reward (part 3)

(full comic on patreon)

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader

You were not expecting anything from this new placement. You knew better now a days, have been on the system since day 1, and at this point? You know better than to hope.

Usually the houses you ended up in were all mediocre at best. Foster parents that already had their own children were the most neglectful homes, even to their own children. Which also resulted in bad blood between the foster kids and the biological kids.

And worst of all, you were human. Just a simple, small, defenseless human stuck in the foster system. Usually, they try to match human kids with human foster parents. But, humans were not a big part of the population, in fact, different kind of hybrids were the biggest part of the population.

And now, failed attempts after failed attempts, you got transfered to a neighbor city (not for the first time), and this time, to a hybrid pack househood. It wasn't your first time with hybrids, but it was always a little scary. They were strangers, and adult hybrids were SO much bigger than humans. Especially a human your age, with your small size thanks to lack of care throughout the years.

Hybrids were bigger, stronger, scarier... still, you knew it couldn't be worse than some houses you have been in before, or at least, that's what you're telling yourself. Not that your social worker was helping with your anxiety, as the old bear hybrid woman gave you some information about your new foster family.

They were a big pack, which was a concept you already had difficulty to grasp. Pack doesn't always mean the nuclear family, but could also mean family friends, or sometimes, just relatives. As a human, hearing the word "pack", or "hoard", or "coven", or whatever else they could use to name their little groups, always left you a little confused.

They were four hybrid parents, a Dragon, a Werewolf, a Harpy and a Wraith. They were all part of the military, special forces or something, and they had a lot of children already, children that were already adults and had moved out some time ago. They were taking fosters now, and accordingly to your social worker, they were delightful and very nurturing parents.

You don't know what to think of that.

So all you could do was hold tightly to your beated backpack straps as your social worker excitedly introduced you to four hybrid men in their big house, giant hybrid men with so many muscles, and why is everyone so big and buff?? You knew they were military before, but god dammit, they could crush you with one hand. Here to hoping you don't annoy them to that point.

You weren't really making eye contact, keeping your eyes to the ground as you heard your social worker talk to the new fosters, but still, you would peak at them every couple of seconds or so, just to assess how they were reacting to your presence.

The dragon, one of the biggest hybrids you have ever seen, had that kinda of... respectful and mature face, smart eyes that went between you and the social worker as he nodded along to what she was saying. He was standing still, arms crossed lightly, and just one big wing carefully drapped behind his back. He smiled lightly, trying to keep casual and confortable to the new people, avoiding staring at you too much, no matter how much he wanted to.

The harpy, that was standing by the dragon's side, had such a gentle smile on his face that you avoided looking at his face again after the first peak. Gentle eyes, gentle smile, gentle demeanour. His giant, featherly wings, were also carefully tucked behind his back, almost as if to make himself smaller. Tho, it didn't help your anxiety as you saw how his feet looked like... not feet, in fact, talons.

The werewolf, a weird guy with a mohawk for christ sake, didn't even try to hide it how much he was staring. Big eyes on top of you, tail wagging a bit too fast behind him as his wolf ears perked up and moved as the social worker talked. Still, his eyes were just on you, assessing your small and timid demeanour, how truly small a human could be, how defenseless you looked.

The wraith wasn't that different either. Staring at your face with a stoic and passive look, even tho a balaclava with some skull prints covered most of his face besides the eyes, that had some... shadowy thing around them. He looked bigger than the others, but you could still see he was sligthly shorter than the Dragon, he was just buffer, and was also staring directly at you. He almost forgot how pathetic humans could be.

All of them were caught a little of guard, actually.

You were small, already small for a human, but for hybrids? Almost like a little kid. Humans rarely build much muscle throughout their teens too, so you looked like a skinny little thing, differently from how other races' kids worked. You looked like a small, young child, but even their little kids had some kind of protection. Sharp teeths, or shap claws, or sharp talons, or any kind of ability that could defend themselves.

You had nothing of the sort. You didn't have any nails, basically, short as they were in a small and delicate little hand. Feet tucked safely inside your round little sneakers, feet that, of course, wouldn't have any talons, and were delicate enough to have to stay protected by shoes. Your teeth were round and flat, looked so small too, just like your short tongue. You were soft, all soft and small and delicate. Just like a human is compared to hybrids.

Johnny had to control himself not to coo at the sight as you gently licked your uper lip and quietly fidget in place, slightly behind the big bear hybrid that was your social worker. They had a lot of kids, and he was there since all of them were a baby, but since they were all hybrids, seeing a small little thing like you, unprotected and without any kind of abilities... it made something stirr inside of him.

All of the others were in the same boat, to be fair. Parental instincts going into high overdrive just by looking at you. John was just trying his best to pretend he wasn't that effected since he still needed to pay attention to the social worker, and Kyle was making a good job of discreetly nudging Johnny and Simon so they could stop staring so hard at you.

"So, if any trouble arises, you can always call me. Even if it's just questions, anything you might be worried about, i'll help you out. Is that okay?"

"Perfectly fine, ma'am." The dragon immediatly answers, smiling neutrally as he nods.

"Yeah, this isn't our first time doing this." The harpy jokes slightly, charming smile on his face as he makes your social worker laugh a little bit with him.

"I know it isn't, boys, but it is your first time taking care of a human." She points out, a small smile on her face despite the serious tone. "They are not the same as hybrids, you know that."

"Of course. We're going to be very careful with them, don't worry." The dragon immediatly goes to sooth her worries, nodding easily.

"As i hope. Please, call me if you need anything! And, good luck, boys!"

Now, it's just you and your four new foster parents.

Part 2

[steriotypicaloutlaw]

Simon who's never once growled at Johnny. He's growled at other people, but never Johnny. Johnny insists it's because he's his favorite, and Simon continues to deny it.

And then they get together.

They're cuddling in one of their beds, Simon laying on Johnny with his head on his stomach while Johnny scrolls on his phone. He gets a text from Price saying that they need to come see him for one reason or another. Johnny tells Simon, and that's when it happens. He growls at him for the first time ever. They both freeze, Simon's eyes shooting open in surprise, unable to believe he just did that.

J- Did ye just..?

S- Shut up.

J- Did ye *growl* at me?

S- I did no such thing.

J- Did too! Ye callin me a liar??

S- Did. Not.

J- Hang on... Did ye growl at me because I said we have tae stop cuddlin n go see Price..?

S- *growls again, but covers it with a cough*

J- Oh my god ye did! Si, ye big softie! First time ye growl at me n it's cause I deny ye cuddles... *shakes his head* I knew I was yer favorite.

S- Keep it up, n my new favorite will be Garrick..

J- Nuh Uh!

S- Watch me.

They continue the playful banter until they get to Price's office. Johnny 100% tells Gaz that Simon growled at him.

[notspiders]

Oh, Honey! (Bumblebee! Reader x Monster! 141)

General Warnings: Mostly fluff. Reader is female and is described as rather small and chubby. Reader is clumsy. Reader has a very large family. Characters may act out of character. Poor grammar is likely. Cussing. Part 1??? Note: Monster! 141 belongs to @bluegiragi

~~~~

Price watches you through the window.

Truthfully, he isn't sure how he and his team ended up here. One day they were being chased by a bloody team of zombies/cannon fodder, the next- he's laying on this extremely cozy bed (although it is a bit small) with his wounds nicely patched. Soap has gone hunting with the other women. Ghost is satisfied that they're all safe in this... rather massive cottage and has been snoring away in the next room for the past hour. Gaz has told him that he's going to just fly around and keep an eye out- just in case if the enemies somehow find themselves through the dense woods and into this clearing.

They really were lucky, Price thinks. According to you, the woods were a force themselves. Navigating through it, especially at night, is practically impossible. Compasses don't work. There's no signal and, of course, any type of aircraft just fail here. The woods are miles long and unless you packed enough supplies- it's suicide to dive back in and try to find your way out. It's just that sometimes the woods can help you, and sometimes the woods just gives you Mother Nature's middle finger and kills you. So there's that.

Naturally, the team was suspicious.

1) The explanation made no sense. 2) They were just outnumbered by a ton of enemies and to stumble upon this welcoming lot is... well, it's too good to be true, yeah? 3) You and your family are just way too happy. 3.1) There are no guys in your family. Your mother stated that men generally just wandered in, the family would treat them, and then they go away by themselves after a few nights. 3.2) Honestly, all of you look the same. Maybe there's like, a difference in hairstyles, body types, and obvious age gaps between the women here and there, but Jesus… Gaz has already made the mistake of confusing you, your cousins, your many sisters, and other random girls multiple times last night. 3.3) Scratch out the 'massive cottage' you guys claimed it to be. It's a mansion. Your 'family' is very large. There are many aunts, other women, cousins, other girls that were adopt into the family- Just no men. All living under the same roof and might as well be an army itself with how efficient you all did your tasks.

That said, it's very rude to point guns at innocent, clueless civilians. You, an adorably chubby, little bumblebee-hybrid (identifiable by the two rather pathetic buzzing wings behind your back), opened the door to them last night and stared blankly at their guns before cheerily ushering them in without freaking your head out. Next thing they knew, they got some quality homecooked meals cooked and served before them, plenty of drink (the honey mead everyone shared is excellent), proper treatment with their wounds (with... herbs), and warm beds. Ghost had stayed up the whole night and snooped around (just in case) but reported nothing interesting except for a few old hunting rifles and some overdue library books. Yes, each girl did carry a tiny foraging knife, but he's pretty certain they could still punt them like footballs ten at a time.

Morning comes- the team properly introduce themselves without being too specific of their occupation. There was a great deal of oohing and aahing as Price unfolded his one wing. His smoke did cause one girl to faint and her mother quickly asked for Price to... stop. He did his best and has, for now, stopped smoking his cigar. Everyone just steered clear from Ghost. Many children were petting Soap's head and playing with his fluffy tail, and others were stroking Gaz's wings.

Despite all the attention, Price's gaze is always on you. Maybe it was because of the fact that he's seen you first. You were just the cutest out of all of them. He wanted to whisk you away just to squish every soft part of your body and have you cuddled up beside him in his nest back home.

He's sorely disappointed to be told that he needs to return to bed so that his wounds can heal faster. No matter. The window gives him a very nice view of the clearing outside. Some girls are tending to the farm. Others are beekeeping. Plenty have gone to the outskirts of the forest to forage or hunt. Soap has offered to go out with the girls and they gladly accepted his help. (Tomorrow, he'll get off of this bed and join everyone too.)

Right now, you're picking the berries in your garden. It's amusing to watch you. Sometimes you bend over to pluck a few pretty flowers too- he's gotten a very nice view of your plump arse here and there. He's watched you buzz your small wings to just barely get a foot in the air and pluck an apple off the tree. Oh, how he wished to simply go out to lift you up himself... Your weight would be nothing to him.

From his observations, he's smartly deduced: Your body is round. Your little wings aren't designed for distance.

He loves the way you'd burrow your nose into any flower. Sometimes you remind him of Johnny's eagerness by the way you'd get a bit too enthusiastic and faceplant into the bed of flowers to take in the scent.

Price watches you get up, bump into your cousin (or is it sister? Or is this another girl? He couldn't be arsed), and the two of you collectively squeaked and apologized at the same time. Adorable. Fascinating. Beautiful. He hasn't felt this way ever since the time he xaight the glimpse of the shiny Excalibur in that stupid rock.

The lunch horn has been blown. He's been told that today's meal would be freshly baked bread and creamy chicken with wild rice soup. There’ll be tea and coffee for the drinks.

Price wishes his lunch would just be you.

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; torn by their obsession, the pack crumbles—now feral shadows of themselves. ghost, spiraling into hunger and rage, unleashes his fury.

⚠️ warnings; obsessive behaviour, unhealthy coping mechanisms, violence (sybil gets hurt!), blood and gore

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The Rose District was a place of shadows—where the dimly lit streets bled into the underworld, where the stench of decay lingered in the air, and whispers of trouble hid behind every corner. Ghost had never liked coming here, but tonight, he had a purpose.

You had been raving about some rare herb for the past few days, an ingredient you couldn’t find anywhere else. Ghost, seemingly indifferent to your ramblings, had made a mental note to find it for you.

He moved with silent efficiency, his half-wraith nature allowing him to blend easily into the darkness. His eyes scanned the corners for any signs of the itinerant vendor he knew to hang around the area. The herb was supposed to be rare—dangerously so—but he couldn’t bring himself to care beyond getting it and making you happy.

That was, until he heard a soft voice, muffled and frightened, cutting through the usual hum of the Rose District. It wasn’t the sound itself that drew him—plenty of people got into trouble here—but there was something in the air, a pull.

He stepped out of the shadows, his eyes narrowing as he saw the scene unfold a few feet away. A young woman—her honey-brown hair gleaming faintly in the dim light—stood cornered by a group of rough-looking men. They smirked, closing in, their intentions clear and unkind.

Ghost could have turned away. He didn’t know her, and getting involved in these kinds of situations wasn’t exactly his style. But something in him shifted, a tug in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake. He sighed, his usual apathy mixing with a sense of obligation he couldn’t place, and stepped forward.

“Leave her,” he said, his voice low, barely a whisper, but it carried an unmistakable weight. The men froze, eyes flicking up toward him. They were the type to recognize danger when it appeared, and Ghost—his towering frame half-hidden by his hood—was clearly not a figure to be trifled with.

One of the men sneered but backed off, motioning for the others to follow suit. “Not worth it,” he muttered under his breath, casting one last leer at the girl before disappearing into the shadows.

Ghost watched them retreat, then turned to the girl. She was trembling slightly, her brown eyes wide with fear and gratitude. This was routine for him, helping folk when he had to, stepping in only when necessary. He was about to turn and leave, to forget this ever happened, when she spoke.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft, vulnerable.

Something about it made him pause, just for a moment.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice rough, more out of habit than genuine concern.

She shook her head, a slight smile forming on her lips, but before she could respond, her hand brushed his arm.

It was nothing—just a fleeting touch, accidental. But in that instant, something shifted. Ghost pulled back slightly, confused by the sudden wave of emotion crashing over him. It was subtle, at first, just a faint whisper in the back of his mind, but the longer he looked at her, the louder it became.

He tried to shake it off, tried to remember why he had come to the Rose District in the first place—there was something he needed to find, something important.

A strange sensation crawled up his spine, sinking deep into his mind. He felt… tethered, as if something in him latched onto her presence, a root slowly winding its way into his thoughts, making her impossible to ignore. His apathy slipped away, replaced by a growing need to stay close, to keep her safe, to protect.

He found himself stepping closer instead of retreating, his usual detached composure slipping as he studied her. She didn’t seem aware of the effect she was having, of the slow, insidious way she was beginning to unravel everything inside him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice a little softer than before. The words felt automatic, like he was trying to regain control, but his mind was already clouded.

“I got lost,” she said, her eyes darting nervously toward the dark streets surrounding them. “I didn’t mean to—thank you, again. I’m Leah by the way.”

Ghost’s thoughts were hazy now, unfocused, as he repeated her name over and over again in his mind.

“We should go,” he muttered, gesturing for her to follow him. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t understand why he felt this way, but he couldn’t leave her alone now. Not when the pull was so strong.

By the time they reached the edge of the district, the thought of the herb he was supposed to find for you had completely faded from his mind. All that mattered was Leah—and keeping her near.

. . .

Plates sat piled in the sink, crusted and acrid with the remnants of old meals. Dust had settled over every surface, thick and undisturbed. The smell of neglect filled every corner, the windows streaked with grime, letting in only the barest slivers of weak, muted light.

The pack's home lay in shambles, reflecting the twisted obsession that had taken root in their minds. Every room told the same story—untouched and uncared and ignored like everything else that wasn’t Leah.

John’s instincts as a hunter—the sharpness, the clarity of purpose—had dulled, eroded by worry and exhaustion. He barely left the house, even though he should’ve been out there, doing what he did best, leading them. His guns, his gear, lay untouched, gathering dust in the corner. The man who had always been their steady hand, their anchor in the storm, was unravelling, his focus split between trying to hold the pack together and his concern for the woman who had somehow become the centre of all their lives.

Gaz rarely touched his books now, his once-meticulous study routine had been discarded, left to gather dust along with the shelves sagging under the weight of broken trinkets and forgotten potions. The thought of casting a spell, of focusing on anything outside of Leah, seemed almost impossible now.

Soap, once the energetic heart of their pack, had become consumed by his inner beast. His werewolf side, once held in check by a fierce loyalty and steady self-control, had slipped its leash. The wildness in him had grown more pronounced, his pacing erratic, his growls more frequent. He snapped at the others, a low, rumbling threat in his throat whenever they got too close. His restlessness filled the air, his anxious energy like static that crackled between them all.

And then there was Ghost. Of them all, he was the worst.

He had stopped taking the tonics you prepared especially for him—those essential mixtures that kept his half-wraith nature in check. Without them, the feral part of him had completely taken over, spiralling out of control. His skin had taken on a pale, deathly hue, his eyes burning red with the hunger that gnawed at him from within.

Things eventually did break apart.

The air in the house was thick with tension as the four of them gathered around in the dim light of the living room, a fire crackling in the hearth but offering no warmth.

Leah, despite having her own space above Laswell’s bar, had made herself at home in their place. It seemed so natural at first, like she belonged there among them. For a while, she stood out in the chaos, pristine and pretty amid the disarray.

But then, a sudden illness settled over her.

She had stopped eating days ago, and with every shallow breath she took, each spiralled deeper into their own madness.

The tension was unbearable, each day blending into the next, an endless cycle of sleepless nights and anxious pacing. They had stopped caring for themselves and each other. Fights broke out over nothing, their frustrations boiling over with every glance, every word.

The house that had once been a home was no longer a sanctuary. It was a reflection of the decay in their hearts, a hollow shell of what it had once been, crumbling under the strain of their obsession love.

“She needs more than we can give her,” Gaz said quietly, his voice laced with frustration. He rubbed his temples, as if trying to ward off the pounding headache that had settled on his temple for days. “I’ve tried every spell I know. None of it’s working.”

“Spells?” Johnny scoffed, his pacing agitated. “Spells aren’t what’s gonna fix her. We need to get her out of here, take her to someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“And who, exactly, is that, Soap?” Price shot back, his voice rising. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his face shadowed with exhaustion. “You think there’s someone out there who can handle this? Someone we can trust with Leah?”

Soap growled low in his throat, his enlarged nails flexing at his sides. “Better than sitting here, watching her waste away while you all argue over nothing.”

“We don’t know even what’s wrong with her!” Gaz snapped, losing his temper.

“And sitting here debating it is helping how?” Soap shot back, his eyes flashing in the low light. “We’ve been going around in circles for days. She’s getting worse, and all we do is talk, talk, talk!”

Price stepped forward, his face dark with anger. “We can’t just run off blindly. You think you’ll make it two blocks without something worse happening? The moment we leave this house—”

“This house is a tomb!” Soap snarled, his voice cracking. “She’s dying in there, and you want to sit here, playing it safe? You’re the one losing it, Price. You’ve lost your edge. You’re not thinking straight.”

Price moved so quickly that Johnny barely had time to react. They were face to face in an instant, both of them bristling with raw anger, their tempers flaring. “You want to say that again?” Price growled, the hunter in him itching to lash out.

Gaz stood up abruptly, pushing them apart with a frustrated grunt. “Enough! This isn’t helping anyone, least of all Leah.” He turned to Ghost, who had been eerily silent throughout the argument. “Ghost, you’ve barely said a word. What do you think?”

Ghost, standing in the corner, his form barely visible in the shadows, seemed almost detached from the scene. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, flicked to Gaz, but there was no recognition there, only a raw, feral hunger. He hadn’t taken his tonic in days, and it showed—the half-wraith within him was clawing its way to the surface, gnawing at the last vestiges of control he had left.

“We’re wasting time,” Ghost finally muttered, his voice guttural, barely human. His muscles twitched with unspent energy, his body wound tight as if ready to explode. “She’s dying. And we’re doing nothing.”

“We know that,” Gaz said softly, trying to reach him. “But we can’t just—”

Ghost’s eyes flickered, a dark intensity flashing across his face. “Then stop talking. Do something. Or get out of my way.”

Before anyone could react, Ghost was gone. He moved with inhuman speed, disappearing through the door in a blur of shadow and cold air. They barely had time to process it before the chill of his absence settled into the room.

Price cursed under his breath, turning back to the others. “Damn it, he’s gone feral.”

Soap’s pacing resumed, even more agitated now. “We can’t keep him locked up forever. He was bound to snap.”

“And now what?” Gaz asked, his voice hoarse with worry.

But despite the renewed sense of urgency, the argument had changed nothing. Leah still lay feverish in the other room, her condition worsening by the hour. And with Ghost gone, it felt as if the last thread holding them together had finally snapped.

And outside, in the night, Ghost stalked the streets, driven by an insatiable thirst, slipping deeper into the feral haze that consumed him. The city, bathed in the cool autumn moonlight, was ripe for hunting.

. . .

That cool evening you strolled through the dim streets with Sybil at your side. It was a rare moment of quiet, a stolen breath of normalcy after weeks of carefully orchestrating your life away from the pack.

No contact, no messages, no nothing. You were trying to move on, and of course failing miserably.

You tugged your cloak tighter around your shoulders when something suddenly felt… wrong. An icy chill washed over you, setting your nerves on edge, like a storm creeping in from the horizon.

Then you saw him.

Ghost.

His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were bloodshot, wide with hunger, glowing faintly in the dark like a feral animal.

Then you noticed the blood. Fresh streaks ran down his arms and neck, his clothes stained and torn, his skin smeared with it. Clearly not his own. He had already hurt someone. Maybe worse.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Simon?” you called his name softly.

He didn’t answer. He just stared. Unblinking. And then, with terrifying speed, he lunged.

Panic surged through you, and without thinking, you ran—your only thought was to get back to the shop. Trusting wholly that Sybil was by your side, you sprinted through the streets, your breath coming in frantic bursts, the pounding of his feet behind you growing louder, faster.

You barely made it through the door, slamming it shut and locking it just in time. But there was no time to catch your breath. Ghost was right behind you, slamming into the door with such force that it cracked. Your heart was racing in your chest as the door gave way under the weight of his attack, splintering open.

He barged in, and the destruction began.

He tore through the shop like a whirlwind, knocking over everything in his path in his blind attempt to catch you. Shelves collapsed under his weight, glass bottles shattered, herbs spilled across the floor, the once-familiar scents mixing with the pungent stench of blood and sweat.

“Stop!” you screamed, but it was useless. He couldn’t hear you. Couldn’t stop.

He pounced at you again, and Sybil, ever fearless and faithful, intercepted him. She sank her teeth into his leg, snarling fiercely, and for a moment, it slowed him down. He roared in pain, staggering, his bloodshot eyes narrowing in fury. But with one hard swipe of his hand, he sent her flying across the room. She hit the wall with a pained whine, her body crumpling to the floor.

“Sybil!” you wailed, heart splintering at the sight of her.

He stumbled on his injured leg, collapsing like a rag doll. But he wasn’t done.

Before you could react, his hand shot out and latched onto your ankle, dragging you down with terrifying strength. You hit the floor hard, pain shooting up your leg as he pulled you toward him, his grip crushing, his nails digging into your skin, drawing blood.

You cried in pain, instinctively twisting your body and kicking him—hard and square in the jaw. The impact was brutal, and his head snapped back with a sickening crack. For a moment, his grip slackened, and you scrambled to your feet, gasping for breath.

But it still wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

You limped towards the cauldron over the hearth, the brew still bubbling inside, before latching fiercely into it and toppling it towards him. The boiling liquid splashed all across the floor and against Ghost. His howl of pain ripped through the air as steam rose as his skin sizzled and burned, blistering down to the bone where the unfinished position had hit him.

You were barely holding on as you manoeuvre yourself around him and the torrid concoction, your body trembling as you picked up Sybil and darted towards the stair, desperate to get away. Every step was agony, your ankle throbbing from where he’d grabbed you.

You managed to slam the door to your apartment shut, locking it with shaking hands, but it felt so fragile. Too fragile. The sounds of Ghost’s growls echoed below, followed by the scraping of claws on wood.

He was coming.

You fumbled for your phone, hands shaking uncontrollably as you dialled Laswell’s number. The line rang and rang, but there was no answer. Your heart sank, panic rising again. You tried over and over, but no response came.

The door shuddered as he reached it, his nails scratching and clawing at the wood, a relentless assault that made your heart pound painfully in your chest. You clutched Sybil tightly in your arms, her body trembling against yours. She was hurt, but alive. You pressed your face into her fur, tears streaming down your cheeks as the scratching continued, a reminder that he wasn’t going to stop. Not until he had you.

The weight of it all—Ghost’s betrayal, the destruction of your shop, Sybil—threatened to suffocate you.

All you could do was wait. Wait for the sun to rise, for the light to finally push back the nightmare.

But deep down, you feared that by then, it might be too late.

banner credit

[diejager]

The writing where reader died, what happens if they were revived as a wraith like Ghost? There's probs going to have a lot of fluff and a small angst here and there. But I mostly wanna read your writings!! It's cus' I can't get enough, and kept rereading it all the time

Cw: pain, death, turning, cannibalism, implied torture, implied blood and gore, angst, fluff, hunger, tell me if I missed any. We’re going to forget how you previously died, cuz @bluegiragi gave us more info about wraiths and I just love where the comic is going.

What a cruel joke, irony hitting him in the face the same way his abrupt shift hurt him, an apathetic slap to the face that left him bloody and in shock the way he left Roba on his dying breath. Simon didn’t know what was crueler, the knowledge that you were tortured and buried alive, left to die alone for the sins of his own making and the wrath of another, or that you were left to die a slow and excruciating death after being beaten half to death, expected to lose your resolve solely on the fact that you were a medic, and turned into the monster he was.

Neither your captor nor death had been merciful, much less the reaper, a collector of wandering souls and lost ghosts, waiting their turn to cross the river with a small token for the afterlife. Be it Hermes, the messenger and the carrier of souls, Thanatos the reaper and collector, Anubis - or Inpu, however people called him - the guide, Ankou the shadow, Sgàthach the warrior, or Freyja and Fólkvangr; you weren’t granted the soft embrace of a calm death, but the cruel rejection of it, forced back into life and abandoned by sweet sleep.

He remembered his own, the painful pull of his back, the crazed smoke that filled his mind with a thirst for blood and revenge, the crack and ugly break of his bode, reshaping his body and organs dyed dark, dying and pained. He remembered well the pain of it like it was yesterday, having to crawl out of the shallow grave on his own and discover the carnage he left behind, stained in his and Price’s blood. He was reborn.

And so were you, crying and sobbing, your skin scarred beyond thinking and mind in shambles of broken faith and abandoned affection. He knew first hand how it felt, the burn and agony of it, the hunger and ache that plagued you like an undying pestilence, darker than the one that ripped through Europe in the fourteenth century and more devastating than the Justinian’s. He’d been too late, too slow to help you through the first ripple of shock and fear once you’d quenched your thirst, staunching it like you would a wound. He let you fester in your sorrow and hunger, left you without a guide or caretaker until you ravaged the area, leaving only blood and rubble in your devastation. 

But he’s here now, picking you up from the mess you found yourself in, a storm of smoke and thick black that you hid yourself in, to hide the monster you had become. He might not be proud of who he’s become - much like you - but he grew into it, lived his life as one, and he would be here to help you through the process of it. Where he wished he had a helping hand, you would have his. He would help you with your hunger, the famine that grew the more you left it alone, filling your being with bodies he’d gather up for you to absorb. He would teach you how to control the smoke - the sinews of your being, the consistence of it forming your figure - and build from it, stopping yourself from phasing to and from it, staying as a physical manifestation of it rather than darkness itself. 

Where he felt lost and confused, alone and wishing for a swift end, you wouldn’t, he made sure to stay, to be the pillar of support for you whenever you crashed, his body covering yours to stop you from vanishing in a fit of tears. Where he spent time hating himself, demeaning the cannibalism he became, you wouldn’t, he’d rather send himself to hell than let you think you were the lowest of the low, a human eating another. And where he was cruel to himself when death had renounced him, you wouldn’t, he’d whisper the sweetest words, praises, compliments, affection and guidance, he would make sure you wouldn’t drown alone like he did years ago. He loved you too much to let that happen.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[teddypines]

Daddy's Home

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Summary: The 141, mostly Price, getting a warm welcome home from a long mission away. His dragon babies being adorable and Soap being a little possessive. Also Y/N being a good mom, because you are doing great.

Note: Just fluff in the monster au.

Art/picture is from Pinterest, credits go to whoever made it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N helped Amy out of the car before grabbing Jim from his carseat. She wasn’t scared that Amy would run off right now, since the toddler was holding onto her belt loops and couldn’t fly very far on her own. She was way too tired to do anything else but to hold onto Momma. Y/N smiled while strapping the hatchling to her chest in his papoose. Amy used to fit inside the papoose when she was still small, but now it was Jim’s. Once Jim was all settled and continuing his nap, Y/N closed the car door. “Want to be on Momma’s back, Sweetpea?” She asked Amy, receiving a small nod from the toddler. She helped Amy onto her back, making sure she was safe between her wings. 

With the children close to her Y/N grabbed the baby bag from the trunk and locked the car. They were going to pick up Daddy from a long mission. It had been a rough couple of months, especially with Price missing Jim’s hatching, but she filmed it for him and sent it to him so he wouldn’t miss it entirely. Amy was missing Daddy bedtime and just having him and her uncles around. With a small determent smile Y/N took the kids to the airfield on base. Hoping Nikolia took the 141 back home safely.

Y/N had to wait a little while in one of the hangars, of course being checked and double checked that it was actually okay for her and the children to be there. Getting a few odd looks as she sat there, Amy still holding onto her back. “Momma? Why are we up?” She asked in a sleepy voice. it actually made a few of the nearby soldiers melt at how cute the little dragon was. “We are picking up Daddy, Sweetpea. Bringing him home with us, and of course your uncles too. Their flight is just really early that’s why we are up early too.” Y/N explained to Amy, hoping her tired mind would understand what was going on for now. Amy nodded her head against Y/N’s back. “Otay.” 

<------------------------------------------------------------->

It’s been a long 3 months. Price hated it, even more because he missed the hatching of his son. He was glad Y/N filmed it for him, but he still felt upset about it. He missed his princess and his wife. Only he didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on what he was missing since the mission came first. He had to make sure his team was doing their jobs and that they got home safe after it all ended. They got pretty lucky with this mission, only Soap was hurt and that was mostly his own fault for not looking where he was going. There were minor injuries, but Ghost still fussed over Soap on the plane, giving him a small lecture about keeping his eyes open and to focus instead of yepping over com’s. 

Price just let it all happen around him as he talked to Gaz, telling the sergeant how much he longed for a hot shower and cuddles on the couch. Wanting to hear Amy’s voice, wanting to hold his son and to kiss Y/N. It was clear by the way Price moved his tail around the floor of the plane. Gaz understood the longing his captain felt, wanting to go back to his own loved ones. He was just as curious about seeing Price’s son as the man himself, wondering if the hatchling got his colors for his dad or his mom, or maybe a mix of both. Soap just wanted to see the hatchling and Y/N again, and have some time with Ghost. And Ghost just wanted to sleep.

“Landing in about 10 minutes, everyone.” Nikolia’s co-pilot announced to the 141, The four of them smiling at the news. They would be home soon with a welcome home party waiting for them on base. A small party, but a party nonetheless.

<------------------------------------------------------------->

“Miss? The plane is landing in about five minutes, would you like me to take you to the landing?” One of the soldiers around her asked with a kind smile on his face. Y/N nodded and stood up with a groan, Amy was fast asleep on her back, putting her full weight onto her Momma’s back. “Yes, I would like that, thank you.” Y/N answered. Quickly following after the soldier. She knew she had to wake Amy up soon or she would be upset that she didn’t get to greet her daddy. Jim wouldn’t mind either way, he was happy with whatever. 

Amy luckily woke up by herself from the loud noise of the plane. She was wide awake when she realized her Daddy was on that plane. “Momma, down! I want down!!” She demanded while struggling between Y/N’s wings. “Hold on a moment, Sweetpea, Momma is still walking.” Y/N answered only to be ignored by the toddler. Y/N sighed and quickly let Amy down. Needing to stop and kneel slightly, just to let the little one off safely. Amy flapped her wings in excitement as she ran a head to the landing plane. “Not too fast, Amy! We don’t want you to fall.” Y/N yelled after her. 

The soldier led the last bit of the way to the landing, the plane already landed. Now they just had to wait for the loading door to open. Amy, already jumping up in the air to fly towards daddy. “Daddy!” She yelled, just wanting her daddy back with her. 

It took a little while for the loading door to open, but there they were, the 141 safe and sound. Amy flew into Price’s arms, surprising him just a little. John quickly wrapped his arms around his little girl and kissed her head between her growing horns. “Hello, Pumpkin.” John greeted Amy. “I missed you so much.” He mumbled against her head “Missed you too, Daddy.” Amy answered. The others just chuckled and walked past the two dragons. Soap quickly going over to Y/N, the werewolf was more excited about seeing the hatchling and Y/N. 

“Sooooo, where is he?!” Soap asked, his tail wagging like crazy. “Well hello to you too, Johnny, yes i am doing great, thank you for asking.” Y/N responded as she carefully took Jim out of his papoose. “Jimmy, meet your uncle Johnny. He’s a werewolf and you’re gonna love cuddling with him.” She introduced the two. Johnny looking at the dragon hatchling in aw. “He looks so small.” Johnny carefully took Jim from Y/N. “Yeah, he’s just a little smaller than when Amy hatched.” Y/N answered, making sure Johnny was holding Jim the right way. Even when he had a lot of experience with holding Amy, Jim was just a bit more fussy about how people should hold him.

Simon slowly made his way to Johnny and Y/N, standing next to Y/N as he looked at Jim. “He does have a lot more hair than Amy did after hatching.” He commented after taking off his mask, not wanting to scare the hatchling. Knowing from experience that hatchlings didn’t like his Ghost mask. “Yeah, he has his Momma’s hair.” Y/N explained. 

John finally let Amy go once Kyle was like, ‘Okay enough, my time for hugs’. He looked over at the group a little further from the plane, he saw Y/N and just ran to her. Catching her off guard when he picked her up and kissed her. Holding her close as he spun her around. “Hello, Love.” He whispered to her. “Welcome home.” Y/N whispered back. She had wrapped her arms and wings around John, giving them a small moment alone. Putting his forehead and horns against hers. “I missed you.” Y/N whispered, a few tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked at her husband. “I missed you more, Love.” John answered between kissing her cheeks. Kissing her tears away. His one wing goes around Y/N’s wings.

“Do you want to see your son?” Y/N asked after a moment of silence. John nodded in answer before reluctantly letting Y/N go. She grabbed his hand and led him back to Johnny and Simon. “Johnny boy, can I have my son back?” She asked only to receive an almost death glare back from the werewolf. “Johnny, give the lass her son!” Simon ordered the werewolf, knowing he was already attached to the hatchling, just like when he first met Amy. Johnny whined before handing Jim back to Y/N. She moved Jim in John’s direction. “Meet your son, James Henry Price.” John looked at the hatchling in aw before grabbing him. Holding him close and just taking everything in. “He is beautiful, Love.” 

Amy ran towards her Momma and Daddy once she was out of Kyle’s arms. “Daddy’s home!!!” She cheered, continuing to run around the 141. Kyle joined the group shortly after. “She has a lot of energy doesn’t she?” John nodded his head, but kept his focus on his son. Jim let out a big yawn and spread his little wings a bit, they were still flimsy, but are slowly getting stronger. They were a pretty light blue. Getting the color from John's mother. “Owh What a handsome boy.” Kyle cooed over the hatchling. John smiled At his son and quickly kissed Y/N. “Thank you, love, thank you for this. For coming to get us.”

“Always John.” Y/N answered, happy that the boy’s were home safe.

[erindrinkstea]

Rising from the Ashes

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Monster AU!

Harpy Crow Gaz and Phoenix Reader

TW: Light Angst, Violence, Blood and Temporary Death.

Main Masterlist | CoD Masterlist

Description:

A routine mission turns deadly, leaving the 141 Task Force shattered by your loss. But as grief settles in, they notice something else settling in from the ashes.

Note: Talon is your codename.

"You broken, lovie?"

Soap's voice rung through your overstimulated sense of hearing but you understood him nonetheless. "I'm fine, Soap!" You assured the scot despite every being of you screaming that you were not fine.

Your left arm was broken, laying limp on your side as you now depended on your right to shoot. Your right eye was busted as well, limiting your vision on the field. Not only that but you could feel one of your bones not in place somewhere in your rib as it poked and prodded at your insides.

"Now go and tear those bastards down! I'll join Gaz in the sky." You smiled and Soap didn't buy that smile for a second but he had to go.

You grunted as you forced yourself to lift off into the sky, your wings straining from all the cuts it had.

"Hi, pretty boy." You chuckled, joining your lover's side in the air. Your eyes only scanning Kyle for a moment before your focus returned to the field. You raised your gun, raining hellfire to the hostiles beneath you.

"Aw, your wings." Gaz commented. You could hear the pout in his voice. "I swear- I'm going to spend a whole day grooming your wings back into proper condition."

You laughed at his declaration. "Only if you let me do the same to you, baby." You cooed.

"Less flirting, more fighting, lovebirds." You hear Price's voice cry out. Dragons and their very enhanced hearing- you swear.

"Copy, Captain." You grinned, returning to wrecking havoc on those unfortunate souls below.

"Look at my baby. One hell of a spitfire ain't they?" Gaz had a lovestruck look despite the ongoing bloodshed. "Get your arse in the game, birdbrain." Soap laughed, though more like howled.

"Y'know... We never really got to know what breed of harpy is Talon yeah?" Soap grunted as he quite literally tore on hostile in half.

"Huh, I never really asked." Gaz muttered to himself, just realizing. You'd think that 2 years into the relationship, you'd know by now. While it was known knowledge that the two of your were harpies, Gaz was specifically a crow breed while your breed remained unknown and undiscussed.

"AH- FUCK." You cursed in agony as one of the werewolf motherfuckers ripped a wing out your back. Price moment.

Eyes snapped to your form immediately. You curled up in the ground, clutching at your back in immense pain.

They couldn't even process what happened properly. The next thing they knew- your curled up form was picked up and your head was smashed into the ground.

It was quick. Should they be grateful at least that it was quick? Should they be fucking thankful that at least you won't have to live with the pain of a missing wing?!

The entire 141 Task Force was enraged, distressed and absolutely pissed. To touch one of them was a death sentence, signed and delivered to death herself.

Gaz was in pain. Everyone that was in his path met their end quickly as he rushed to your side. Nothing was more important than you. He felt pain like no other as he cradled your limp form.

Gone. You were gone. Just like that.

"My birdie?" He whimpered, calling out to you desperately. The feeling of grief choked him from the inside out. His wings spread out to curl around you, shielding you from the hell that the 141 unleashed on the bastards that touched you.

He gasped as your skin was fading into dust, your body crumbling into ash in his hold. He cried as he tried to salvage you, tried to hold you closer to keep you from leaving.

"What the fuck is happening?!"

"Don't go, baby. I'm here now. I'm here now, birdie."

"Please. God, please. At least let me keep their body, don't take them away from me even more."

The last part of you crumbled into ash and he curled his wings even more to keep you two in your own private space.

Cries of "I'm sorry." on repeat spilled from Gaz's lips. The hell outside of his private space went silent as the task force finally finished with dealing with the bastards that dared to lay their hand on you. That dared to end your life.

"I'm sorry, Garrick." Price offered his condolences.

"Shut up." Gaz didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to listen to anyone. All he needed now and all he needed ever was you. Just you.

It was silence. A shared mournful silence between the four men. The remaining four of the 141 task force.

"Chirp?"

A small fire came to life from the ashes. Gaz hissed as his fingers got burned a bit from the heat. From the dust, there was a small movement before a little chick's head popped out. "Chirp!"

Eyes that stared up at the harpy sargeant with the brightest glint of a thousand suns. "What the fuck is that?" Soap cursed as all men stared shocked. Gaz knew what or who that was, he was familiar with those pretty eyes. "Birdie?" He called out.

"Chiiiirp!" You responded, your tiny chick form cuddling up to your lover as he scooped you up in his hands.

"A fucking Phoenix." Price was the first to snap out of the stupor. His boisterous laughter infecting the other men as they joined him.

"Should've known my birdie would be special. A Phoenix, of course you are, you spitfire." Gaz chuckled, bringing you close to cradle you.

"My beloved Talon is more like a little toothpick now aren't you?" Gaz teased as you angrily chirped back at him. Nonetheless, you nuzzled closer into his touch.

Not minding the slight tremble in his hands. You cuddled close, comforting your lover while looking into his relieved but still terrified eyes.

"I'm never leaving your side again." Gaz promised. "I pity your arse then, Talon. Looks like you're stuck with Kyle for eternity." Soap joked and the harpy sargeant nudged playfully at the werewolf.

"Stop it, Soap. Let him have his moment." Ghost interrupted what would be a playfight between the two sargeants. The three men watched as Gaz cradled your small form close to him.

His eyes a bit slitted and wary, even towards his own allies. It was clear that the whole scenario set off Gaz's instincts. You wouldn't be leaving Gaz's sight after what just went down, that was for sure.

"Let's get you home and into our nest, yeah birdie? Let's get you safe and tucked in. I'll need to check your wings as well. It's good to see you still have a complete set after returning."

Ah, you just know that the two of you will spend hours grooming feathers.

[tw1nkee28]

The sillies,,, for @edenkyubiko and @sw11ft

Plus Eden's commission :33

[sw11ft]

The community is great and all but some of y’all are unhinged… 😅

Also shoutout to @pampanope for drawing my name in a cool way I’m gonna use it as a watermark more often now :D

[bluegiragi]

smokey.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 6)

It was getting colder, the days shorter, the nights longer... which meant, you were now stuck with John and Simon buying clothes.

You all ate relatively quickly before that, considering you barely munched in a small burger and fries before giving all the rest to Simon, and soon enough, you were all in a children's clothing store.

You insisted that you didn't really need many clothes, maybe just a jacket, since you didn't have one, and going out without a jacket in this temperature is pratically a death sentence for a human.

So, at first, you did agree to buying clothes, they did seem worried too, so you figured, why not?

But at this point, as you watched them get way more than you first imagined, you were starting to panick a bit.

"I-I really don't need that many, r-really...!"

"There's no way we are letting you out when it's getting close to snowing without proper winter clothing." John huffs slightly, his voice sounding rough this way. "I know how delicate humans are to the weather, you need gloves, thick socks, beanies, warm jackets, pantyhoses..." He lists casually, not even looking your direction as he goes through the toddler's section of the clothing store.

You could only feel yourself being gently bounced on Simon's arms as he tries to reason with you.

"We do have a few clothes from our kids' younger years. But it's not that many, and we don't have socks, or gloves, or beanies, this small anymore."

You frown a bit in nervousness, not sure about all this, but there's little you could do against the stubborness of a dragon.

"Okay, this should be enough." John smiles, taking the bag of clothing to the cash register.

You sigh a little, tiredly leaning against Simon. You got used to him carrying you around, considering he has been doing this for a few hours without tiring at all.

And you also got used to the stares people threw your way... and the coos and aww's too....

But at this point, you were tired. So freaking tired. You weren't one to usually go out, like, ever. So, here you were, drooping slightly against Simon, your breathing getting slower.

"I know, I know, we're going back after this." Simon murmured close to your ear, adjusting your position on his arms so you could lean more against his chest and shoulder, a heavy, giant hand rubbing against your small back.

"Mhm... why... why didn't... the others come too...?" You mumble softly, not managing to contain yout curiosity any longer as you watched John pay for the clothes a few feet away.

"Johnny and Kyle are making last minute adjustments to the house." Simon answers simply, even tho you clearly had a confused expression on your face now.

"Adjustments....?"

"Just some simple stuff. Do you remember how you had to use a car seat to get here due to your height? We got the car seat before, but we still had to do some repairs around the house to be a better fit to your size."

"T-That's... Ah... o-okay..." You nod quietly, not knowing what to say to that.

Tho, you were pretty curious to know what kind of adjustments they did around the house.

"Ready to go?" John asks as he comes back close to you.

"Yeah. The kid's tired." Simon nods easily, already starting to make his way back to the parking lot, John right behind him.

"Of course they are. Let's hurry home then."

After waking up, strapped to the car seat as you felt the car come to a stop, John gently unbuckled you and set your feet on the ground, pushing you softly so you could go into the direction of the entrance, where both Johnny and Kyle were already waiting for you.

"Wee lass, come 'ere!!" Johnny smiles excitedly, only to scoop you up from the ground as soon as you got close enough.

It seems he couldn't hold his instincts in any longer. But... that's okay, considering you were in Simon's arms just some time ago.

Johnny immediatly started to nuzzle into you, taking you inside the house as his tail wagged behind him easily.

"Do ya wanna play with me, pup?" He asks, soft, but excited at the same time.

"They're tired, Johnny." Simon says as goes inside, giving a kiss to Kyle as they pass by eachother, John coming right behind with the things they bought. "Put them to nap a lil'."

Johnny pouts a little, ears pressing down and tail stopping.

"I really wanted to play with the pup..." He almost whines, holding you closer to him.

He felt so damn warm...

"Tav, remember when we had the babies for the first time?" Kyle comments, a soft smile on his face. "Imagine it's like that once again. No playing yet."

"Aye, aye." He sighs, and you try to contain a blush at how they talked about you like you weren't even there. "Time to sleep, yeah, pup? Maybe a bit of cuddles?" The hand that wasn't holding you against him goes to your wrist as he gently pushed his hand under your sweater sleeve, frowning a bit as he felt that you were indeed a bit cold. "Yeah, cuddles, pup. Warm yah right up, yeah?"

He was murmuring softly like he was deep in his instincts, that damn babyish talk coming out once again as the werewolf walked easily all the way back to your room and went inside, closing the door behind him, not bothering to turn on the lights.

"Need warm clothes now, saw that John got you some, very good..." He mumbled like he wasn't even talking to you, affected by his protective instincts. "Gloves, and a wool beanie, wee pup... all bundled up, and warm... let's get warm, yeah? Let's lay down, here..."

And he took you straight to the middle of the room, where the nest carved into the ground was. He didn't even hesitate as he simply threw himself onto the soft blankets and pillows, laying against them confortably and immedaitly putting you against his warm side, tucked between his chest and arm, pulling a blanket to tuck you in gently.

You could barely process what was happening, but you let him, actually feeling... confortable. It was warm, he was warm, and the weird nest thing was definetly soft. And you were tired... so tired, you spend a long time out of the house...

It wasn't a surprise that you fell asleep quickly against him, swearing that you could hear some kind of weird noise and fell some kind of weird vibration by your side. Do werewolves purr?

Well, you could always search later. Right now, you were busy napping against the big and warm werewolf, who thrilled and cooed happily at you.

Part 5 / Part 7

[thetrexartist]

OK, imagine wraith!ghost in a mythical au. He knows he will outlive his loved ones. Soap knows this and is heartbroken but still continues to love him.

Even though werewolves are known to live a bit longer than humans, they aren't immortal. Ghost knows this, so he one day pulls over soap and pledges to watch over the MacTavish generations. And he has to say it again in front of the mactavish clan. Soap, I just can't believe it at first, but it melts him all the more.

In the future once everybody is gone, imagine great great grandchildren or nephews/nieces calling him great uncle ghostie.

Bro I am sobbing at this thought but it would be so fucking sweet.

BONUS

Maybe as a wraith, he is able to see soap, but as a ghost, he visits soaps, grave one day, and ghost!soap is just there. With all of the other 141 members. The emotional turmoil this would give - They could be ancient lovers bro I CANNNTTT

[guigz1-coldwar]

The Women of the Cold War

Happy International Women's Day!

4K: https://deviantart.com/guigz1/art/The-Women-of-the-Cold-War-1029395378…

[diejager]

I was wondering if we could get another story with wraith reader with the rest of the 141 and Horangi and Konig if that is okay?

Cw: cannibalism, blood and gore?, protective Simon, tell me if I missed any.

Feeding was an essential thing despite it being a difficult affair. The taste of warm and soft flesh, the tang and smell of iron-rich blood, and the savoury feeling of being full and satiated. Feeding was a bloody and violent thing, but a necessity that kept him alive. And now you, another of his kind, one rare and unaccounted for unlike other kinds. If hunger had been an issue for him for so long, he couldn’t fathom how you felt, one turned much younger than him and more frequently than him. 

One - he - could imagine the fright and panic, the anger and the sorrow, the dread and the crisis, just as he felt, if not more so for your seemingly younger - now that he had learned that wraiths, much like vampires, stop aging after being turned and forgotten by Death itself - appearance than him at his point of transformation. It was a difficult thing, but one he had help with, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to cry to, a hand to hold onto and a heart to seek comfort from. 

Even now, the annoying pang of hunger pulsed through him, the sudden lack of sustenance from the base had left him hungry and stewing with mounting irritation. So, Ghost couldn’t imagine how you felt, being starved from both the lack of meat and the lack of missions they were sent on. Be it a nagging headache, a painfully empty stomach or the same amount of irritation he felt at the simplest things.

But it seemed their streak of bad luck and hunger was over the moment they were deployed, stalking through an Albanian forest at night with or without NVGs, plotting an ambush on the enemies who’d called the cabin their temporary safehouse. Though it was a high stake mission, Kate and Price had figured to send you along with him and two others, one - as much as him - starving König and a concerned Gaz. 

Your interactions were limited to rare calls and signs, Gaz making quiet calls to relay information to you when your eyes weren’t enough to locate the danger or sharing signals between you three whenever the moment made it possible. And when Ghost had finally reached their so-called safehouse, it was a frenzy the second the first spill of blood, the sweet, sweet smell of blood flooding all three of you with a thick haze of hunger.

Ghost had watched König separate himself from him just as you had, melting away in a thick cloud of darkness. He watched - admired - you from the corner of his eyes, your dark mass rushing towards the feet of a few men, dissolving them from the feet up. Bodies consumed, muscles deconstructed, fat melted, mind killed. You ate and ate and ate, like a frenzied beast as starved as you were crazed. You were a marvel to look at, deathly and hauntingly beautiful, danger culminated in a single being.

Ghost will have to talk to you after this feast, his grumbling stomach calling him back to his body’s needs.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting