#wraith ghost

[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

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.

[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

[qbedience]

sorry for the intro to the video but i decided to pick some voiceclaims for some of my ocs and just had to share 🥺

[spookykittenwrites]

Pairing: Ghostsoap Rating: M Length: 10-20 mins Tags: AU - creatures and monsters, wraith ghost and werewolf soap, kissing, dry humping

My first podfic! Reading @whispermask's feeding on fever which is so, so lovely and was so much fun to read (seriously you use words in such a pretty way and it's so nice to say them out loud!)

[bluegiragi]

reward (part 3)

(full comic on patreon)

[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.

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 5)

You were never one to complain. Living in the foster system means accepting all kinds of shit that comes with being an orphan in a stranger's house.

You almost never received any presents. It was rare the times you did get something at your placements, but if you did, it was a hand me down. Like the thin blue jacket you came wearing, that was a present from a divorced mother who kids were already too big for the jacket. Or the white dress that a christian family gave to you so you could go to church with them 'dressed appropriately'.

Well, you couldn't complain about that one. The simple white dress is to this day your 'fanciest' piece of clothing.

You wouldn't say you were that much of a picky eater either, but you certainly didn't like all kinds of food... which is pratically torture in the system. You just learned to push all kinds of food down your throat quietly, and if it was truly too bad for you to manage? You would simply come up with a weak excuse and run away from the food.

Being any kind of picky eater in the system was torture. Even worse if you have allergies. You knew a boy at your last group home that was allergic to glutten and peanuts, and he was basically as thin as you were. He was still bigger, being a cat hybrid and all, but at least you knew you weren't the only one suffering at these houses.

So imagine your surprise when John, the big hybrid dragon, spend his whole morning gently coaxing you to go shopping with him and Simon, to get 'things you might need', and 'snacks you might like to eat', and even 'go grab lunch at the mall'.

At first, you were too nervous and anxious to say anything, mostly just staring back at him as you fidgeted quietly in place. It took Johnny joining the conversation excitedly, Kyle sending you stupid thumbs up quietly from the living room couch, and Simon picking up the keys to their car while looking at you expectantly for you to finally agree to go with them.

So here you were, walking between two giants of men at a big and loaded shopping center, nervously trying to keep your pace matched up to theirs as Simon made sure to keep a hand enveloped tightly around your much smaller hand.

Worse of all? A lot of people were looking your way. Big hybrids like Price and Ghost weren't unnusual, but the small little human holding their hand surely was. Not only human, but a human under the care of hybrids. You wanted to burry your head in a deep hole and never come out.

"Darlin'." John's deep and purred voice called your attention immediatly as you looked up at him quietly. "Don't try and wander off, understood?"

You nod quietly, slightly intimidated by his tone and serious face.

"Good baby." He purrs out, giant hand coming down on your head as he messes slightly with the small strands there. "Now, sweetness, let's buy you some things."

"I... I really d-don't need anything..." You murmur quietly, a bit anxious about them wasting money on you.

Both of them looked at you with those serious expressions for a few seconds, considering you. John smiled slightly as he compromised, lifting both hands up.

"Then let's look around, if we find something, then that's good." His laugh is deep, slow and rough. It's clear the smoke from his dragon side had some effect on his throat. That, and he probably smoked cigars and cigarettes too.

You just nodded quietly, not willing to go against his word, as you three kept walking around. That is, until Simon grunted, fixing the surgical mask on his face and looking down like he was thinking of something.

".......what...?" You murmur softly, confused.

"I think you're breaking Simon's back, hun." John laughed deeply, shaking his head slightly.

"W-Wha...?"

"You're too small for me to hold your hand confortably." The wraith deadpanned. "Stay still."

"W-Wait, wh- Aah!"

You were stunned for a second, as you were suddenly held high up. Big, thick arms held your legs easily, making you sit in the crook of his elbow, as he held you to his side like a toddler. It was enough to shut your little squeak of surprise as you were just in shock now.

"Simon, I told you to be gentle." The dragon smirked slightly, tho his voice a bit more rough than usual as it seems to always have an edge of a growl on it.

"I am." The wraith grunted quietly as he started to walk once again. "This is the best option for the both of us. Right, luv?"

"A-Ah... I..." You were too flustered to properly say anything, but you still nodded your head slowly, trying to settle on his arms.

"See?" Simon smirked under his mask to John, as the older man simply rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"Say, darlin'. Do you like ice cream?" John offers out of nowhere as he smiles confidently, ignoring Simon's remark.

".....some flavors, yeah..." You mumble back, a little arm holding on Simon's shoulder as you looked around quietly, trying to ignore other people's looks.

"What's your favorite?" He asks easily, taking a different path as Simon followed close behind.

"...Vanilla is good..."

"Good, then vanilla is what you're gonna get." He answers simply, with the confidance you don't think you have ever seen on anyone else.

"...it's... it's really okay if you don't..." You try quietly, only to see him shaking his head slowly, looking over his shoulder that didn't have the wing, expression serious and stoic as his rough voice murmured.

"I provide to my hoard, little hatchling. It would do you good to remember that."

Those words, spoken in that way, was enough to immediatly shut you up, your body instinctively curling on itself (more on Simon really) at the sigh of an intimidating predator.

Tho, Simon didn't let you suffer in your fear and anxiety, as his big and wide palm settled on your small back, pulling you closer to his chest for confort as he was speaking, slow and quiet, even if his voice always sounded rough.

"Price's not mad, fledgling. Stay calm. He's not mad, much less mad at you. He's just a protective bastard." He snorted quietly, bouncing you a little on his arms to help you calm down.

"Watch it, Riley." Price mumbled, tho he had a small smile on his face as he slowed his pace a bit to stand by you and Simon, big hand now being placed on your upper back, which was a slightly shock due to how warm it felt. Simon was wearing gloves, but he felt much cooler. "And i'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you."

He was also doing that subtle baby voice, keeping his voice much quieter as he leaned in and gently nudged half of his face against yours, making you freeze a bit at the action. It really felt like a big animal was trying to be apologetic.

"If Kyle was here, you would've gotten an ear full." Simon commented simply as he watched, amused.

"Thank god he isn't." John huffs a little, stepping back. "I don't need mother hen scolding me for this. I didn't even growl." And now, he was leaning slightly closer again, that quiet and gentle tone coming back as he looked at your small, nervous face. "I'm not that scary, am I, darlin'?"

"'Course you are, for a small little thing like this?" Simon laughs roughly, shaking his head, his grip in you getting firmer.

"I-I'm not scared..." You mumble quietly, playing a bit with the sweater that they lent it to you yesterday, not making eye contact with either of them.

"Of course not, darlin'..." John cooed deeply, tho his tone made it clear that he wasn't taking your answer seriously, rubbing your head gently. "Come on."

In the end, they got you a vanilla ice cream on a big cone, that you were licking it quietly. They were speaking with eachother as they planned what next things to buy, and what stores to visit. You weren't paying that much attention, just focusing on your vanilla ice cream as Simon carreid you around.

You got used to him carrying you, and now, you were much more confortable on his hold.

"Baby, look here." John's voice once again called your attention as you lifted your head from the ice cream to stare at him. "What do you think of this blanket?"

You tilted your head to the side, slightly confused, but you reached for the soft blanket he brough close, feeling the fuzzy, confortable texture.

"It's... good." You mumble, unsure about what to say.

"Just good?" John asked, considering your answer, looking between you and the blanket, before putting it back in place. "Let's see others, then."

You were not entirely sure what John was trying to do. Maybe buy you a blanket, but... you already had lots of blankets on the bed they gave you. And on the weird nest on the middle too.

Still, you got distracted once again with the ice cream in your tiny hold, going back to licking it. You were already getting a bit full... you were never the biggest fan of ice cream, you got tired of it fast. So, as you looked quietly to the side to stare at Simon's face, you gently brought the cone close to his face, making him look at you passively.

"Do you want a bit...?" You mumble softly, only to see the man pushing his surgical mask to his chin and taking a big bite out of the ice cream you were holding in front of his face.

You managed to see his scary, pointy and large teeth, the slightly too long and sharp tongue at the action, making you instinctively shudder on his hold. It was natural, a human watching their predator showing their dangerous teeth like it was nothing. Still, you were thankful for his help.

"Oww...." You turned a bit alarmed to John's direction as you heard the dragon's deep croon, his eyes getting half-lidded and pupils dilating. "Always soft for the hatchlings, aren't you, Simon?"

Simon just hums, swallowing the ice cream and licking his lips simply, keeping his serious expression.

"I'm used to being the kids' trashcan." He... joked? You were not sure, since he kept his face and tone so stony, but by John's laugh, you deduced it was a joke.

"Here, hun, how does this blanket feel?" John asks as he brings another fuzzy blanket close, light blue and full of colorful little dots.

"Good... confortable..." You mumble, feeling the material.

"Hmmm...." John considered once again, humming as he squinted his eyes.

"John, you know humans don't nest. She's not going to have hard instincts towards blankets." Simon comments, almost bored as te took another bite of your almost finished ice cream.

"I know, it's just... different to see it." John nods slightly before shrugging. "Do you like this color, little one?"

You just nod quietly, now understanding a bit more what was going on. Indeed, you shouldn't expect nesting instincts from a human, but even you could tell when the blanket was confortable and made from a good material.

"Come on, doll. Let's see what else we can find for you before having lunch." John mumbles softly, leaning close once again, quickly kissing Simon on the lips, who kissed back easily, and then kissing you on the forehead gently.

They were... very nice. Even if a bit scary.

[starry-bi-sky]

Jack Fenton was a round kid. Jack Fenton was a round kid with big blue eyes and a pudgy face and a brilliant smile, with a big laugh loud enough to rattle your bones. He was a stocky kid, big and tough and strong as an ox. He was the champion wrestler at his high school. Then he grew up, and he's still big, and broad, with a square jaw and straight black hair. He can lift both of his kids with one arm and lift his wife with the other. His smile remains brilliant, he has eyes like the open ocean.

Maddie Fenton was a willowy kid. Maddie Fenton was a willowy kid with bright eyes and a round face and a mind sharp like a scalpel, with a smile that could convince anyone to do anything. She was a tough kid, thin and lanky and strong like bamboo. She was top of her martial arts class by the time she was twelve. Then she grew up, and she's still brilliant, and she's no longer willowy, with a pointed chin and eyes that look purple in the dim light.

Jazz Fenton was a thin kid. Jazz Fenton was a thin kid with bright teal eyes and a soft face and a mind like a rabbit's, with a silk-hiding-steel voice that could sink into your bones. She was a bright kid, social and bookish and brilliant. She jumps from interest to interest like they're lilypads, soaking in everything that catches her eyes. She wants to be a doctor, then a therapist, then a teacher. She's growing up.

Danny is.

Danny is...

Danny is a small kid. Danny is a small kid with pale skin and a chubby face and eyes that are neither round nor blue like the open ocean, with a quiet voice that sounds like the wind whistling through the trees. He is a quiet kid, shy and skittish and hiding. He has eyes like a lamb; big and sweet, and they will swallow you whole. His eyes are blue like a glacier, and they see right through you, curtained with dark, wet lashes. His hair is black like an oil spill, black like raven feathers.

Danny is a watchful kid. Staring and watching, silent. Observing. He stares at the stars, as his parents work, at the neighbor across the street as he tinkers with his motorcycle in his driveway. In a house full of suns, there must be a shadow. In a city covered in sunlight, the dark always goes somewhere.

Danny is an outcast kid. He is an ink blot on a white page. He is a dark storm cloud over an open field. The looming shadow behind the trees. He is young and sweet and scary, with gentle fingers that are slender and long. His laugh is neither big nor does it rattle your bones, and his mind is not quick like a rabbit's nor is it sharp like a scalpel. His mind is radiant, the nail catching on the loose thread and unraveling it all in meticulous precision, and his laugh is soft and warm and it seeps into the soil like rainwater, soothing the ground.

Danny is a kid with a face like a stone statue; sharp and cold and pale, smooth and tall and cutting. With hair black like the night, that wisps and curls behind his ears and at his neck, swooping in his swallow eyes. He squints in the light as if his eyes will never get used to it, if you listen to his heart you can hear it bleeding.

Amity Park is a city with a blue sky and white clouds and a bright sun, a postcard come to life. Pretty and safe, full of normal people and normal jobs and normal parks and normal schools and normal children. In a world of heroes and powers and magic and aliens, Amity Park is a place that your eyes slide right over.

Amity Park is not made for a child like Danny Fenton, and Danny Fenton is not made for a place like Amity Park.

[caleod]

18-10-24 "Drive"

[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.

[wraithdance]

Simon/Price who are so accustomed to being the authority in a crisis that when they witness a major fire they immediately offer assistance to get others out. They tell the pretty, scowling fire fighter calling the shots that they’re military and can help but she tells them none to politely to get back with the other civilians and let her do her job.

Simon/Price who are startled pissed at the thought of being referred to as civilians. Outraged even! they’re going to get her number and under them by the end of the week.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 258

Halfas are like selkies. Or more like they’re similar to many animal spouses of myths and legends, trapped in (mostly) human forms should they lose their cloak. 

That at least, Vlad warned Danny about within the first time of realizing what the other was. It’s a line neither will cross- not even the timeline where Dan came into being. An unspoken acknowledgement of not crossing such a boundary no matter what happened. 

Even after his parents’ deaths. After Jazz’s near-death and coma. 

It’s not exactly something Danny thinks of, really, especially not that he’s now survived highschool and practically moved across the country. Not to mention the fact he has Ellie and Jordan to care for. But it definitely comes to mind the moment Dan- only five at the moment- screams for him. And he’s not going to let anything happen to his kids

[ordheist]

magma wraith

[bluegiragi]

limitations (part 2)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[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

☆ 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.

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[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 was the biggest, looked bigger and buffer than the dragon, at least, 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.