#wraith!ghost

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 13)

Goddammit, you never felt this small before. Sure, all hybrids are twice or thrice your size, but why do you feel this way only now that you were standing in front of Johnny's kneeled down form?

He was kneeling down. Kneeling down. And was still bigger than you standing up.

He was large too. All of them were, really. Men as buff as them naturally had large bodies—it was impossible not to notice that their arms were as thick as your torso.

So....

How exactly were you supposed to fight with him?

It's a play fight, just a play fight, but still, you didn't know what to do. This was insane, how could someone like you fight with a werewolf his size...? And he wanted you to "mess him up"??

You should've suggest playing UNO instead, this is torture.

"Mhm.... I-I... dunno what to do...?" You mumble, uncertain. Your eyes flick to his form—the way excitement buzzes through him, his tail wagging fast behind him, ears pressed flat against his head. His toothy smile never wavering.

Big canines too, bigger than Ghost's.

"It's easy, lassie." He cooed, voice more controlled and calmer than what his body language was showing. "Come on, ya trust papa, right? Papa will never hurt ye."

"I don't know how to fight...." You insist, frowning a little in worry, still shuffling quietly in front of him.

“Don’ have tae. Wha’ does a wee pup ken?” He snickers, rolling his eyes as his accent gets stronger out of nowhere. “Ah just like ma kids messin’ me up! Ye can bite, scratch, or anythin’ else, really. Ah can take anythin’, ye wee runt!”

You hesitate, still looking over his form in worry and confusion. You didn't even move from your position, just holding onto your hoodie as you rubbed your socked feet with each other.

Johnny’s excited, competitive demeanor softened a bit as he sized you up, his tail wagging less and his ears perking up again.

“C’mere, puppy, c’mere… pstpst, it’s alrigh’…” He cooed gently, beckoning you closer with a small hand gesture. “Come tae papa, he’ll teach ye everythin’, aye?”

You blushed in embarrassment at his attitude, letting out a quiet sigh as you approached, still clutching the sleeves of your hoodie.

He immediately flashed you a big, toothy grin—sincere, yet still intimidating. His dangerous demeanor remained as scary as ever. Honestly? He looked kinda insane.

And then—

Big hands grabbed you, making you gasp in surprise as he took you down onto the mat. Technically, he just kinda grabbed you and eased you onto your back, but still—you weren’t expecting it! It was fast.

“Down ye go.” He smiled in a terrifying mix of gentleness and smugness. “Now what, wee bonnie baby?” His tone was pure challenge.

You stared up at him with wide eyes, frozen for a few seconds. His big palm rested gently on your chest, fingers spread just enough to frame your neck as he held both your shoulders down with one hand, caging you in. His feral eyes and sharp grin never wavered as he loomed over you, kneeling like a true predator.

You breathed in shakily at the thought, both small hands coming up to grasp his wrist, trying to gently push his hand away. Your legs curling up close to your chest.

“Don’ let him pin ya down.”

Ghost’s voice immediately caught your attention, making you turn your head on the mat to glance at him sideways on the edge of the mat. He stood with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, watching closely.

“Aye, runt, why’re ye lettin’ me pin ye down?” Soap teased again, one of his fingers gently rubbing your cheek from where he held you against the mat.

You bit your lip at the provocation, anxiety creeping back in. You pushed with a bit more force, trying to make his hand move, but weakened your grip when he laughed mockingly, leaning his head down dangerously close to yours.

“Look at this… nae claws at all, such cute wee fingers… trimmed nails and all, eh, wee baby? Price was talkin’ ‘bout ye humans… how we’ve gotta keep ye groomed right—short nails on hands an’ feet, brushed wee teeth, and trimmed hair… are all humans frail wee thingies like ye, runt?” He snickered, a broad, teasing smile stretched across his face.

"Big talk for a dirty mutt." Ghost joined in, voice low and raspy as he steaped on the mat, feet covered in black socks.

You immediately tensed up in worry at his tone, eyes widening as your body locked up. It sounded harsh, and for a moment, you genuinely feared they might start arguing right then and there.

But...

Johnny just laughed it off, his smile still wide, his hand still pressing you down against the mat as he kept an eye on Simon entering the mat from his peripheral vision.

“Are ye gonna get in the way, Si?” Soap asked menacingly, tilting his head slightly, baring his teeth at the other man.

“No. I don’t plan on fightin’ ya. I’m here for the kid.” he answered simply, dropping heavily to his knees by your side. "Come on, fledgling. His fingers are wide spread, tuck your hands under them."

You blinked up at him, stunned for a few seconds, before quickly glancing back at Johnny’s hand. Letting go of his wrist, you forced your hands under his fingers, slowly but surely lifting it off your shoulders and chest.

Sure, Johnny wasn’t putting much strength behind it, and he was still cooing at you the whole time, but you managed to take his hand off of you, only for Simon to roughly shove Johnny down onto the mat.

“Hey!” Soap laughed, falling onto his back, his elbows holding his body up.

"Go, up, come on." Simon nudged you, pushing your sitted form in Johnny's direction gently.

You got to your feet, slightly unsteady, feeling the gentle push of his hand that made you tumble on top of Soap, who was just staring at you with a smile.

“Hurt him. Go for his neck.” Ghost instructed, arms crossed as he watched you both.

“Wi’ these wee hands?” Soap cooed mockingly, his hand coming up to gently grab yours and rub with his thumb.

Ghost sighed quietly at your lack of reaction, watching you sit on top of Soap’s waist, your hand held in his, looking uncertain. Truly, zero instincts with this one.

“Gaz was right… it really does feel like when we had only newborns.” Soap laughed quietly, messing slightly with your hand, moving it around. “Ah used tae put them on ma chest for tummy time, too.”

You frowned slightly in confusion at that, head tilting slightly to the side.

"What's that...?"

“Oh, it’s—Ah mean…”

Even though Johnny was still smiling, he frowned a bit too, apparently caught off guard by your question. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. For a moment, it even seemed like pity crossed his face too.

“It’s when ye put babies on a soft surface, belly to the ground, and leave ‘em there. Helps ‘em strengthen their bodies so they can start crawling later on,” Ghost explained calmly, pushing you up slightly higher against Soap. “Now, come on, try to hurt him. He can take it.”

You still hesitated at that, unsure about actually trying to hurt one of your foster parents. Still, you sighed quietly before grabbing the hand that was holding yours and pushing against Johnny's face, hearing him laugh.

"Yeah, that's not going to do much." Ghost commented dryly.

Before you could say anything else, you let out a small, surprised yelp as Soap suddenly switched places with you, grabbing your small body effortlessly and getting on top of you once again, big grin still plastered on his stupid smiling face.

This time, at least, you managed to place your feet against his chest, pushing him slightly away from your body.

"Ya ken, Price's always liked a rough fight," Soap chuckled, a smug smile on his face as his big hand wrapped around your calf. "Me too, o' course, but he's even more violent than me, if ye believe it. Big bastard roughed up everyone as a soldier, an' let all the kids rough him up right back as a parent. He loves it."

"To be fair, most of us do." Ghost nodded from his place on the mat.

"But how does a wee thing like ye plan to do it if ye dinnae even try?"

At that, your leg was quickly pulled back, your body dragged across the mat as you let out a small shriek, only to immediately laugh right after when Soap stopped pulling you by the leg.

Actually, you were so busy giggling in a mix of surprise and excitement that you didn’t notice Johnny and Simon looking at you with surprise and contentment. It took them a bit, but they finally managed to make you actually laugh.

And what a cute laugh you had.

"Guys, come on up, Price still wants to check if her cold's gone away and watch a movie!" Kyle called out from the stairs, smiling gently at the scene.

"Heard that, lass? Hope ye like cartoons, ‘cause we love ‘em!" Johnny smiled excitedly, helping you up onto your little feet.

"I actually developed a liking for them after bein' forced to watch thousands of different ones as our kids grew up," Ghost commented, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Coco's very nice. Would ya like to see it, kid?"

"I'm... not sure...." You mumble, not recognizing the name.

"Yer gonna love it, lassie! Ah guarantee!"

Part 12 /

[pink-disco-bears]

You had no idea what your father was thinking. Yes, an attempt had been made on your life a few weeks ago (as a product of being the youngest princess), and as a result your father ranted that you needed far more protection than a few “mere” guards. You envisioned a more 24/7 group of guards, following you from your chambers to meals to studies, etc.. You did not imagine going to the parlor room at your father’s call to see a chained-up wraith before you. “His name is Ghost, he’ll be your guard,” your father said simply. Now teatime was set to be far more awkward.

[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.

[chillestenby]

A drawing of my new oc Flower and father figure Ghost + accidental one shot under the cut.

Been missing a very specific type of stories I used to revisit on cai when I used to use it. So I decided to make a small self indulgent art inspired by those bots.

In my head Flower is a bit chaotic kid that is stubborn and thinks he knows best and doesn't want help from anyone or to be taken care of cuz he's too 'big' for that, while Ghost is his foster dad (or something like that) who tries to help him. I drew and mentioned only Ghost, but I fully see this 'story' as poly!141 type shit.

Also here's like a oneshot type thing I accidentally wrote for this drawing.

Flower has been stubborn all week, avoiding everyone except for meals or to inform them that he's leaving and tell them when he's coming back (usually sometimes not even that). And now that Friday has come, Flower was itching to go out. See friends, maybe have a smoke or drink or two, just let loose.

So, without even thinking he packed a bag for the night (extra clothes, water, a few snacks be snuck from the kitchen and nausea medicine) and quickly put on his sneakers. He walked downstairs and mindlessly called out: "going out, be back by tommorow!".

Suddenly, as Flower was about to exit the house, black smoke appeared infront of him. Flower wasn't suprised when out of it Ghost appeared, he was already used to the wraith hybrid and his.. many habits.

Flower was just about to squeeze by him and be on his merry way, when Ghost placed his hand on Flowers shoulder. After a shorter pause, Ghost spoke in his usual gruff tone: "be back by 10."

Flower's face scrunched up a bit and said: "yea. Alright. See ya at 10." It didn't take a genius to figure out that Flower wouldn't be back by 10and just said it so to get Ghost off his ass. Yet still, Ghost nodded and moved out of the way. Letting Flower leave.

...

Time quickly passed for Flower, he met up with some of his friends after a lengthy travel. They all found the perfect park where they sat around, drank a bit of cheap vodka they bought, listened and terriably sang along.

Flower missed this. He knew maybe it wasn't the best way to spend some of his rare free time and 'extra' cash, but it made him feel normal. Like a kid. For these few hours he didn't need to worry about his grades, his 'work' (tutoring of kids dumber or lazier then him as he liked to phrase it) or what will he do when he turns 18 and is ultimately left to truly take care of himself on his own. No, he could be just a dumb teen who was getting drunk with other dumb teens.

But as his luck had it, at exactly 10:15, Ghost unexpectedly showed up. He sighed looking disappointed: "told ya to be back by 10", suddenly picked Flower up bridal style.

The sudden stunt filled Flower with different emotions, from anger to embarrasment. In his semi drunk state, he didn't have the mental capasity to process everything, so suddenly he started squirming and trying to push Ghost away. Kicking and scrathing to be set free as he snapped "you're not in position to tell me shit! You in't my dad! So leave me the fuck alone!"

Flower could feel Ghost's arms tensing around his body a bit, but he wasn't ready when swiftly Ghost change their position. Now, Flower was over Ghost's back, held in that position my Ghost's hand that was clutching his right pant leg and right sleeve. He was carried like a soldier.

Flower still tried to struggle, yet it was futile. Ghost grabbed Flower's backpack, nodded at his friends and wordlessly left. After a short moment of silence, he said harshly "I know you don't see us as your guardiens and that's alright, but I'm doing this for your good. So, stop acting like a brat." Ghost knew he should've maybe been kinder, but fucking hell. That was like watching a 4 year old have a tantrum.

If Flower was in his 'right' mind he would've continued fighting with Ghost. But something stopped him in his tracks. His chest tightened up and he froze for a few moments, before suddenly burying his face into Ghost's shoulder blade. He didn't know how to respond, he was overwhelmed with so many emotions that all he wanted to do was cry. But he didn't. He shouldn't. He's too big to cry over stupid shit. Crying is for when somebody died, not when someone embarrases you, pulls a shot move that ends up with you embarassing yourself and then to ad the cherry on top calls you a brat.

Ghost was a bit confused by the lack of response, but decided not to prod. He walked a bit longer till they reached his car. He placed Flower into the passenger seat and then entered the drivers seat. The rest of the way back 'home' was uneventful. Flower wasn't talking or anything, not even staring out the windows. Just blankly staring at his lap, as he chewed on his lower lip and fidgeted.

The moment they got home, Ghost just sighed and told Flower to get ready for bed. He knew it was better to have a proper conversation about all this in the morning and not when the kid was clearly drunk. He lead the kid to his room and bid him good night.

Flower wordlessly obeyed and quickly changed into pjs and went to bed. He didn't want to deal with his thoughts. They were too loud, overwhelming, making him feel so small in comperassion. Luckily, he had drunk enough that the moment he layed in bed, he practically passed out.

Now, his only issue was tommorow...

[voltac]

Irrevocable

Pairing: Simon Riley x f!oc (unnamed in this fic) Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Cannon typical Violence, depictions of injuries & death, blood, Fluff and Angst, mentions of Roba, wraith!Ghost, protective!Simon, mentions of aftermath of capture, Monster AU Word count: 2.1k A/N: My entry for @glitterypirateduck's GhostChallenge. Scenario #20(Forehead Touching) and #9(Alternate Universe) with some hints of #11(Best Friends to Lovers). This is lowkey a drabble of Forged In Fire but if they were both wraiths, was a lot of fun and I might have to expand on it.

“It’ll be fine, Si.”

“It’s just a quick recovery Op. There and back in no time.”

“I’ll be done ‘n dusted before you’re finished with the rookies’ PT.”

The words echoed in the back of his head. Distorted by the chill that climbed up the back of his spine as he felt the shadows bleeding from his skin. The world around him barely registered, the veil between nightmares and reality blurring together until he watched Roba’s men cower in front of him. Vaguely he was aware of the warmth leeching into his mask, a pressure along his gums building until elongated fangs pressed through the skin.

He could feel the fabric tear beneath his fingers, talons forcing their way through his nailbeds until they hooked through the material in front of him. It was impossible to see through the red smoke surrounding him, a desperate rage fueled by vitriol and fear pushing him through the barriers in front of him. He tried to remember where he was – what had sparked the anger searing through his bones.

Flashes of a broken smile, torn lips pulled back into what was supposed to be reassurance. Slate grey eyes standing out in horrific contrast to the broken blood vessels surrounding them. Dark bruises and discolored skin. Tattered clothes with fresh crimson soaking into the material, sticking painfully against new and old wounds with each movement. It hit too close to home.

Too close to Coahuila.

To Roba.

“Ghost-! Wait-.”

The words echoed around him, familiar but aggressive.

Worried.

             Panicked.

They were in danger.

She was in danger.

The aggression flared back to life. Wrath and violence cut through his flesh until it sunk hooks into muscle. A mind numbing cold settled across his bones, the now familiar taste of death heavy across his tongue as the shadows leaked from his lungs. The darkness was familiar and safe – power that had saved them when nothing else could.

Intoxicating and freeing.

They wouldn’t go back.

“We lost contact with Alpha Team.” Muscles coiled along his spine, jaw clenching until he tasted copper at the back of his throat. “Response Team is MIA.”

He felt bone beneath his palm, teeth biting into the flesh with each blow. The cold metallic scent was overpowered by rot. Sulfur and ash filled his lungs until he felt the dark clouds permeate his skull, pressure building behind his eyes with each swipe he took at the phantoms. He could hear Roba’s voice now, mocking and condescending as the man sneered down at him.

Taunts countered by a soft caustic sarcasm. A gentle warmth surrounded by jagged barbs. The anger was palpable – familiar. It spoke to a shared understanding. They were the same. Shadows curled inward, tearing through flesh and bone until they hooked into the soul. Gnashing teeth and jagged claws biting into the essence of their target.

“Simon!”

The voice tore through the darkness like a beacon. A searing spotlight targeting the stilled heart beneath the shadows and death. A quiet warmth blossomed amidst the blizzard. Twisting and churning until he could feel the ice melting from his ribs. The surrounding shadows shuddered. Coiling vipers melting back against the ground, basking in the sun as the figure moved forward.

He became acutely aware of the viscera embedded beneath his claws. The metallic tang of blood heavy in the air as something soft ghosted across his cheeks to settle along his jaw. The crimson mist surrounding him slowly faded, darkness bleeding back into the corners of his mind as the sun settled across his skin. The lingering shadows around him hummed at the familiar comfort, heat buzzing along his spine as grey pools clashed with black. The monochrome calm before a storm staring back at him through the waves of aggression and fear.

“Simon-.”

She was solid now.

Real.

A physical manifestation of patience and forgiveness reaching up to counter the manifestation of malice and hate. Her hold was absolute. Fingers hooked with a gentle resolution around his jaw. An unyielding tether that pulled him further and further out of the storm until his forehead rested against something solid.

“Hey, hey… Need you back with us, yeah?”

Her voice was quiet. Words spoken so softly he was afraid they’d shatter if he moved too quickly. The pressure against his forehead continued, a firm reassurance that the threat had passed.

“They’re gone now, Si.” She assured. “It’s over- We’re safe.”

Black recedes into an endless forest. Brown clashing with grey as the man resurfaces, the wraith lingering so closely he could feel its breath enveloping them. Inky black shadows danced around them, coiling like protective vipers until the world outside was hidden away. Somewhere beyond the smoke and shadow he could sense the other occupants of the room, anxiety buzzing through their bones as they lingered.

He expected the same fear from the grey eyed woman. A caustic voice pouring venom into his ear with each dull thud against his ribs. Despite the voices – in spite of the voices – the woman remained calm. Worry and anxiety hooking painfully into his chest as she clung to his frame. Gentled reassurances passed bruised lips in waves. They were barely a whisper, warmth sparking anew in his chest with the realization.

It was just for him.

Images of a broken body flickered behind his eyes. The devastation replaced by wide grins and gleaming teeth. Elbows digging playfully into his side as her smaller frame moved around the shared kitchen in their den – home. Flickers of irritated glares and frowns that didn’t match gleaming eyes. The clean scent of spices and flowering hibiscus chasing away the smell of rotten graves and heavy blood.

“Y’with me, Si?”

“…Always…”

The assurance went deeper than the promise they’d made all those years ago. An oath spoken in dark stillness before they were dragged into the grave. It was unyielding and unbending, one of the natural truths that they’d built on their shared foundation. There was nowhere either could go that the other wouldn’t follow. Something recognized even by the harsh malevolence of the wraith trapped beneath their ribs.

Her eyes crinkled at his response. Relief flooding her features until it washed away the lingering worry, frame. Her hands shifted from his cheeks, ghosting across his neck until they hooked behind his shoulders. A tired sigh escaped her as she buried her face in his shoulder, body sagging against his. A frown pulled at his lips, arms encasing her smaller frame as she muttered quietly into his neck.

Simon had lost control.

She had expected him to snap to some extent. He’d bordered on over-protective since he’d pulled them from the grave in Coahuila. But the wraith in front of her was positively feral. It wasn’t Simon tearing through the enemy right now –

It was Ghost.

A physical manifestation of all the man’s fear and hate and malice. A creature born of desperation and survival now tearing through soldiers with such lethality that it made what was once a specialized force nothing more than victims. The distance between their skills too large to be considered adversaries.

They never stood a chance.

“Lass – stay back!”

She knew Soap meant well.

He was just looking out for her. Just as desperate to reach through the swirling darkness to the man trapped within the wraith. But she knew better – she’d been there. Trapped beneath her ribs sat the same malignant rage. A ravenous aggression that would raze cities to the ground to protect the precious few she clung to.

“Simon!”

She lunged towards him, fingers curling against the Scotsman’s arm as he hauled her backwards. She couldn’t feel the ache of her wounds. Pain dulling as her attention zeroed in on the feral wraith tearing through the enemy in front of them. Panic built in her chest, throat twisting painfully as she threw herself forward.

She knew what he was seeing.

She recognized the shuttering breaths and swirling smoke. Eyes that passed over them without really seeing them. She could feel the mounting fear in her skin. A cold desperation settling deeper in her bones with each wide arching slash of incorporeal claws. She could practically hear Roba’s jeering words and the suffocating darkness of the grave.

They were running out of time.

“Simon-!”

Her elbow dug into the werewolf’s stomach. His grip loosening just enough that she was able to surge forward. The shadows struck out on instinct. Ghosting across her skin with all the aggression of an evening breeze. Despite the vitriol crackling at the surface, she was able to slip through the swirling darkness.

Recognized.

She could feel the familiar pressure along her spine. Breath leaving her in thick grey clouds as she bolted through the shadows. A forgotten heaviness settled in her ribs, chill causing a shiver to break out across her skin as she reached out towards the rampaging wraith. He’d turned towards her at her approach, black eyes unseeing until her fingers settled across his jaw.

His feral state made him taller. Frame dwarfing hers until she was forced to roll onto her toes to reach him. The pads of her fingers settled gently as she pulled his face down towards hers, forehead resting against the chilled flesh of his. Grey intertwined with black, old wounds leaking fading smoke that was quickly suffocated by the swirling mass surrounding her.

“Hey, hey…” She cooed quietly, forcing her words to remain calm. “Need you back with us, yeah?”

She prayed they reached the man within the wraith. Eyes clenching shut when the shadows shuttered around her. Anxiety spiked as her grip tightened. She knew the rest of the pack was afraid – not necessarily of the feral state but of the possibilities.

An uncontrolled wraith could be devastating.

Was devastating.

There was no end to the possibilities.

“They’re gone now, Si.” She felt herself mutter, eyes sliding close as a wave of fatigue threatened to overwhelm her. “It’s over- we’re safe.”

It was a quiet reassurance.

A promise.

The shadows shuttered around her again. The darkness that had leaked from his lungs began to fade. Inky black slowly swallowed by white as brown orbs turned towards her. The shadows enveloping her hissed, thick arms settling across her back while large hands grasped at the back of her shoulders. Simon’s frame was visible again, all but curling around the battered woman as he took shuttering breaths between clenched teeth.

The chill of death was melting from his bones, muscles relaxing with a painstakingly slowness as the darkness continued to melt back beneath his skin. Without the smoke to obscure it the battle sat openly across his frame. Viscera and gore clinging to his uniform and skin, painting a macabre scene across new and old scars. The heavy metallic scent was overpowering, almost suffocating the familiar spices and smoke she’d come to expect.

“Y’with me, Si?”

It was always the same question.

Simple at the surface but with deeper meaning that was lost to the onlookers outside of their orbit. Patience and warmth tethering them to the present. Waiting unflinchingly as they broke down feral instincts and bloodlust. Peeling back the raw panic and anger that accompanied long buried memories and living nightmares.

Bloodshot brown eyes settled on her own, the far off expression slowly melting away. A jagged frown carved itself across his lips, brows furrowing as he took in each new bruise that marred her skin. For the first time since the conflict began, he was looking at her, gaze no longer trapped behind the red haze of broken bodies and desperate anger.

“…always…”

The confirmation rumbled from his chest, the assurance reverberating through her bones when his arms tightened their hold. It was an absolute; spoken with the same confidence he’d used all those years ago. Unshakable even in the face of the harshest atrocities war had to offer. More than a promise or an oath but a core belief carved into their ribs.

And she believed him.

She could feel the relieved smile curving across her lips, eyes crinkling as her shoulders sagged. The lingering worry melted away, hand lightly tapping his cheek before they slid down his neck to hook behind his shoulders. The fatigue seeped into the space fear had left behind, a tired sigh pulled from her chest as she tucked her face into his shoulder. Simon’s arms encased her, all but wrapping around her frame as she sagged against him.

“Might’ve been a lil off on that return date.” She muttered into his neck, ignoring the way his shoulders rocked with a sarcastic scoff. “Though technically I didn’t specify which PT class.”

“Whatever you say, Luv.”

“Tha’s what I thought.”

@tacticallysalted, @noodlereader, @oneunluckybadger

[crowwbones]

Lapdog - wip

im... alive lmfao. Just havent drawn much in the past few months :) but i have this and i'll think about finishing it before my break is over

[hero-hoe]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Oh my. Seems I forgot to post a chapter announcement here yesterday. Whoopsie ♡

Chapter 17 of ISatTA is out !!♡ chapter spoilers below the cut for those who don't want them. Thank you for being patient♡♡

This chapter deals with: character death, familial death, brief feelings of isolation, and food hesitancy. There is also fluff and an fair amount of caretaking at the end. ♡

[briefunknownnerd]

Hi, friends! I'm a pretty new content creator here, even though I've been on Tumblr for a little over a year now. I've got some ideas rattling around in my brain, and I just wanted to share a little piece from a fanfic I'm writing that's going to be published on AO3 as soon as I've completed it! I'm on 16k words (out of how many? who knows I'm just getting started) so far, and I absolutely cannot wait to share! Without further ado, the prologue. With all my love, Em

Once upon a time, there was a girl made of stars. She lived off of moonlight and honey, drinking the nectar as much or as little as she liked. And she coasted off of those stars, with wings softer than silk and lighter than air. For she loved the stars- the dust that was in her very bones. 

Every star was different. Some shimmered and sparkled, others were angry red things that could burn her fingertips. Her favorite, though, were the ones that twinkled and winked in and out of existence. Those stars were her haven- away from the paradise she called home. The girl went to the stars whenever she could, away from lessons that covered the whole span of the universe. From the dawn of creation, to when the seers will tell when each star, planet, and creature will die out. 

Upon reaching her 28th year- in mortal terms- she was bestowed a glorious sword made of heavenly fire. The flames upon the blade did not burn the girl, for she was partly made of the same fire herself. Fire and stardust. Life and death. 

The flames licked at her skin and danced when she smiled. 

The girl made of life and death was thrust into a battle with no training. The sword was her best friend and kept her safe- for she was lonely. For eons, she waged wars and fought battles, and named the sword Kavod, for she bestowed holy righteousness upon her enemies. 

The girl was sent to earth, back and forth, for millennia, protecting the little mortals that her Lord cared about so much from unholy entities. However, when she flew down to earth in robes made of hyacinth and fire, with trumpets and pipers playing their tune, she grew fond of one. Too fond. 

The girl made of the stars fell in love. 

She had gone to bed with the man she loved, pouring her heart and soul into loving him. By a jealous God, she was whisked away back home. When she returned, with streets paved with gold and gates made of sparkling diamonds and pearls, she was outcast. Down and out to earth to live a mortal life, for falling in love with mortals was forbidden where she came from. And every night that she was on earth, she looked to the stars to make a wish upon each one. A wish to live her human life to the fullest, to keep her love, to fight glorious battles like she once did when she was young. To stretch her wings again and to fly to the stars, and to drink the nectar one last time. But the girl made of stars was no more.