Void

You try not to linger too much on the way they were acting. They seemed fine, really, they did, and you were just nervous, you knew that. It was just mindless anxiety that made you flinch quietly when they approached a little too much as they gave you a tour around their house.

They were being relatively quiet, their voices in a low volume as mostly John Price, the dragon, introduced each part of their house to you. You all walked with you on the middle, as John was walking in front of you and the other three behing you, Johnny a little bit more to the side.

You didn't really notice, not with how you were keeping your eyes mostly at the ground and at the dragon's back, but the three other hybrids had their eyes glued to your small form. Small little thing, that walked so slow. Since John was in front of the group, he had a bit more space to walk, even if he was going slower for you. But for the three who were slightly behind? They were almost just shuffling along so they could keep following you and still keep a respectful distance.

Johnny was clearly getting antsy as they walked. He's a werewolf, that, like dragons, are a very... touchy species. Especially with their pups. And you're just so slow, so cute, so small... he really wanted to touch you. To pick you up and carry you in strong and big arms that would certainly keep a small, soft thing like you warm. And now, he can't avoid paying attention on the fact that you seen to be wearing just a light jacket, and it's cold outside. Well, not to him, but he knows humans, he knows they get cold so easily......

"Control yourself, Tav." Before he could even process, sharp talons were pulling him back as Gaz hissed quietly in his ear, holding his arm firmly. "She's not used to us yet." "I knae, i knae..." Johhny breathed in quietly, trying to compose himself. "Just... such a wee thing..."

You look back for a second, just to see the two big hybrids whispering to eachother. Before you could even try and pay attention to what they were saying, John called your attention back to him. "And this, sweetheart, is your new room."

You nod quietly at that, still a little unsure. John smiled gently at your hesitance, opening a white door at the end of the hallway they were walking on. That makes you frown a little. What kind of kid's room is the last one on the hallway? That's usually the parents room, from your experience.

Still, you couldn't avoid widening your eyes a bit at the sight of the bedroom. Their house was big, that much was obvious (they must have had a hundred children or something), so the room being big wasn't exactly a... surprise. Still, were all rooms in hybrid houses like this?

The room was spacious, big like the rest of the house, but also... very heavily padded. The bedroom floor had soft thick carpet while the rest of the house had wooden floors. In the middle of the room, it had some kind of weird blankets and pillows nest, caved inside the floor. Still, it had a single lonely bed to the side, a cute little bed that looked like it couldn't fit any of the hybrid men.

The bed was pilled with a lot of blankets and pillows, just like the nest. Very fluffy looking, and even had a small metal fance at the side that wasn't against the wall, padded, of course, that made you think that it could have only come from their kids' toddler years or something.

There were a lot of toys tucked inside toy boxes to the side, that were by a giant closet. Some of the plushies were around the room, inside the weird nest at the middle and close to the bed, all soft plush animals. The only two windows had metal bars on them, and were covered by long curtains.

The colors of the room were heavily leaning into pastel tones, like pastel pink, pastel purple, pastel yellow, pastel blue, pastel green and white. It all looked so... childish, but... confortable too.... It looked confortable, safe, clean. It was very clean. This room looked like something out of a movie or something.

So that's why all you could do was stay still as you stared inside the room, a bit stunned. It was just by John's gentle nudge, one that still made you flinch a bit as you felt a heavy, scaily tail touch your back, that you finally stepped inside.

"This was some of our children's room when they were younger." John explained gently, leaning against the door as the others also tried (and failed) to look smooth as they leaned forward by Price's body to watch you inside. "I hope it's okay?"

"A-ah, it's... good..." You mumble quietly, still looking around the room.

Kyle's wings ruffled at your small, meak voice, eyes foucused on you like a damn eagle. Simon leaned a bit more inside the room, silent, a big scary presence. John cleaned his throat a little as he noticed how shy that was making you.

"We're gonna leave you to unpack. If you need us for anything, you just need to call, okay, sweetheart?"

You nodded quietly, still standing in the middle of the room with uncertainty. John smiled gently once again before pushing the others back with his tail and closing the door. You pretended not to hear rushed whispers as soon as the door was closed, foucusing more on putting your backpack under the bed safely.

The bed that... looked so inviting, and so fluff, and it smelled so clean too...

And in a second, you were out like a light, curled in a small little ball on the bed, sleeping over the confortable covers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't know what to think of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

when female lions are in heat they’re males often get tired of all the sex, which results in the female lion biting on the males balls until he agrees to fuck her again.

so just imagine reader whose also a lion hybrid, being in heat and all needy. And the guys have been at it with her for hours, and they’re so exhausted.

“Oh fuck- Bonnie we cannae keep up. Give us a wee break please-“

but he’s cut off as you place a sharp nip to his balls, before going back to licking his cock and bouncing yourself back onto Prices dick.

-🫧

im picturing all four of them sprawled across the room with the 😵‍💫 eyes, covered in sweat, cum, spit and countless bite marks litter their bodies

and you just sit amongst them pouting

Yeah!!!! Love me some ghostgazreader where ghost can just completely let go because he trusts you both to take care of him🥺

He would never usually be so vulnerable where he isn't leading in some way, but with you he goes soft and pliant, exposes his belly to you. Ghosts favorite positions are the ones where he can just lie there.

Of course you and gaz love that fact. Between the three of you gaz wants the most control in bed, so having two partners more than happy to follow his direction? Dream come true.

Sometimes, when gaz isn't feeling all himself and doesn't want to directly participate, he sits himself on the nice comfy chair in the living room and tells you exactly how to touch ghost. Sucking him off, riding him, fingering him until he cries...

Dad bf!Simon, Like ruffling your hair, pats to the ass, checking your outfit all curt like that makes you feel all confident (lifting your chin up, fixing your shirt, kissing your forehead). Helping you calm down when you’ve got big emotions you can’t describe. Sitting you in his lap, rubbing your back.

Or telling you to “Watch your mouth.” When you get too smart. Or drawling out his words, “Coool it,” when you’re doing too much.

Doesn’t mind wrangling you up out of the truck and making you apologize to the rest of the 141 after being a brat for half the night, drawling out your name, a warning, leans against the hood. The much needed cigarette already to his lips. And you’re a hiccuping and babbling mess while you apologize, it’s all embarrassing because it not like you. You know that, but it’s all too much, tears burning your cheeks as they fall.

You wipe your tears with your wrists, eyes glancing at Simon and more tears building up. Letting out the littlest meek of ‘Dad’

He’s scuff, one end of his lip curving upward, “Fuckin hell, come ‘ere.”

You’re lucky you’re cute, adorable and his, gently tugging you into his chest by the back of your neck. Letting your feet stumble as they catch up to his movements, your sobs get muffled into his shirt. Poor thing doesn’t even know what’s wrong with you, Simon does though.

“Kids just stressed, lil things more than tired.” Simon explains to the men who are all ‘aww’ing’, talking as if you’re not there. Just small, by his side.

“Still got her workin mate?” Gaz asks.

“‘F she likes it, ‘f it’s too much I’ll pull the plug…” his thumb rubs your nape, feeling his arms wrap around you, voice coming out so much softer, “But… can’t say no to ‘er.”

ghost isn’t allowed to be alone on leave

it’s a rule the 141 have known since the formation of the task force; set with such severity by price that soap and gaz could never bring themselves to question it. leave is rare anyway, so it honestly slips their minds

then las almas happens. shepherd happens. makarov happens

too much happens in too short a time that even price agrees they need a break

so he gives ghost the option; either he joins one of the others for the duration of their leave or they set up a check in schedule

it used to grate on ghost, this presumed helplessness; that he's someone who needs to be taken care of

then he came back from an enforced leave 20 kilos lighter; his limbs heavy and stiff from laying thoughtlessly in bed, the days blurring together long before he could grasp them

ghost can't be alone, not bc he's a flight risk, but bc losing his purpose makes him aware of how everything is just too much; how much every small action builds up until it's actually a dozen small actions that become insurmountable when he's caught in the depths of fatigue

it starts with laundry; it makes sense to live out of his duffle instead of unpacking, but then he runs out of fresh clothes. it still makes sense to only wear the clothes he'll bring back to base so he just bears the building reek of body odour until he can't smell it anymore

showering starts to go around the same time; without the constant distraction of work and training, all his pain and exhaustion catches up to him. the thought of hauling his body out of bed, of standing long enough to get clean, having to wash his hair and drag a bar of soap over his body just to then do the same with a towel and put on a new set of clothes... it just seems never ending. it's easy to miss a day here and there, then a few more when he gets used to laying there on his sweat-yellowed sheets. then before he knows it, it's been three weeks and his skin itches with the weight of his discomfort and the layers of filth

ghost tries to hang onto food the longest

he knows how much damage it'll do to his body to suddenly lose the macros and caloric density it's used to, knows it'll take longer to recover from than anything else... but then he runs out of his frozen meal prep. his fresh vegetables start to wilt and spoil and the guilt of letting them go bad stops him from buying more. protein lasts slightly longer if he eats it straight from the frypan instead of putting it on a plate but he cooks more to make up for the lack of sides and runs out quicker than he anticipated

but he's used the same pan night after night, built up burnt seasoning and meat residue and he knows he has to clean it before he can use it again. but that means moving it from the stove to the sink. means turning the sink on and scrubbing the pan clean of its stubborn muck. means drying it to put it back on the stove that's just as filthy and should be scrubbed too

it's too much

so ghost leaves the dirty frypan on the dirty stove and eats vegetables out of cans that he only needs to drain

then he runs out of forks

then he runs out of cans

he stops wearing clothes so it won't itch his dirty, irritated skin. he gives into the fatigue clawing at his eyes and weighing down his bones bc the only time he doesn't hurt is when he's asleep. but sleeping so much, laying down so much just makes his body ache in new ways

then he can't make himself get out of bed for shitty food he doesn't even want; that hurts him just to get

he gets hungry. then he's starving. then the hunger goes away altogether and he knows that's the point he should be worried but the only food he has is instant noodles and tea and even waiting for the kettle to boil to make them is just...

it's too much

it's all too much

why is existing so much work

he’s so tired

it’s

too

much-

ghost isn't allowed to be alone on leave

the check ins are harder but he wants to pretend he'll be better; that he won't need as much help, that price won't have to worry so much about him this time

so he picks the check ins; watches his captain give his subordinates their schedule of alternating shifts, each a maximum of three days apart. watches the doubt, then the worry, then the determination as he gives them their marching orders and list of tasks they need to ensure they complete before the end of each check in

and he tries not to be ashamed when every time, without fail, he needs their help

needs soap to gather his sweat-crusted laundry, somehow without an ounce of judgment or disgust; all too happy to tackle the fitted sheet if it means he can feel something fresh against his skin

needs gaz to wrap him in a towel and blow dry his hair when he can manage to move his rust-coated limbs into the shower. he lets him use his own products to wash his face, his hands soft and gentle as he holds his head up and smoothes sweet smelling oils into his undeserving skin

needs price to bring the meals he preps for him; listens to him explain the macros and calories in each container as he washes the few dishes that made it to the sink and puts a new packet of disposable cutlery on the counter within easy reach

it's still so much sometimes, even with all their help; little things a normal person wouldn't think twice about doing building up in his head and it makes him so angry that he just can't do them

that he's beaten by something as benign as a little pain and tiredness

but as price, gaz and soap remind him, that's what they're there for; to help him when he can't help himself, when things get too much. they watch each other's backs, no matter if the battlefield is a desert in urzikstan or an apartment in manchester

they have him

"Nikolai, how did you get this number?"

"It is... trade secret. I will send you an address. You need to meet me there. Alone."

"Did I have 'mug' printed on my forehead last time we met?"

"I have never seen under your mask."

"Fuck sake, fine... Send the address."

--

Simon spent a few hours scouting the warehouse through the end of his scope. It was empty. Owned by a shell corporation. No one entered and no one left. And then a text pinged through: are you going to wait outside until sunrise?

Bastard.

Instead of walking through the front door, Simon scaled up to the second floor and slipped in through a cracked window. He found Nik by a workbench. He didn't even look up as Simon approached.

"Privyet, tavarishch leytenant," Nik said, holding his hands out either side. If Simon remembered correctly, Nik had a korshun in the back of his belt, and a Udav or a Grach under his arm, as standard. There was no sign of anything else, or anyone else. "Did you come alone?"

"Against my better judgement," Simon replied, keeping his rifle braced against his shoulder. "You?"

"Da. I am glad my judgement of you was accurate."

"Wossis abaht, Nikolai?"

"I have him."

"Price?"

"Da."

"And you f'ought callin' me was a good idea?"

There was a pause. Nik tilted his chin down and then turned slowly. He looked... rough. Unshaven, dark circles under his eyes. He had always reminded Simon a little of Snoopy from the telly, but built like a brick shithouse, with a macabre sense of humour.

"He needs us."

Simon felt his hands tighten on the rifle, a surge of anger winding up his spine. "He left us."

Nik clenched his teeth and dropped his chin, hands rubbing over his hair. "He was there for you when everyone else had abandoned you, no?"

"Don't you focki--"

"When you had driven everyone away like a rabid dog, he was in your corner," Nik bit out. "You owe him. As do I."

Simon's mind filled with it all. The long nights in the rec room when the nightmares wouldn't leave him alone. The annual leave spent together on a beaten old sofa. The missions in the arse end of nowhere. The way Price had cracked silently down the middle on that cliffside.

He lowered his rifle, sighing heavily through his nose. "Take me to him."

--

It was a small apartment in a town not five miles from the warehouse. The sleepy kind that held a market on Saturday and had an honour system for the local library. Ghost wasn't quite ready for the sight that greeted him as he ducked into the living room.

"Drugged?"

"He would have escaped if I had left him conscious while I was out..."

"Oh, he is gonna be bloody hoppin' when he wakes."

"Da," Nik said, sadly.

Price was trussed up good and proper on the sofa. Boots and legs bound, hands behind his back, probably secured against his wrists so he couldn't break his thumbs to get out. "Was the gag necessary?"

"That is because he bit me."

"He bit you..."

"It is not the first time," Nik said, far too fondly.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ..."

Price stirred as Simon placed his rifle against the wall, and the next time Simon looked round, he was met with two blue eyes glaring fiercely at him. They flicked to Nik and narrowed marginally, a very clear 'and fuck you too'.

Nik walked over slowly, and hooked his finger through the gag, pulling it out of Price's mouth and past his chin. The smirk Price flashed looked unnatural on his face; not the big, face-crumpling smile Simon was used to. "Good t' see y'again, Simon."

"We need to have a talk."

Price hummed low in his throat.

no, price is not arrogant enough to think he'll evade ghost. it's always a matter of time, of keeping himself moving. there's nothing he can do to throw him off his scent for very long, because as much as he knows simon, ghost knows him.

ohhhhhhh my god tommy being the one to call in the welfare check is so !!! i originally had it as a neighbour who couldn’t handle the smell or was worried about the silence and wasn’t sure if ghost had died but it being tommy!!!

tommy being the one to leave instead of simon since he didn’t have enough motivation to join the military. he knew there was something wrong with his brother, tried to help him how he could - got him his own place, sorted out his bills and a medical certificate to prove he’s incapable of work to get him a pension - but he just never got better; he was never happy no matter what tommy did

it was easy to tell himself that simon was better off in the hands of professionals, that not knowing what to do when someone is this bad is normal. he tells himself this might finally be the thing that fixes simon, that this is what he needed all along and if anything tommy was being selfish in pretending he could look after him all by himself just bc he wanted to make up for how simon protected him when they were kids

but the real truth? he doesn’t want to look after his big brother anymore. he was tired of it, of nothing ever sticking, of simon never being grateful for what he does for him, never thanking him, never acknowledging how hard it is to look after someone like him. and he was tired of all that effort going to waste bc even when simon seemed to be on an upswing, when he managed to get out for a walk or eat of his own volition or even crack those god awful jokes he likes, it never lasts. if anything, he gets worse after these bright moments and tommy has to start the cycle all over again

so when simon doesn’t answer his phone for the hundredth time, he doesn’t pick up his keys. every time he thinks of visiting, it just makes him angry with how little simon appreciates everything he does for him and he doesn’t want him to see him angry; doesn’t like how much he feels like their father in those moments were simon looks impossibly small. simon lets his phone die all the time, this is nothing new

when simon’s landlord calls him to say he’s not paid rent for the third month in a row and not even bothered to contact him with a reason, that anger gets worse. tommy looked everywhere for a building that would accept a flexible rent plan, that would forgive late payments so long as they came with proof of contrition. if simon ruins this and gets evicted, the only place he has left to go is tommy’s and he refuses to live with his brother again, refuses to pick up after him and feed him and waste his breath convincing him to be a person instead of wallowing just bc he’s sad

it’s only when simon’s neighbour calls to ask if he’s heard from him recently that he realises the months that have passed are far longer than simon usually goes without at least trying to call him. that he hasn’t gotten a text with a single letter, the compromise they came to if he couldn’t bring himself to call just so tommy knows he’s alright. he hasn’t heard anything

anxiety outweighs anger for the first time in years and he rushes for the front door

just to stop, his hand hovering over the doorknob

and he realises despite the fear, despite the very real possibility that in his neglect he may have lost his brother, he still doesn’t want to check on simon

tommy’s hand falls away from the door and that alone makes the dread rising in his stomach slowly recede even as the fear remains

tommy’s hand falls away from the door

You were so excited to learn you'd be with another dog hybrid, contrary to popular belief they aren't all that common in higher ranks.

For once, you get to have someone who understands you instincts and doesn't scoff at your social behaviors. You get someone to maybe-hopefully pack bond with and not have to explain what that is. You finally get someone high energy to run and play with—

And it turns out he's a giant, sleepy, boring dog.

Lieutenant riley does little more than give you a sniff when he first meets you, a sleepy rumble low in his chest before meandering off. Not what you expected, but it's still nice to bond with him.

Ghost, as it turns out, is a great packmate. He's willing to indulge your more hyper moods, and when he isn't?

"Fuckin' settle down, pup." Ghost grunts, grabbing you by the scruff and tossing you to the floor of the rec room. You barely get a moment to recover before 300+ pounds of dog hybrid lie atop you, pinning you down heavily.

Not matter how hard you bark and growl, ghost just rumbles in his half-sleep, tail slowly wagging.

Without fail, it always seems to make you sleepy too. All that high energy you can never deal with settling right down into a foggy peace, enjoying your packmate on top of you and his scent so close, your own tail wagging.