#simon riley cat

[neoarchipelago]

Soul link 4 - Christmas time

God DAMN IT THIS IS ROTTING MY BRAIN PLEASE HELP!

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Winter time had rolled in. The cold wind and cloudy skies brought ironic joy to the recruits. For a lot of them, it was a moment to spend with their families, given leave for a few days. You were also given leave. Unfortunately, you had nowhere to go. You were going to spend the next two weeks on the base, indulging yourself in some rest. Little lies told to yourself, knowing damn well you'd help with work any time you could to avoid feeling lonely.

You walked through the yard, black jeans, military boots, long flowy sleeves of your white blouse, tucked in your pants, secured by a thin belt, pretty black bow as a tie, a tiny bell in the middle, clinging at every step. It might be one of your favorite things at Christmas time. The bells. You loved the sound of the bells, jingling on hats, wreaths or trees. You opened the door to the office building, the whiff of warm air making your hair slightly float for a split second. You shivered, rubbing your arms to warm up the skin underneath the too thin fabric. You were still happy to be able to wear these clothes, a refreshing change from the usual tactical gear and military uniforms.

You hopped up the stairs, the little jingle of your bow making you smile. You turned right, heading for Captain Price's office, hoping to be given some kind of task. You grabbed your phone, checking for notifications as you skipped your way through the hallway, jumping up and down once in a while to make the bell ring. The more it ringed, the more you smiled.

You were almost there when something caught you by the waist, roughly pulling you to the right. You yelped, your fight instincts kicking in as you tried to punch the person. Your wrist was caught immediately as you were pushed against a wall. You took in your surroundings, trying to create some kind of escape plan when you noticed the files on the shelves. The archive room. The door closed, the sound of the lock being turned making you shiver.

However, you relaxed immediately, the pretty ears twitching making your muscles loosen up.

"LT..?" You asked in a whisper.

His eyes were slitted, a little frown on his face as they scanned your body. You blushed under his scrutinizing gaze. You adjusted yourself against the wall, getting a bit more comfortable. The bell rang lowly, as if in a whisper. His eyes snapped to the sound, pupils dilating. It made you gasp, your fascination growing. His hand rose to your neck, your heartbeat picking up. Two fingers hitting the gray round thing, almost hidden by the silky fabric of your bow. The sound rang in the silence. It wasn't loud. But in the density of the noiseless room, it felt like an echo in the dark.

"Are you… toying with me?" He asked with a little scolding.

"Excuse me..?" You asked.

"The bell. Are you toying with me?" He asked more firmly.

You blinked. What? The realization hit you like a truck. Cat… bell. Cat. The bell! The sound of the bell! You closed your eyes, huffing a little chuckle.

"No sir. I didn't even think of it. I thought you were out on leave." You explained softly.

He eyed you for a second.

He wasn't attracted to bells. He had a lot more self control than that. Therefore it was more than just shock when his ears and tail popped out at the sound of a distant, small, high pitched bell. He was horrified with himself. He had taken a glance out the door, seeing you, watching your phone, jumping your way in the hallway. His tail had shaken way too excitedly and he had wanted to punch himself in the face.

"Where did you get that?" He asked.

Perhaps it was a special bell. Something electronic, a special frequency.

"Hum.. it's a simple bell… it came with the bow…" you answered, confused.

His mind was running full speed, all over the place. He simply had to find the meaning of his reaction. He was a fucking lieutenant in the military, part of a special task force, he was a killer, a monster, not a pet attracted to some squeaky toy! What if he heard another bell on the battlefield?! Absolutely not!

"Sir..?" You asked.

It was hard to think. You kept distracting him. Your voice, your heartbeat, your scent. Your scent. Your scent…?

"God fucking damn it." He hissed.

It wasn't the bell only. It was the bell mixed with your scent. His eyes were wide, shock and frustration mixing.

"Sir…"

"What?" He snapped. You flinched, he saw it. And he instantly felt bad.

"Can… I have my hand back…" you asked, looking down.

He hadn't let go of your wrist. Shit. He took a deep breath. He straightened himself, taking in his position, way too incredibly close to you, as he let go.

"Who wears a bell around their neck?" He let out.

"I do." You pouted, crossing your arms. You looked offended much to his dismay. "I like it. They sound pretty."

"What are you doing here dressed like that anyway?" He crossed his arms as well.

"I'm on leave sir! I can dress however I want." You answered in the same annoyed tone.

"Doesn't explain what you are doing here." He snarled.

"I was looking for Captain Price." You answered, trying to keep up a facade under the sharpness of his tone.

"He's not here." He informed you.

"Oh…" you looked slightly disappointed.

"What do you need?"

"Hum… nothing. Was looking for something to do." You mumbled.

"Why aren't you going home?"

You felt yourself crumble. Home. Where was even that for you? This base. Here. Was the closest thing to 'home'. You took too long to answer, and he got it. He understood. No need for whispers. He understood. It hit too close to home. He was on leave too. Price had the whole squad on leave, ordering him to go out, enjoy his days off without hiding at the base. Price knew. He knew what happened at Christmas and why he hated it so much. So he, too, was looking for something to do.

"I have to find some files for a current suspect. Some old data on him. Can't fucking find it for the love of god." He asked, a hidden offer behind his words.

"Can.. I help?" You asked back.

He nodded as you happily jumped, the bell ringing.

"No. No jumping." He warned, his hand hiding his eyes, the last little vulnerability of him.

You cleared your throat.

"Sorry… would you like me to take it off?" You questioned, hands raising, ready to take action upon your words.

"No." He hurried, words faster than his brain.

He mentally insulted himself before turning back to the shelves. "Leave it on."

[tojisun]

unwilling cat dad simon oh i need it so bad.

he’s a dog guy through and through but your cat keeps nuzzling her head on his feet, weaving her little body between his legs while he’s walking, and chirping at him when he plops on his spot on the sofa in your place, and who is simon to not fall in love?

he picks her up and drapes her on his chest, and he just melts when she begins to purr so loud or when she makes biscuits on his sternum. he swipes his thumb softly at the top of her head and she mews, tongue poking out, and simon’s face crumples because god she is a sweetheart.

he’d even start calling her his daughter. his child.

“my baby’s baby,” he’ll say and then show a polaroid picture he took of you holding your cat up.

“our kid,” and it’s a cat with a binky.

“little princess,” and it’s a cat asleep on the side of his face, her whole body curled like a croissant while she nuzzles at his cheek.

(simon brings his dog with him and your cat is besotted.

“aww, are you poutin’ cuz you’re no longer her favourite boy?” you tease and simon just sniffs, looking away.

you laugh, loud and booming, and simon picks you up and throws you over his shoulder in retaliation.

you hear a chirp and a bark, and god you wouldn’t trade this for anything else.)

[dmitriene]

cw: hybrids, dubcon (?), trapping, knotting and things.

dog hybrid simon riley that tries to mount you, it's not his fault, it's his owner who's responsible for bringing a sweet, docile kitten in the house that already has a big dog, he's never showed his affection to any possible animals around, even to his own specie, how he should, but upon meeting you, soft, supple thing with groomed tail and fluffy ears, he remembers he has a cock to stuff and breed.

you expected him to scent you and then forget about you, after all, he's a scary dog, and the man that took you promised that he's lazy and wouldn't even bat an eye at you, but as soon as your feet touched the floor, simon bumped you down on the parquet floor with his whole, heavy weight, pressing his rugged mug between your legs, huffing out a terrifying, pleases groan, his tail wagging left and right.

it's led to you almost clawing his eyes out, hissing and scurrying as far away from him as possible, threatening that you'll slice his face if he'd try it again, defensive little thing, a sight that pulls a lopsided grin to his pale lips, making your fur stand up on your ears and body, forgetting about trying to make up friends, knowing best than talking to this horny mutt.

yet simon plays it off, acts as apologetic as he can, tucking his excited tail between his burly legs, lowers his ears down, almost manages to do these honeyed, puppy eyes when he passes you across the house, getting under your fur, by helping you, giving you his sleeping place while the owner orders a new one for you, even stoles some treats for you from the kitchen.

anything, just to lower your awareness of him, making you warm up to an unruly mutt and feel comfortable with and beside him, pushing his inappropriate behavior to pure curiosity, seeing that he ain't trying to do something like that again, even through there's a sleazy murkiness to his eyes you can't piece together, until your heat doesn't hits you.

you come to him willingly, padding from your bedding to his, where he's all sprawled out, deep asleep with rumbling snores, and your mind to hazy to comprehend what's happening, why it's so hot, why you're all leaky between your furry, supple thighs, plopping beside him with loud, needy purrs, as you rub against his whole body, ass perched out with your pretty, curving spine.

simon knew you'd come, waited for your heat to struck, for you to seek him as your comforter, nuzzle your adorable face with whiny mewls in his thick palm, he's not a patient dog, and he won't torture you by acting like he's asleep, so he rises and tugs you close, pressing you into his bed, making you arch sweet and sharp enough to present your needy, fluttering hole, messy with dripping slick.

he eats your pussy properly, messes his whole maw with your slick and creamy cum, nose pressed in your silken, soaking fur, while he flattens his rough, thick tongue against your puffy folds and bumpy, swollen clit, slurping down on you when he nudges at your slit, licking further to your clenching hole, stuffing you with at least something for a short time, preparing you for his knot.

you welcome his chubby cock properly, your hole tight, yet so slick that simon is able to sheathe himself along your rippling, pulsing walls in couple of squelchy slides, flicking his finger against your throbby, little bud of nerves, looking at the way you purr and meow in pleasure as he stretches you out, filling you so full your soft, little tummy bulges out from his girth.

simon will knock you up, knot your tight pussy nice, making you claw at his wide shoulders while he slobbers over your fluffy, plump tits, rough tongue torturing your perky nipples, suckling wet kisses on your tender body, that would be even more so after he'd make sure you're pregnant with his chubby pups, as you keen his name and plead him to breed you.

ears pressed tight to your head, flicking at each pound of his engorged, fattening cock in your leaking hole, rutting his thickening tip against your cervix, your spongy spot rubbing against his veiny shaft rapidly, making you writhe, turning his wide, muscular back in a mess of bleeding crescent scratches, as your long tail wraps around his leg, brushing against his thumping one, accepting simon's popping knot with pitchy meows and gushy hole.

your pregnancy would be an owners problem by the morning, when he'd stumble across you tucked against simon's solid chest, purring in your peaceful slumber after being sufficiently filled with loads of potent, thick cum, morning air filled with guttural, protective growls and clogging scent of sex, and it's seems like it's wouldn't be easy to make simon stay away from you from now on.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Simon "Ghost" Riley and Your New Cat 🌷

simon having beef with a stray cat you brought home silly little idea i had no content warnings, just cute fluff, female reader :3 not proofread!

"What the hell is tha’?" he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared in disbelief at the little black kitten in your lap.

"I found him. He’s called Lettuce," you grin, cuddling the cat to your chest. You’re well aware that lettuce is a stupid name for a cat, but it just seemed right at the time. The kitten was tiny, and had seemed very weak when you’d discovered him shivering in a box outside your apartment block. Now, he seemed a lot more comfortable, making a little home for himself on your sweater. He was so small - he literally fit in the palm of your hand - but his frizzy black hair stuck out at every angle so that he looked less like a kitten and more like a wiry pompom.

"Love," Simon laughed, rubbing his face with a sigh, "Lettuce looks like a flea. Where the hell di’you find ‘im?"

"Oi, he does not! Well, maybe a bit. I found him in a box. He was meowing at me, he looked so cold…" you stroke the kitten’s cheek with your thumb as you he meows up at you.

"You can’t keep him, he might have diseases. You should give him to a pet shelter." Your boyfriend wasn’t being harsh, he was just worried about you - he didn’t want your little heart breaking because you’d got all attached to a poorly little kitten who might not last the week. But it didn’t come off like that.

"Wh… what..?" you frown, cupping the kitty in your hands to protect it.

"I’ll drive you to the shelter tomorrow, okay?"

"What? Si, no!"

"Baby…" he sighs, trying not to upset you "you can’t just find a scruffy animal on the street and take it home."

"S’what I did with you ," you pout, pulling the same face at him as Vegetable pulls at your sweater sleeve as he paws at it.

"Look," he crosses his arms, about to explain to you the reasons why you two don’t have the space for a cat, nor the prior knowledge. What if the cat walks in on the two of you in bed? What if it bites you and his pretty girl gets hurt? What if you end up loving the cat more than Simon and it steals you away? But your pleading eyes and the tiny, stupid looking kitten chirping in your laps convinces him. If you really wanted anything, you know he’d get it for you, so he’ll let you have your silly kitten.

"Alright, fine. For now." He laughs, ruffling his hair.

"I love you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love you!" you squeal, gently placing the cat down before jumping up with and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. He rubs your back softly, watching the stupid fluffy ball on the sofa chirp for your attention. Just because he’s letting you have the cat doesn’t mean he won’t see it as his mortal enemy.

The next morning, after having gone out to buy cat food for you, Simon is sitting on the sofa, softly kissing your neck from behind. You’re sitting in his lap… completely ignoring his affection in favour of the kitty.

"Si, look! He can walk!" you grin, holding the kitten up so it looks like it’s standing on two feet.

"Mhm… cute…" Simon mumbles into the nape of your next, a strong hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest. He is not watching the cat, he’s busy with you.

"I know right!" you ignore his advances still, gazing at your new pet with adoration, "I should make him a little hat, he’d look so sweet."

"Yeah, fuck, you’re so sweet…" Si keeps kissing you, moving between your neck and your shoulders, which are hidden inside his old tshirt.

"He’s so cute," you grin, stroking the back of the kitten’s head until it purrs, "I love him so much… he’s my baby."

That catches Simon off guard. He would never admit it to anyone, but he loves it when you call him your baby. He’s the only one you should be calling baby. This cat is stealing his girl. [gasp]

Si shoots the kitten a death stare.

"Oh yeah, he’s your baby?"

"Yeah, he’s the cutest…"

"Mhm. I’m sure," he pouts. When you’re not looking, he glares at the cat and points from his grey eyes to its little beady ones, like he’s trying to intimidate it.

A few days later, the two of you fall asleep together, with Simon spooning you and holding you close. But you forgot to shut the door. So your boyfriend is rudely awakened by a very small, scruffy kitten stomping on his chest.

"No, oi, get off of me," you can hear him grumbling sleepily as you start to stir, alongside the cute chirping of your kitty.

"Listen, Vegeta- cat. Stupid name anyways. We can’t have you disturbing the Mrs, alright?"

You can hear him pause until he hears the kitten meow softly in response.

"Tha’s right, soldier. She’s my Mrs, not yours, and if you so much as try to change that, I will never let you see her again. My girl. Mine," he pouts.

The kitten meows again, as if he’s responding to Simon’s orders. You have to try your hardest not to giggle, biting your lip in the dark as you listen to your big, tough boyfriend have an argument with a little kitten.

"Alright, now leave the lady alone." You almost think you can hear him plant a kiss on the cat’s head before he sets it down at the side of the bed.

You’re away for the weekend, visiting family, without your boys (Simon and the kitten). :(

Simon’s fine, he’s a tough guy, he has no issue being alone - that is, until he’s poorly and he needs you to cuddle him and make him tea. But you’re not there, and talking to you over the phone only makes him feel worse.

So he resorts to laying in bed, in the shade, trying to nap. Poor boy feels too ill to do anything else (he has the man flu).

With the back of his hand over his forehead, one leg over the covers and one leg under, not quite sure whether he’s awake or asleep, he closes his eyes and frowns. A little black ball hops up onto his bed, waking him up a little.

It plods around in a little circle, looking around and exploring its new environment. When Veggie spots Simon, he waddles over curiously, his little feet sinking into the soft duvet cover.

"Hey, cat," Simon smiles softly, watching the fluffy baby wander and get closer to his face. It looks up into his eyes, chirping, and brushes its fur against his cheek before settling into the crook of his neck.

He chuckles, closing his eyes as the tiny guy curls into a ball against him. The rivalry isn’t quite over for Simon, but that funny looking kitty is a little piece of you, and he’s happy to have its affection.

When you come home, it’s to the two of them, cuddled up on your bed. Silently, you change into a t-shirt and slip into bed behind Simon, planting a little kiss on his cheek.

"Told you he was cute."

how i imagine your kitten 💗

i spent way longer on this than i thought i would but it’s so cute and i loved writing it! hope you enjoy lovieeees

[reds-skull]

My mom named one of the street cats she feeds Tommy, so I thought to myself, "what if..."

[fallenneziah]

Thinking about Zombie!Ghost's body changing so his cock swells and knots when breeding to ensure impregnation to carry on the infected species.

Zombie!Ghost who ends up with his cock buried deep inside you for what feels like forever, semen filling your guts.

Zombie!Ghost attempting to get away from you for a minute but when realizing he's locked in is intent on snuggling you and loving on you.

Zombie!Ghost who is now committed to breeding nothing else and constantly wants to try and breed infected with you. Always sad when it doesn't work.

Zombie!Ghost who wants to kiss you while snuggling you, acting as his warm cock sleeve.

Zombie!Ghost whose instincts tell him to breed when he's anxious so he'll always be trying to hump you or get close. Making sad noises from his broken maw while trying to get any kind of friction with you.

Zombie!Ghost who does act a bit pathetic in his need to breed and having you so close, so ready for him. Especially through certain cycles on your journey with him he cannot keep his hands off you for anything.

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

Soap and Gaz: *Ribbing Ghost about some of his habits such as picking apart pre-made sandwiches to rearrange them or when he hears something unexpected and goes so completely still you'd think he's a statue*

Ghost: "At least I didn't have a werewolf phase"

Soap: *Genuinely scared for his life cause he was 13 when that happened so how THE FUCK did Ghost know that?* "WHAT?"

Gaz, also had a werewolf phase at 13: *stunned and doesn't know how to talk*

Price: *so only Ghost will hear* "at least I'm not dancing around my feelings with my subordinate"

Ghost, ready to murder: "I will end you and your ability to speak Russian"

Price: *backs away*

[remiebear]

Kitty meow meow cat meow meow wow

[yawnderu]

Realistic cat girl who doesn't like attention until she's in heat...?

Like usually a brat, yeah. But you know what cats are doing the second they're in heat? Ass in the face and SCREAMING.

Ghost goes and sits on the couch, cat!girl coming out immediately, Whining loudly, crawling into his lap and just sticking her butt into Simon's face and letting her arms hang off the couch, making air biscuits. All while just wiggling her hips, as if the position is much simon can work with.

(other than eating her out from the back <3)

Yes!! Simon's catgirl girlfriend absolutely dislikes his attention unless she's in heat💗

Simon's eyes were on you the moment you came strutting out of his bedroom, your hard nipples poking out of the shirt you were wearing— one of his shirts, which was still dirty and was previously in the laundry basket only to be dug out by your bratty paws.

He watches in amusement as you say nothing to him, simply offering him a half-lidded glare from over your shoulder as you set on his lap, flexible body taking a few seconds to switch positions, your bare ass right in his face, loud whines and purrs coming out of your body. He tries to move his head away, thinking it's simply one of your bratty displays of ''affection'', only realizing what's going on when you refuse to move, wiggling your hips in front of him.

“That bad, huh?” Simon teases, his calloused hand trailing up from your shoulders to your ass, seeing your back arch instinctively with his touch. You simply let out another loud whine until he gets the message, starting to lift up the shirt while his free hand keeps running up and down your spine.

“Fuckin' hell...” He whispers, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down when he realizes just how needy you are. He stares at your sopping pussy for a few seconds before adjusting your hips and leaning down, his tongue flicking out to taste your slick, his actions a mix of dominance and lust.

He can feel his cock getting hard from just tasting you, half-lidded brown eyes closing when he sees your arms hanging off the couch, fluffy paws making air biscuits while he eats you out. Your back arches just to press your pussy closer to his mouth, making Simon smirk as his tongue continues to lap at your sensitive cunt.

He shifts on the couch, his warm tongue delving deeper into your cunt, his actions becoming needier by the moment as if you're not the one who needs a proper fucking. His free hand comes up to spank your ass, only making your whines grow shamelessly louder.

“Dirty fuckin' thing, shoving your filthy cunt in my face...” He scolds playfully, wanting to see just how bad you were having it. Normally, you would've smacked him in the head with your paw for even looking at you for a bit too long, but right now? All you can do is whine, pushing your ass closer to his face.

“It's not filthy.” Your defiance shines through even when all your warm body needs is to get fucked by Simon, clenching around nothing when you think about having his thick, veiny cock inside you again. He lets out a soft chuckle before pushing you away from him gently, not even having the time to clean his mouth before you're straddling him, lips crashing against his as you rub your sopping cunt against his hardened cock, shamelessly tasting your own juices on his tongue.

[amustikas]

undefined

Tiny Soap rizzing up Ghost hardstyle!!

[h3llh0vnd]

[tojisun]

imagine travelling for your job and coming home to simon (big and beautiful and mia-for-two-months simon) holding your cat up like one would carry a baby. they’re standing by the balcony door in your living room, watching the people who are walking by.

“uhm,” you begin, shocked and exhausted. “what…”

simon turns just enough to meet your eyes. “m’teaching sasha how to be observant. little girl didn’t even blink when i walked in.”

“you don’t have keys to my place.” you lick at your chapped lips. “you shouldn’t have keys to my place.”

“i know,” he grunts, adjusting his hold on her. sasha just plops her head on his chest again, her tail slowly swaying behind her and her big eyes slow blinking at you.

you give her your own slow blink and you wish you could pick her up from simon’s arms but—and here’s the issue—you still don’t understand why he is here. why is he back?

“did you break into my home?” you finally ask, quiet and anxious.

simon just sniffs, patting sasha’s rear, and looks away. sasha lets out a purr.

“simon—!?”

[dmitriene]

simon riley that eventually gets his cat hybrid darling pregnant, it makes you all sleepy and lazy, carrying his offspring inside of you, and you both don't even know if they're going to be hybrids or just regular humans, but they give you a rather hard time, even without yet being born.

you're sleeping almost whole day, supple and round form curled in your shared bed with your fluffy tail encircling you, nuzzling against simon's pillow to breath in his scent, feeling content knowing that you reek of him, and he is as well.

when you awake, you either just padding around in sleepy haze, or nuzzling against simon all clingy and giddy, your hands encircling your round baby bump softly, little smile gracing your lips, as you purr in delight, so happy with the knowledge that you finally got pregnant by simon.

and he's caring about you, much more sweeter, putting all the teasing he had for you before aside, constantly lingering against your side, stroking behind your fluffy ears and at your growing bump, soft kisses and sugary words of adoration sent your way.

simon is nice even when you go all whiny and horny, rubbing your exposed, slick pussy all over his cock needily, needing him to just take you, and he gives you the most careful, tender sex, meaty cock stretching your pussy carefully, ramming into you shallowly, but enough for you to go brainless.

babble about how you want to be full forever, making it hard for him to hold back so he wouldn't rearrange your cunt completely, instead he hushes you with soft kisses against your drool coated lips, promising that he would give you more later, because you're already full with little ones.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[charliemwrites]

As promised some time ago: Gaz!

The new house is… well, you don’t dislike it. It’s beautiful, already renovated while you were busy selling the old house. Just new, unfamiliar. You’re unaccustomed to the noises it makes, the shadows it casts, the echoes off the walls.

You’re not too proud to admit (to yourself and your dogs) that you’re a bit of a chicken the first couple weeks. Too many nights watching spooky media about people living in walls or stalking new tenants — despite Skipper’s best efforts. So you keep one or more of the dogs with you at all times, fingers in their fur and lights on as you go. Ghost has been especially tolerant, leaning against your leg when the sun goes down and the house feels too strange.

You’ve always been grateful for the peace of mind that four huge wolf-dogs brings, but never more than now. With several sets of teeth surrounding your bed and guarding your locked doors, they’ve made the transition so much easier on your nerves.

The new forest behind the house is also some cause for concern. The first day you brought them home, you went out by yourself for quick inspection of the yard and immediate area. Sharp-eyed looking for glass, metal, or anything else dubious.

You came back to four extremely grumpy pups and were basically bullied out of leaving them alone again. Skipper was especially huffy that night.

But things feel like they’re beginning to settle. You’ve gotten a bigger couch, bigger floor cushions. There’s a second story to this new house — or more of a half-floor really. A loft? It consists of the master bedroom, master bathroom, and a sort of open-spaced landing that you’re using as a satellite collection zone for toys.

Sometimes, when you’re on the couch, you’ll catch a bit of movement and get spooked by one of the boys staring from the railing that overlooks the den. Have fussed at wagging Johnny twice now for it.

Still, the transition to your new home has been as smooth as you could ask for with four giant, protective dogs. You miss the old place a bit; have the irrational fear that you’re going to miss another displaced dog in need of a home, but you try not to think about it.

Maybe you should have thought about it a little more.

One evening, you let the boys out for their pre-bed potty. There’s a cup of chamomile tea in your hand, a blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. Winter will be setting in soon. It’s already cold enough to set your teeth on edge. Never mind that it’s been raining all day, only just letting up to light patter at sunset.

Commotion at the edge of the (much larger) yard catches your attention. All of your boys seem to be gathered around something. They’re not barking or growling, and from the dim porch light, you don’t see hackles raised but still. Anything that catches their attention is worth investigating.

Cursing under your breath, you set your mug aside, slip into some shoes, and snatch up your phone for the flashlight. It’s only when you’re halfway there that you remember to pray that it’s not something dead. Or dying. Or creepy.

“Please don’t let this be a spooky doll or something,” you whisper to yourself.

Skipper must hear you, because his head pops up. He doesn’t… look concerned. But he’s a dog, how would he know that something in the yard is of human concern?

He trots away from their little congregation to meet you, almost like he’s escorting you to whatever they’re gathered around. You realize why when the flashlight illuminates a ball of soaked fur.

“Oh,” you breathe, “oh no…”

You gently nudge Konig aside to kneel down, a dry sob bubbling up in the back of your throat when you hear a quiet, miserable mew. A pair of brilliant green eyes squint and shy from the light, wide and sad.

“Oh, baby,” you coo. “Please come here. C’mon.”

You slowly, carefully extend a hand. Palm up, just a couple fingers. You’re not as familiar with cats anymore, but you remember enough to know that there‘ll be no scooping it up, even if it needs help. It’ll have to come to you of its own accord.

Relief floods you when you get the briefest cursory sniffle, and then the kitty is bumping its head against your hand for a scritch. You take a moment to pet what you can, heart breaking a bit with each shiver in the cold.

You keep coaxing it closer, gentle words and patient petting, getting bolder with your touch. When it’s finally close enough, the faintest purr rattling in its chest, you decide to try.

Apart from a nervous glance, the cat remarkably tolerant about letting you wrap your now-wet blanket around it, then scooping it up.

“Oof, you’re a big kid, huh?” You mutter, pausing to get a better hold. The darkness and hunkering down to preserve body heat was deceptive. This cat feels huge. “That’s alright, I’m used to it.”

You breathe a huge sigh when you enter the house again. It’s toasty inside — or at least it feels that way after sitting in the cold rain for fifteen minutes.

The boys files in after you, politely shaking off at the door before stepping into the mudroom. (Another upgrade you’ve been extremely grateful for.

You pause, try to get your bearings. You’ve got four soaked dogs, one possibly hypothermic cat, and you.

Christ, sometimes you wish you had an extra pair of hands.

“Okay. Let’s get the heater first.”

It’s already going, so you just turn it up a bit more, warm enough to start drying everyone. Then you go to the cupboard, sparing an arm from your oversized bundle to extract a towel.

You cross back to the heater and sit down, gently nestling your cat-burrito into the well of your legs.

The same big green eyes blink up at you, another mewl comes from it.

“Hi,” you croon, “isn’t that better already? Much warmer in here.”

You present the towel for inspection, let it sniff and decide it’s non-threatening before gently wiping it along the clumped fur. The dogs, to your surprise, don’t crowd to investigate. Skipper stops by to give the cat a sniff, before ultimately flopping down against your hip. But the other three arrange themselves around you, watching, but giving you and the kitty some space.

Remarkably thoughtful of them, and you tell them as much, praising their good behavior. The kitty, in the meantime, just… stares. It’s been a long time since you interacted with one, but you don’t remember your grandma’s tabby being so…

“Can I help you, little one?” You ask, grinning when it blinks at you slowly. You brush a finger under its chin, grinning when its eyes go half-lidded and nearly cross. “You’re worse than my Johnny boy with the staring.”

You receive a huff for that and laugh softly, making kissy noises at him until his tail thumps against the absorbent floor mat.

The cat is back to staring, though, ears up. You hum and keep up the half-scratching, half-drying technique until its fur starts to fluff up and you can take proper stock of the animal you’ve just rescued.

You weren’t kidding about it being big. Biggest cat you’ve ever seen — you’d almost think it was wild if not for the sweet face. You’re sure you might have seen the breed somewhere before…

Maine coon, maybe? Or… Siberian something or other? It’s fluffy, that’s for sure. But even without all the fluff that’s beginning to poof out like a dirty cotton ball, it’s a big cat. Big enough to be an average dog.

You huff in amusement that more it dries out.

“You look like a little storm cloud,” you giggle. “Well, little being relative.”

You receive a more normal-sounding meow for that. It thrills you that it’s already sounding better. Less sad, for sure.

The purring even start up again, developing into a deep hum like a running motor. It’s instantly soothing, the same way listening to the dogs’ breathing is. It lulls you until you’re nearly dozing sitting up. Only the wet nose of Skipper against your cheek rousing you.

“Jesus, right,” you say, jolting. Take a drowsy look around. All the boys seem dry or mostly dry. The only damp spot left on your new feline friend seems to be the feet, which won’t take much longer. “Let’s get inside proper.”

You lock up the mudroom and turn the heater low again, then urge everyone into the den. The cat doesn’t even hesitate, threading cleverly between your moving legs as you shuffle to the kitchen.

You prep an extra bowl of food and leave it up for the cat where the dogs can’t get it. Give it one last stroke from head to tail before trudging for the bathroom.

Normally, you’d be more concerned about leaving a cat in a house full of dogs. But the boys proved already that they have no interest in hurting the cat, despite the earlier crowding. Figure there are plenty of places to hide if they do make the kitty uncomfortable regardless.

The hot shower only serves to thicken the drowsiness blanketing you, leaving you heavy-lidded and sluggish. You pull the curtain aside to the usual audience of huge eyes, a new pair among them — the cat perched on the bathroom sink.

When you lean to grab your towel, they stick their face close for a sniff and you pause, always patient for curious creatures. When the little nose gets too close to your mouth, you twist and drop a quick peck to its snout before leaning back. The flabbergasted look makes you laugh as you begin toweling off.

“What a funny little thing you are,” you coo. “Would you like to be mind.”

“Mrrrow!”

“Yeah, I made a good first showing, huh?”

You have absolutely zero supplies for a cat, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, you just want to climb into bed and conk out. Home-making and animal-saving takes a lot out of you.

As always, the furry procession to your room leaves you warm and happy. Johnny always the first to hop into bed, licking your shoulder when you climb in beside him. Konig takes your other side, much more willing to snuggle now that you have the California King mattress to accommodate your pack. Ghost licks at Skipper’s chin in the doorway, then jumps up to lie by your hip, cuddling Johnny.

Skipper comes up last, padding over to receive one last kiss from you before lying by your feet, on the side closest to the door. You’re less concerned about kicking him now with the extra room, and enjoy the heat for your toes.

You almost startle at the soft thump next to your head. Turn and blink to see big green eyes blinking down at you, a purr nearly rattling your brain.

“Oh, hi,” you murmur, “make yourself at home.”

The cat does just that, curling himself onto a pillow and pressing his forehead into your neck. You nearly melt as you flick off the light. It’s warm and quiet and dark, just the breathing of warm bodies and soft tap of rain.

“I love you all so much,” you whisper, fingers threading into Konig’s coat. “My loves.”

The house’s new echoes are still unfamiliar, so it’s just a product of being half-asleep that makes you think you hear voices in the middle of the night.

Main Story | Price pt. 2

Masterlist

[felixeis003]

Sketch dump with prompts from @soap-brain

[sgt-tombstone]

I’m so tempted to write a shifter fic where Ghost is a big cat (I’m thinking black panther or something similar) shifter… but he doesn’t know it

He thinks that he’s not a shifter at all because he only shifts in his sleep and even when he’s startled awake, he shifts back in a split second, before his brain can even register not being human

It makes him a fantastic sniper, because he has better vision than a human, even if he doesn’t realize it. It gives him excellent hearing, but he doesn’t know that it’s better than everyone else’s (at least, not to a suspicious degree). His eyes flash in the dark, but he’s never seen it because he avoids mirrors like the plague. He thinks that his fast reflexes are just army trained instead of innate. He has a strong prey drive, but he reasons that it’s just his job as a CT operative; they hunt for a living. He genuinely does not know that he’s a shifter, and the rest of the 141 refuse to tell him (Price because having a big cat prowling around base would be worse than Ghost already is… Soap and Gaz because they have a three-year-long bet to see how long it’ll take him to figure it out)

Soap is some sort of dog shifter (because I’m basic like that) and Ghost makes fun of him all the time, both for being a shifter and for being a stereotype of his animal self. Gaz always dies laughing and Ghost can tell that Soap is holding back laughter too, but he can never figure out why…