moo

occasional fanfics | mdni pls and thanks | 20 | asks are open!

[moo-stlyhere]

MASTERLIST

greetings!! i write fics based mostly on my mood and what i'm into at the moment, but i'm always up for a good request. not big on writing smut, but there may be some sprinkled here and there, so mdni please.

on ao3 as bearpawz

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

CoD

Fics (over 1k words)

The Formation - tf 141 x reader, hybrid au, lil bit of backstory

Fawning - tf141 x reader, hybrid au

Fawning Pt. 2

Serpent Shenanigans - hybrid!tf141, serpent!reader

Unfortunately, That's Your Captain - shifter!Price, human!Reader

More Serpent!Reader - hybrid!tf141, serpent!reader

Estrus - bear!Price x deer!Reader, smut

Reconnaissance of The Heart - ghost x soap

monkey business - bear!Price x lemur!Reader

That’s Still Your Captain, Quit Petting Him - bear shifter!price x lance corporal!reader

Male kangaroo!reader - x bear!Price

Drabbles (under 1k words)

Stay - hybrid!tf141, doberman!gaz

Coyote Yips - hybrid!tf141, coyote!soap

Dad Force 141 Headcanons - dad!tf141

[moo-stlyhere]

been having the worst POTS flareup with this summer heat, so writing has been on the back burner. that being said, i did discover an old Michael Jackson fanfic i had wrote years ago. with the biopic and everything, i thought it would be fun to edit/update the fic and actually post it. that's a lot more manageable than writing from scratch at the moment lol

it's an x-reader (female) and the premise is that you get dragged into a set right before the thriller era. it's a little slow to build and spans through the thriller era, so i've got the link to ao3 down below if you want to check it out <3

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

[moo-stlyhere]

chapter 2 has been edited and posted

[moo-stlyhere]

been having the worst POTS flareup with this summer heat, so writing has been on the back burner. that being said, i did discover an old Michael Jackson fanfic i had wrote years ago. with the biopic and everything, i thought it would be fun to edit/update the fic and actually post it. that's a lot more manageable than writing from scratch at the moment lol

it's an x-reader (female) and the premise is that you get dragged into a set right before the thriller era. it's a little slow to build and spans through the thriller era, so i've got the link to ao3 down below if you want to check it out <3

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

[seirxi]

deleted episode sketch, thought id share the tokoyami crumbs

[ironcy]

the people (me) yearn for hizashi angst

[moo-stlyhere]

Wanted to say that I did not mean to stop posting for almost two whole months. Spring semester is a beast, so I didn’t have much time to write. That being said, I fear that I may not have much of an interest in cod at the moment. I haven’t consumed any media/fandom related content in a hot minute, so I feel like I am mischaracterizing left and right.

I’ll still write any requests I get for cod, but it may take me a little longer than I’d like. Some other fandoms are calling my name, so that’s where most of my focus is going to be. Also going to update my masterlist because that thing has been sorely neglected

[moo-stlyhere]

ram!reader

request from @runicepochdragon for ram!reader that's hard headed (literally) and enjoys a good headbutt to the wall. sorry for the ram puns, but it was kind of unavoidable here lol

also took a general headcanon approach to this because anything i wrote in paragraph form did not want to be coherent. male reader implied, too.

Coyote!Soap is having a hay day with this

I mean, come on… two curling horns poking out from the side of your head? Yeah, that’s free bones for him to gnaw on

You only let him chew on the ends of your horns when they get too long because the process of getting them filed is a sensory nightmare

For some reason he really loves to spar with you for the sole purpose of being headbutted. You never do it too hard, just enough to knock the wind out of him. He’s a weird guy

He doesn’t know this, but you keep saying yes to his sparring requests because it allows you to assert your dominance over him. Soap sees it as play, so it’s kind of a win-win situation here

Actively cheers you on when you ram into things to let off steam. Immediately turned tail and ran when there was a suspiciously oblong hole in the wall of the gym. No way was he getting caught up in that

Doberman!Gaz thinks it's weird that Soap uses your horns as a chew toy. He’s seen those suckers take the life out of a person’s eyes in a second. Do not get near him with those

He will begrudgingly let you rub your horns over his arms or back when you think your scent is starting to wear off. He has the weakest pack instincts of the bunch, but he knows how ornery you get when your herd doesn’t smell like you

Poor Gaz was genuinely befuddled beyond belief the first time he saw you running into a wall repeatedly. He waited until you were done to warily approach you

“...Are you okay?”

Blinked at you with the most blank expression when you said that’s just what you do.

Internally questioned every authority when you mentioned that the brick wall was built specifically for the hybrids like you on base

“Don’t concuss yourself.” Then went straight to Price to debrief what he had seen

Bear!Price is able to take your headbutting at almost full force. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him, but that guy is stout. The bear dna strengthens his muscles somehow

He has to step in when Soap is unable to recognize his body’s limits. Price will let him pass out at least two times, but his turn is ultimately over when bruises start to bloom over his chest and stomach

Price actively discourages you from ramming into the walls. To be fair, it probably was annoying to listen to the thumping when he was trying to go to sleep since your room shares a wall with his

If your neck is sore and head feeling heavy from carrying around all that extra weight? He’s got you.

Price naps so much, especially during winter, and he doesn’t mind the extra weight of you resting your head and horns on him. The weight helps him sleep deeper, and you get to relax for a bit, so it works out quite nicely

Raccoon!Ghost likes to get you in trouble. You're a living battering ram, so how was he not supposed to send you through doors first? Nevermind the fact Price told him to use the actual battering ram. You seemed to get a kick out of it, so he kept doing it

Do not use your horns when sparring with him, though. He thinks it’s a cheap move and will not hesitate to rip you to shreds with his claws in return. In his mind, this is really just pitting one hybrid’s abilities against another’s, so it’s fair

Encourages you to slam that noggin against any surface. Unlike Soap, however, Ghost sticks around for the aftermath. He enjoys the freaked out look on your face when you break something that you definitely shouldn’t have

Secretly likes when you bleat at him

Look, it’s something he’ll take to the grave with him, but Ghost really enjoys the dissonance of your entire being when you bleat. He knows you can be a volatile weapon of war, so to hear you make a sound associated with the most innocent of creatures? It pleases him

[moo-stlyhere]

more male kangaroo please

huzzah, im here to fulfill your wishes. male kangaroo!reader pt. 2. the premise is also a request from @runicepochdragon

check out part one if you wish, but not entirely necessary to enjoy this on its own.

roughly 1.3k words

You were going insane. You had to be. Several months had passed, and you were very much settled into the task force, yet these fuckers decided to start being pests again. At least Ghost was smart enough to not aggravate you to the point of throwing punches now, but he was still…

Still a massive dickhead.

It got worse when everyone knew they were being shipped out to do some dirty work. A rushed call came in on a rather calm Thursday night to disrupt the peace, sending the appropriate units down the halls and to the assigned vehicles. It was the same old scenario you were familiar with – get in, get the goods, and get out.

You weren’t told the specifics in the heat of the moment, just where you would be. It wasn’t like you could listen very well, anyways, what with how everyone seemed to be shoulder checking you as they put their gear on. The back of the humvee wasn’t even cramped, so you knew they were doing it on purpose.

Price looked from face to face as he barked out orders. You were supposed to make up the tail end of the route to ensure there were no ways for the men to be spotted. That was easy enough. You nodded once in conformation, shooting a nasty glare to your left where Ghost was adjusting his gun rather roughly.

You were pushed out of the vehicle, jumping out of the way before Soap and Gaz could dogpile onto you. That didn’t stop the former from going out of his way to shove his nose against your shoulder before trotting off. Gaz gave a soft punch to your shoulder as he passed. It would have normally been a friendly gesture, but it served to get your hackles raised.

The first hour was a breeze. Price and Gaz maneuvered the area while Ghost and Soap made quick and clean work of anyone in the way. There wasn’t much for you to do besides keep an extra sharp eye and ear out. Maybe the lack of activity was why you got so insanely startled when a hand clamped onto your upper arm.

You were flagging around a corner when the sudden grip took you by surprise. Your back was turned to the rest of the 141, so the first fleeting thought that ran through your head was that it was one of them. Who was ahead of you? Soap, right?

That thought was what made your actions worse than they were. It wasn’t Soap, but by the time you had been forcibly spun around and shoved against the wall with the muzzle of a gun to your temple, you were barely able to process that it wasn’t him. You acted on the first two emotions that surged through you: rage and fear.

Rage at being subdued once again and fear from the cold metal pressing into your skin. There was a split second of absolutely no other thoughts in your head, causing you to force your weight onto your tail and lean back as best as you could.

The kick was hard. It was definitely too hard for if it had actually been Soap. You had done CPR, so you knew it took a lot of pressure to crack ribs. The deep, aching noise of splintered bone echoed off the brick walls and was followed by the sound of the body skidding across the asphalt beneath your feet. 

Soap had already turned and pointed his gun at the offender’s head, but you beat him to it. Four hurried steps and a frantic downward strike of your heel later, and it was done. There was a collective pause afterwards, and the silence was deafening. All eyes were on you, and it wasn’t because you had someone else’s blood splattered up your pant leg.

“Christ…” Simon was the first to speak. It was a weak mutter but was strengthened with a short chuckle. “Not messin’ with you again. At least not by surprise.”

“You got that right,” Gaz lightheartedly agreed. As the force pushed forward, Price was the only one to see the way you stared at the back of Soap’s head with a hollow expression. Everyone else moved on.

–

That was that for the following week. There were considerably less situations where you were being roughhoused for no reason. No one noticed how you kept your distance from Soap. It was assumed you were still giving him the cold shoulder for all that biting he had done, but that was far from it. Every time you looked at him, a chilling guilt washed over you.

Price noticed. Damn him, he always notices. You were thankful that he didn’t step in right away, but that didn’t mean you weren’t irritated when he did say something. It was a late night in the commons after everyone had headed off to bed. You were about to leave the room, too, when a particularly gruff yet gentle voice called out.

“Hey.”

You turned to blink at Price, who nodded towards the spot on the couch next to him.

“C’mere for a minute. Got matters to discuss with you.”

It wasn’t easy sitting next to Price. The room was uncomfortably quiet, and he kept staring at you like he could telepathically get the answers to his questions. Thirty seconds was all you could handle. “What’s up?”

“You’re mopey.”

“...I am?”

Price grumbled in the same way he always did when he was getting tired. Fucking bear was always tired. Was it of you this time?” “You are. Specifically when you get around MacTavish. Mind explaining why that is?”

“Right to the point, I see…” You explained the whole mess through listless words, attempting to shrug it off. You told Price how you thought that guy was Soap at first, and how it didn’t click until he was one foot through death’s door that he wasn’t. You told him how it felt considerably harder to get him fully out of the equation knowing it could have been Soap.

You told Price that you genuinely feared you would kill one of them if they pissed you off too much. “I need anger management,” you sighed.

Two paws curled around your shoulders and pulled you in as Price laid on his back. You were starting to fight his bear hugs less and less now. Especially when he let you curl the end of your tail around his calf. Now, as he nuzzled his nose by the base of your ear and your limbs went pliant, you couldn’t fight back even if you wanted to.

“You don’t need anger management. You're a kangaroo. A buck, no less, so being pissed off is supposed to be your natural state. Why do you think I fought to get you in here with us?” Price wrapped his arms around your torso and squeezed. The pressure didn’t make you flip out like it normally did. You felt safe with him.

“We’ll get your hormone levels checked out if it's bothering you that much,” he offered as a solution. “Getting you on some meds can even out that hostility. If it’s any count, I don’t think you’d kill one of us. Break a bone? Sure. We all deserve it every now and then.”

He shifted a little, effectively wedging you between his body and the cushions of the couch. His hand snaked up to the back of your head to bring your nose to his neck. The scent of him mixed with everyone else, yourself included, made your eyelids droop. Price smiled, but you couldn’t see it.

“You’re bonded to us, after all. Your instincts won’t let you kill us. You’re going to be fine, roo.”

[moo-stlyhere]

request from @runicepochdragon (i'm working on that other one, too)

gotta preface and say that i really don't know much about Sherlock Holmes, but buddy boy did i try to not make this a complete nothing burger. i haven't consumed much cod fandom material lately so i feel rusty, BUT! i will prevail

1.1k words

There was a reason you were rarely assigned to go on trailing missions. There wasn’t enough excitement and adrenaline for your legs to work at the same speed as the others. When it came down to it, you were stationed in the vehicles to monitor and give insight on where the target was heading. When the flu ran through the base like wildfire, knocking out most of the teams that would normally be sent out, the entire notion of “don’t send the sloth” went right out the window.

It was a rag-tag group that was assembled. Price and Ghost were the only members of the 141 to not fall ill, so they were immediately chosen to be the brawn. There were two other Privates, as well, but they were mostly there as extra eyes to keep on the target. And then there was you.

You assumed you would be taking your usual role in the back of the getaway vehicle – monitoring surveillance cameras and giving directions through comms. When you didn’t make a move to get out and Price grunted at you, something along the lines of “you comin’?”, you did the world’s slowest double take. He still dragged your ass out of the truck, even though you tried to argue that someone needed to stay back.

The Privates audibly groaned as you clambered onto the street. Nearly everyone hated working with you. In the military, speed was of vast importance. Who wanted to be stuck with one of the slowest hybrids? Even turtle hybrids managed to move faster than you did, and they got a sick shell to act as biological armor. You just got claws and an energy tank that was constantly running on empty.

Ghost took the Privates, scruffing one of them and nudging the other in the back, and started for the east side of the city. You and Price made for the west. You really did try to get your legs to move like this was a life or death situation, but you knew deep down that it wasn’t. Your nature told you to lay low and preserve what stamina you had, and you had no choice but to comply with the shackles that were biology. Thankfully, Price was apt to slow down and stroll beside you at your own pace.

Ghost saw the target first. He called it over comms, and you went straight to making a mental map of the city and each possible turn they could make. Price stopped to do the same, but you were quicker about figuring out the most likely route. You looked around the city square, judged each alley by width, darkness, and position to activity, and knew.

“Someone needs to follow from afar, and someone else needs to circle by the street in front of the bank to get to the alley by the ice cream shop. If he’s coming from that way, that’s the most likely area he’ll end up at,” you called over comms. You heard the crackle of a reply and the faintest noise from Ghost before one of the Privates cut him off.

“Yeah, sure. But if he thinks fast enough, he’ll be able to bypass the alleys and blend into the crowd. You gotta be quicker than him.” A blatant dig at your speed, both mentally and physically. An annoyed, blank look washed over your face. Ghost and Price hashed out the next course of action between them while you wandered to the edge of the plaza and behind a street performer. 

“Alright,” Price gruffed, his voice drowned out by the music coming from the speakers nearby. He shifted his weight from leg to leg, observing you in a way not many did. With his eyes squinted in concentration and a hand on his own shoulder, he nodded down at you. “That specific alley, what’s so special about it? Explain.”

You balked for a second, mouth opening and then closing. It was rare for anyone besides those on your own specialized team to inquire about your train of thought. Grateful for the moment to prove yourself, you went into a spiel about how you came to your conclusion.

“First off, the guy is a smuggler. He has specific people he’s interested in finding, so he’ll prefer to stay away from super crowded areas where it’s hard to keep track of who’s who. Also, it’s the dead of winter. Not many people visit ice cream shops in the morning during winter, so that specific area is most likely to be the least populated.

And that alley, from what I can see here, is a dead end. If we can trap him, instead of the other way around, we have a better chance of successfully getting him into custody. Ghost would do best trailing from afar, because he’s the only one of us dressed in all black. He can slip into the shadows easier and get up close quickly if he needs to.”

“How do you know he’s going that way instead of out of the city or on the north street?” Price shot back. Not with an accusatory tone, like you had no clue what you were talking about, but with a probing interest.

“He wouldn’t leave the city. Intel said he took public transport in, and the next bus is due in twenty minutes. It’s too long of a walk to get anywhere valuable by the time the bus arrives. As for going north, there’s a road block that way. The street is closed to all thru traffic. That’s why the plaza is so busy today.”

Silence. Price’s hand on his shoulder fell to his hip as he looked in the direction of the area you had just described. He didn’t say anything, and you started to sweat. You, personally, wouldn’t be able to get there in time, but the plan could still be enacted by the others. Especially when everyone else had a quicker hybrid type.

“It’ll work. Privates, move out.” You startled at Ghost’s voice in your ear. A cheeky grin split Price’s face, and he patted your shoulder before moving past you and into his own presumed position. His thumb ran over the collar of your jacket – right where the clip for your comms was. The spot his hand was resting on his own body while he listened to you explain.

“I figured you knew what you were talking about. You wouldn’t be able to make it this far if you didn’t have something to make up for your physical speed. Good work, detective.”

You didn’t magically gain the understanding from everyone that you were actually smart, but at least two of the best soldiers on base were convinced of your mental prowess. Price even made an informal request for you to be swapped over to doing inside work for deciphering intel and forming infiltration strategies. You weren’t magically renowned as the genius little strategizer you were, but it was an improvement.

[vetckkie]

girl get off that c.ai and embrace the 'x reader'

[moo-stlyhere]

Bork.

Serpent reader brain worms are infectious 😭 I had an idea yesterday at work and went to jot it down and my brain went blank 😐

Anyway, how would 141 react to a Green-headed Tanager (above) hybrid?

Oh boy. You have no idea how much I love bird-like characters. I could talk about them for days on end. rip serpent reader idea

Soap is having the most fun with a hybrid like this. You’re small and fast, so it’s insanely fun to chase you around (even if you lowkey hate it). But when he first saw your wingspan in full? Mesmerized. Vibrant blues and greens shimmying as you fluff out your wings, stretching them after a long mission. And then there’s Soap standing nearby with perked ears and a still tail. He’s staring at a living kaleidoscope, after all. You always try to pick up your feathers when it’s molting season, but sometimes you’ll leave one or two lying around for Soap to discover and add to his collection that he totally pretends he doesn’t have.

Gaz absolutely loves doing field work with you. It gets a little tricky trying to conceal the neon of your feathers at times, but he came up with the genius idea of taping your feathers to your skin under your shirt (think like binder tape). And if you ever have to do any stalking in a densely forested area, or anything that resembles the wooded areas of Brazil, Gaz rallies to send you out first. You blend in and are naturally able to navigate the landscape, and Gaz quite enjoys being able to tail you from the ground as you move higher up in the trees.

Ghost, I think, wouldn’t give a single shit about what kind of hybrid you are until you chirp. He physically stuttered to a halt when you peeped at him in the middle of an argument, putting a hand up to stop you from speaking and muttering about how you sound like a “fucking laser”. For such an intense little hybrid, Ghost wasn’t expecting you to sound like a damn squeaky toy. Now, you can’t even get a little bit combative with him because he knows you squeak when you’re mad, and he never takes you seriously once it happens.

Out of everyone, Price had the hardest time being okay with you doing close range combat. You were fast, yeah, but he couldn’t get past the horrifying knowledge that most of your bones were hollow. After some persuasion, he agreed to send you in first to flag an area. He should have known better, because Price knew that you flared your wings out when you concentrated. It was a shit habit that you needed to break, because it lead to you getting spotted first and a steel door shut on your right wing. Price never forgot the sound of several bones crunching at once or how you kept trying to flutter the injury off despite being in obvious pain. He was pissed about the paperwork, pissed at himself for letting you go in first, and thoroughly disgruntled with how stupidly injured birds dealt with themselves. You were stuck with mostly investigative work after that.

[moo-stlyhere]

will you make more hybrid kangaroo reader👀👀👀

Yes!! I’m finishing up my midterms and then am getting straight into writing over spring break. Kangaroo reader will resurface, I swear

[rokosbasalisk]

Short headcannon/fic related to this post regarding mine and @moo-stlyhere Serpent! Reader

A/N: My serpent reader is on the older side with greying hair, but please feel free to change it to fit yourself.

If you want to read more about World Serpent! Reader (these links are in no order, so just read them however. You can also just go in Mine and Moo's blogs and search up 'Serpent')

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 /

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

It has been a few months since you were banned from getting back in the old ocean simulator, a fact you later revealed from a Nurse shark hybrid because they were complaining about having less space for the taskforce's marine hybrids.

So you were, and rightfully so, rather ticked off about having to stay in human form for the unforeseeable future, not that it mattered in the long run as you always snuck out to the nearby lake with the other fish hybrids.

The only good thing was that it gave you time to get used to having hands and feet again, and to actually not smell of seaweed for once, which is always an upside.

So you were just helping out anyone with Marine drills (with plenty of bribery of Mahi Mahi and Ox Heads, of course) when you were called over by Soap for the little treat that he snuck you while his superiors were too busy to reprimand him.

"Open wide, aye? Cap'n requested I try an' get a photo of ye teeth to go on yer file." The coyote said, half-glad that the bear hadn't bitten his head off too much, as he raised a Mahi Mahi up in the sky, just out of reach from your hands.

As you opened your mouth, Soap took a photo with his phone, making sure to take one with the flash for better lighting. It wasn't until the flash went off that he caught sight of the small shining dot on your tongue, by which Ghost had silently slotted next to him.

"Problem, Johnny?" The raccoon hybrid eventually said, noting the look of confusion on the younger canine's face as he zoomed in and out on the photo.

"Aye, Si. There's something bouncing on the fish's tongue. Cannae figure out what though." The coyote grumbled, head tilted to the side and tail dropped slightly, "I mean, we've seen their serpent form plenty. Hell, Gaz and I got up close to their mouth and there wasn't anything shiny there."

The raccoon squinted at you for a few minutes, trying to figure out what it could be, before gruffly adjusting his mask, "Oi, Open yer mouth again, tongue out."

No niceties or beating around the bush, just commandments, typical Simon.

You opened your mouth, forked tongue coming out to a rest just past your lips, the rare English sunlight bouncing off the small tongue piercing. Shaped like a snake and encrusted with CZ stones along its back.

"Tongue piercing, Thought so. The only thing it could've been logically." Ghost states, rubbing his chin, quickly grabbing a photo for the record, as not much was known about your human form, "You can put it away now."

Contrasting to the Lieutenant's calm demeanour, Soap was standing there with his eyes wide, mouth agape as his brain tried to compute the revelation. A perfect statue, as if father time just shirked off his duty for today. The only indication he was alright was the sudden perking up of his ears as an excited bark left the Scotsman, "Ye have a piercing? Where does it go when yer a big fish? Does it stay?"

you take a deep breath dragging a hand across your weathered face, not really used to such an energetic reaction in your advanced age, "Calm down, Sarge. I just take it out before I shift. Don't really want it covered in algae or rusting from the salt water."

"...eh?" Is the only sound that comes out of the pairs mouths, having not thought about about that. A few elongated minutes pass before Ghost coughs and tries to play it off, "S'pose that makes sense. But doesn't the wound heal back up when you shift?"

Oh boy, sounds like there's going to be another round of testing to figure out how that works, or you're just enjoying their confusion a bit too much to just tell them that you just re-pierce your tongue with the only thing that actually damages you.. your own teeth.

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

A/N: aaannd done! finally got this one out after.. months. I couldn't decide if mythological hybrids (Dragons, harpies etc) would heal their injuries through shifting or not.

Please let me know of any errors with grammar or spelling :)

[moo-stlyhere]

Will we get more of World Serpent Reader? I enjoy reading about them lol

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

🐠🐟🦞

🐍

More world serpent will make an appearance at some point!

I just have to sit down and write instead of procrastinating…

[moo-stlyhere]

will we get more of kangaroo reader 🥹

yes!! i’ve got some in the works, I’ve just been major busy with college. roo reader will absolutely return 🫶

[moo-stlyhere]

Bark!

I just wanted to warn you that I think @rokosbasalisk is stealing people's works and passing it off as theirs, their serpent reader is suspiciously the same as yours.

I've reported them and told them to stop stealing works, so hopefully they'll get the message that plagiarism isn't cool 😒

yo woah hold up. their serpent reader is the same as mine, because the serpent reader is their idea. there’s no plagiarism to be had here. (we’ve tagged each other in pretty much every post regarding serpent, anyways)

[bramblebunnie]

Hybrid Reader who got picked up by the 141, shivering on the side of the road

You looked "delightfully pathetic" in Soap's words, soaked to the bone from the rain, fur/feathers patchy and filthy from countless days trying to survive- so of course they just Had to take you home, get you a warm bath, some thicker clothes, and get you addicted to their soft petting and comforting cuddles

Now, months later, they are kinda regretting that

You've flourished into a massive cuddle bug, and you will wander the base crying at the top of your lungs until you find one of them and proceed to demand they give you your daily dose of snuggles, no matter if they spent the entire night cuddling you- Gaz was your favorite target, the man almost always up to carrying you on his hip or back as he went about his day, folding to your wet eyes and pleading even if he was in the middle of something

"separation anxiety" some of the medics said, "like a velcro baby, you need to foster distance"

So he tried

He started shutting his door at night, ensuring you couldn't sneak into his room so you'd be forced to either go to the others or sleep in your own bed. It was for the best, he thought, fighting his own impulses to let you in when you scratched sadly at his door and made the most heartbreaking cries. It stopped after a few days, and Gaz thought that it had worked.

It did not

Gaz figured out you had learned to open doors when he woke up to your weight on his chest, almost tucked entirely under his blanket, happy as could be and not planning on moving anytime soon.

So he locked his door.

Same as last time, scratching, heartbreaking cries, but this time with the horror movie ambience of his doorknob rattling as you tried to get in. Nightmares aside, Gaz had a good feeling about this.

You learned to pick locks.

He startled awake as his doorknob rattled again, louder than the last few minutes, before it suddenly went quiet. Over his own breathing, Gaz could just barely hear quiet scraping, the doorknob jerking for a moment, before it turned, and his bedroom door sloooowly creaked open. Your silhouette, barely distinguishable from the pitch black of the hallway, stood in the opened doorway, your eyes reflecting red from the minimal light coming through his bedroom window, locked on Gaz.

As you crawled into his bed, making sweet little sounds like you hadn't just become Gaz's personal sleep paralysis demon, Gaz knew he needed to change his method.

The next night, door locked and his 10lb dumbbells in front of it to pin it closed, Gaz thought he'd won

Then you managed to push it open, huffing and puffing, but you squeezed your way in through the gap and made your displeasure known

He added more weights, putting a 20lb disk weight under the dumbbells, hoping the combined 40lbs would stop you

You pushed that aside too

After the third added weight, and 100 total pounds, Gaz was slumped over the rec room couch, face buried in his hands as the others watched on in amusement

"I've just made them stronger," he moaned, distraught, "I've done nothing but make them buff and pissed"

"Aw, cheer up Gaz, teach em to use a detonator next and maybe they can be our new infiltration specialist," Ghost laughed, dodging the pillow Gaz chucked at him

You simply huddled closer on Gaz's lap, smug in only the way a victorious wee beast could be when they knew that they'd won. He stopped trying to keep you out after that, fearing the day you outright ripped the door off its hinges to get to him