Being Laswells pampered little Puppy!Hybrid who’s been sulking about the house ever since Laswell caught Coyote Pack!141 trying to lure away play with Reader near the border of her property.
And in Readers defence, they really do want to play with her! Drag her into their cozy, warm den and take turns playing with her until she’s unable to escape move from the safety of the fuzzy, comfy nest they made just for her and their pups!
Laswells been keeping an eye out the windows, watching the coyote hybrids stalk around the woods near her backyard, careful to keep Puppy!Reader close and locked up safe, knowing full well that it will only take one slip up, one instance of forgetting to lock the door behind her or leaving a window cracked open for her silly doggy to run off and get herself into trouble
But she knows that her sweet pup isn’t really a bad girl, she’s just a lonely little puppygirl who needs some extra love and attention from other hybrids
Instead of letting those wild canines steal away her precious pet, she decides to inlist the help of a friend to help take Readers mind off of those howls echoing from the treeline
So she invites her friend Valeria and her pet Dog!Hybrid over for a puppy play date
Kangal Shepard!König who is smitten immediately, tail smacking against the doorway as it wags excitedly, barely giving reader a moment to take in the sight of the giant, fluffy hybrid before he’s on top of her, nose burried in her neck as he inhales her scent, releasing a low, content rumble as he sniffs her hair.
Laswell finally being able to relax as she lets the two dog hybrids out into the yard to play, resting easy when she see’s how König keeps Reader close by, herding her away from the forests edge and keeping a wary eye on the trees, sensing the presence of the coyotes hidden amongst the foliage, seething over the dumb mutt that’s guarding their sweet, soft mate from them
Imagine hybrid 141! with a reader that's like a world serpent (or just a very big sea serpent), who has gotten used to people just ignoring their existence as a myth (and honestly prefers it that way)
Imagine Soap and Gaz wondering why the base has a super deep pool that no one's been to the bottom of and only heard horror stories. Price and Simon who just lets them fuck around and find out by meeting reader.
(this is really badly written and I apologise)
this is SO good!! I had no clue what a world serpent was so I ended up going down a rabbit hole of mythology lol. that being said, y'know how the u.s. navy has an indoor ocean they use to test out ship models? (if not, go watch a vid on it. that thing terrifies me) I'm imagining that as the sort of pool that would be big enough to hold a serpent
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Soap and Gaz had caught glimpses of your enclosure before. They didn’t know that’s what it was, but they had definitely seen the humongous pool in the west end of the base. Questions had been asked and pleas had been made, yet they still knew very little about the room. No one ever seemed to go in there, and no one certainly exited from the locked double doors barring their entry. It was only so long before the rumors started to reach their ears.
It was an old ocean simulator, a private had told them. Years of disuse after separating the navy from this particular base had left the cogs rusty and the room seething with moisture-fed mildew. It was claimed to be a biohazard now, and only those with high enough clearance and knowledge on safety protocols were allowed in there. Most of the soldiers with higher ranks also spat out stuff about the waters being horribly infested.
Perhaps it was only said to discourage anyone from trying to break in, but some part of Gaz couldn’t help believing the talk of algae and parasites swarming the stagnant water, mutated organisms that sloshed about and preyed on anyone that dared enter their domain. Countless stories were relayed about soldiers falling in and never resurfacing, which should have added a sense of fear and mystery to the whole thing. Those waters were definitely haunted if the stories were any count.
That didn’t stop Gaz and Soap, though. They weren’t idiots, so they knew they shouldn’t be roaming around the facility at two in the morning, but some instincts just couldn’t be fought. For the canines, curiosity was their downfall. Their noses led them straight to the dim hallway that connected the main building to the one roughly the size of an indoor stadium. Gaz, as calm as ever, was quiet as he sniffed around in an attempt to find some way in. Soap on the other hand…
“Would you cut that shit out?!” Gaz snapped in a whisper. Soap was pacing up and down by the heavy double doors that barred their entry, whines growing increasingly louder as the minutes passed. “There’s a reason you don’t get put on stealth missions, and it’s because you can’t keep your fucking snout shut. Now quit whimpering before you get us caught.”
“Afraid it’s too late for that.”
Gaz and Soap froze in place at the smooth sound of Simon’s voice. Gaz offered a quiet growl to Soap, but a heavy paw on the back of his neck shut it off right away. Price had a more amused look on his face as he maintained an almost death grip on Gaz, making the man go pliant from being scruffed. “What have we got here? Trying to sneak into the west side, I see. Sometimes I forget you two are closer to being pups than I am. Can’t help getting yourselves into some mischief, can you?”
“What do you reckon?” Simon spoke lowly to Price, completely ignoring how Soap was whining at his heels. “The buggers want to know what’s inside, and we have the ability to let them in, don’t we? They’ll figure out how to get in there with or without us, so… might as well supervise.”
“Simon, isn’t it too late for that? The, er, scheduled entry times are at six in the morning and six in the evening. Feels a bit disruptive, don’t you think?” Price countered. They were speaking in voices low enough to have Gaz and Soap straining their ears to catch every little detail. A few minutes were spent calmly debating, but Price eventually relented and scanned his badge to unlock the doors.
Immediately, a heavy, salty scent engulfed Soap and Gaz’s senses. Their eyes squinted from how pungent it was, following slowly behind Simon and Price as they approached the metal barrier. The second his eyes landed on the massive pool in front of him, Soap’s tail started a slow wag. “You’ve been hiding this from me?” he murmured as he edged closer and closer to the barrier. “An indoor ocean that I could have been taking laps in? Fuck, I’d be mad if I wasn’t fighting the urge to jump in right now.”
“Don’t,” Simon hissed out. He tugged Soap back by his shirttail and guided him to a room off to the side filled with diving equipment. “You need an oxygen tank before you get in, because that right there is fifty meters of deep water. It’s been a long time since anyone has reached the bottom willingly, so be cautious. The fish in there won’t hurt you, but I can’t say much about the rest of it.”
After worming their way into wetsuits and being fitted with oxygen tanks (and several questions about what the hell Simon meant by “the rest of it”), Gaz and Soap stood at the open edge of the pool. A few minnows glittering near the surface increased their curiosity tenfold, and all it took was the grunted approval of Price for the two to dive headfirst into the waters.
Meanwhile, you knew something was off from the moment the task force set foot into your pool room. It was nowhere near time for anyone to come in and feed you, and you were tempted to bring your head up to the surface to check things out. Your sense of smell was dull and barely there from a life living underwater, but you could tell there was something new in the waters with you. It wasn’t Price or Simon, who you had come to be somewhat friendly with over the years, but the scent on these newcomers vaguely resembled them.
With a great yawn, your tail swished out of your mouth as you uncurled yourself from the deepest corner of the pool where you had been resting. The simple marine life that had slowly been dumped into your tank parted with the waters as you glided through. Most of them had been put in for you to eat, but you found that they made better company than dinner so you let them coexist with you. This seemed to bring great joy to Price especially, so you would let every fifth feeding live just to hear him make those weird noises the two-legged mammals made when they were happy.
Your head was parting the seagrass and algae that caked the bottom of the pool in search of what had jumped in at such an ungodly hour when something rather firm in feeling poked the top of your head. Swimming forward to tilt your head back and look at the offender, you came face to face with something that looked a lot like Price and Simon. It wasn’t either of them, though. This one had a longer, fuzzier tail and more pointed ears. The only resemblance it shared was its teeth.
Pointed canines were bared at you in a grimace that you could only perceive as an attempt to be threatening. It was kind of cute, because they looked like yours but much smaller. Serpents had no way of understanding the body language of most hybrids, so you missed the flattened ears and tucked tail as signs of utter fear. Your response was to open your mouth and show off your own pointed teeth. Two rows of sharp terror flashed at the thing floating in front of you.
And then it twisted wildly. Its arms and legs flailed, making it rise in the water before sinking right back down again. There wasn’t much you could do but watch as it tried to scramble away from you. You only intervened when its hands grasped at the tube that connected its nose to the metal thing on its back. You had seen Simon do that once before and knew that the one in front of you would go unresponsive if it went on for too long.
As sadistic as you were, wondering how long it would take for this one to stop moving, you had a feeling it was connected to Price and Simon. They had forgone a couple days of visits the last time you let a hybrid drown, so you were sure they would be gone for months if you let one of their own die. Reluctantly, you sucked the thing into your mouth and held it down with your tongue to keep it from swimming down the back of your throat as you rose to the surface.
Just as you expected, you saw the two that you were familiar with standing in the spot they usually did when they came to visit you. With a very unceremonious flop of your head onto the concrete edge of the pool, you reopened your mouth to let the water drain and the hybrid in there scramble out. It didn’t want to move at first, but a slither of your tongue on its back got it out.
“Ah, I see you found the little worm first!” Price exclaimed. He had that happy look on his face, so you stayed and indulged in the pats his hand laid to the front of your face. The one now on the ground squirmed until it was upright and pointed an accusatory finger at you.
“Little worm? Little? Worm?!,” it screeched. A low rumble came from you in displeasure at the sound. This was why you preferred as few visitors as possible. They all overreacted when they saw you, either drowning themselves in their haste to get away or making insufferable noises once they got back on dry land. “That thing is neither little nor a worm. It’s a damned monster! Tried to fucking eat me!”
“Can’t say you’re wrong on the monster part, but the technical term is a serpent. Think of it like a huge snake that lives in the water. We’re not sure if it’s a really young world serpent or an adult sea serpent, though. Hard to measure the thing and find out,” Simon explained. The other hybrid seemed to be having a hard time coming to terms with this onslaught of information.
“All that matters, Soap, is that it’s harmless. A bit grouchy with anything that isn’t a fish, but it hasn’t actually hurt anyone yet,” Price went on. “And it wasn’t going to eat you. If it didn’t take a liking to you, it would have left you down there. The thing is picky and rarely eats anything other than Mahi Mahi. Oh, and look! It’s found Gaz.”
Something had been messing around with your tail under the water, triggering the reflex to swing it up to your mouth. You had been ready with your jaw unhinged, but a sharp tug on one of the scales on your neck held you immobile. With your tail draped between your teeth uselessly, you peered down to find yet another hybrid clinging to the very tip of it. Now slightly annoyed over having not one but two intruders, you gave a sharp flick of your tail to dislodge it.
Gaz landed outside of the pool with a harsh “umph” and slowly raised himself up on his arms. You couldn’t see it very well, but his stumpy tail was flicking back and forth as hard as it could. All you saw was a hybrid that wasn’t intimidated by your teeth and scales and otherwise generally concerning appearance. This one seemed completely thrilled by your existence.
“Ah, sick!” Gaz murmured as he scrambled up to get to you. Soap was still halfway cowering behind Simon, staring at you with humongous eyes. “I’ve heard of these things before. I had a thing for mythology in my teen years and got super obsessed with serpents. Never thought they were actually real. Where’d you get it?”
Gaz looked to Price first, who in turn gave Simon a scolding sort of look. Simon shrugged, not at all ashamed to admit how you had ended up inside of the base. “There was a bust on an oil rig a few years back. I found it when it was only a few feet long and brought it back. Thought it would make a good weapon of some sort, but it’s turned into a sort of overgrown water cat. All it does is nap and eat.”
So many questions and stories about you were thrown out by the task force. Once Price had stopped scratching at your scales, you lost all interest and resolved to stirring up the fish in the pool. They all watched your green-blue scales shimmer with the water dripping off of them, pointing out the bits of seaweed and algae that clung to the sharper spikes along your back. At the very least, Price gave you an extra Mahi Mahi as a thank you for being so well behaved.
You made a point to remember the names of Soap and Gaz. If they seemed to be so close to Simon and Price, enough so for the two to bring them to you, then there was a high chance they would be back at some point. And as the group left, Soap was the last to slip out of the double doors, sparing one last look at you as you dived back down to curl up once more.
Maybe Soap would sneak in at some point in a stupid attempt to try to teach you tricks? And maybe, just maybe, you would give in and roll in the water once so he would get those same silly noises Price did when happy. After all, a little public humiliation was worth it if you got an overdose of Mahi Mahi for it all.
When coming home from a long mission, all you want to do is get back to your barracks and take a well-deserved nap in your nest. Getting spooked by some of your teammates leads to an old instinct arising, and they have to work to bring you back to them.
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Hybrids were supposed to lose certain instincts as they got older. The “baby instincts”, they were called, phased out as a hybrid passed certain developmental milestones. Gaz had outgrown the puppyhood instinct to chew, Johnny was no longer as yippy as he used to be, and Simon didn’t feel the need to climb up something every time he felt he was in danger. Even Price had stopped trying to constantly initiate play fights. You had also stopped showing the endearing traits of a young deer hybrid, but things were different with you. Being a prey-type hybrid, it was hard to get used to life with a pack of predators. The beginning of your placement in the task force was rocky, and everyone’s instincts went haywire for the better chunk of a year. With plenty of patience and long talks, however, you eventually settled in like you were one of their own.
That didn’t mean you didn’t still feel those natural flight or fight instincts around them, though. It was a subconscious matter and often never presented itself, but you always required a full day of isolation after the rough deployments and missions. The snarl of a bear or disorienting yowl of a coyote was enough to make the fur on your little doe ears stand on end, and the constant noise was ceaseless during the fighting. That’s why you were hastily padding down the hallways of the quiet base once the team had returned from a grueling, two week long field operation.
Johnny always had extra energy after missions. Gaz, being part canine as well, tended to be dragged along for his post-battle excursions. Had you not been so sleepy and worn out, you would have heard the little yips and chatter of the two men just around the corner. But your ears were drooping, eyes half-lidded, and mind consumed with thoughts of your nice, warm nest waiting for you in your barracks. You didn’t know what was coming for you until you made a left turn at the end of the hallway, getting caught up in Johnny’s and Gaz’s antics.
It was Gaz that saw you first. He stepped to the left, intent on getting out of your way to let you continue on your path. That led to Johnny whipping his head around and spotting you, and then it all happened so fast. A rush of fur, a loud snarl, and the sound of two feet jumping at you was the last thing you recalled before your mind went blank and you dropped to the floor. Poor Johnny was just trying to play and wear off some steam, and the animal side of his brain didn’t recognize what he had done until Gaz scruffed him and gave him a correctional bite to his ear. “Don’t fucking push the doe, you idiot!” he growled.
“Wha- I didn’t! She must’ve tripped,” Johnny shot back, ears pinned in upset over the accusatory tone. They waited for you to get up, to clarify what had happened… but you didn’t. Johnny and Gaz stared down at where you were lying belly down on the floor, arms and legs tucked neatly under your stomach as your chin rested firmly on the cool linoleum. Your eyes were so wide, ears very flat against your head. The little poof of your tail that normally stuck straight up to display the white patch on the underside was now tucked directly against your bottom, showing nothing but the deep brown of your pelt. If they focused carefully, they could see a slight shiver to your ears and tail.
“Doe?” Johnny tried to get your attention. He crouched down, gently poking your side with a claw, but it was like you were frozen in time. His ears pinned against his head, tail tucking as he let out a loud whine, very clearly frightened he had seriously harmed you. “Gaz, what is this? I didn’t think I touched her, but she’s all petrified. She’s… is she breathing?”
With the analytical charm of his inner doberman, Gaz assessed you. The slew of questions from Johnny rushed past his ears as he thought. This reaction from you was nothing they had seen before, and it had been triggered so quickly. Gaz looked down the hallway and gave a sniff of the air. Price was nearby. Simon was a little further away, but if he was loud enough maybe Gaz could get both of their attention. With Johnny still whining by your side, Gaz opened his mouth to bay out a deep barking sort of howl. Within seconds, the pit-pat-pit-pat of two pairs of feet was rushing down the hall.
“Bloody hell, can’t a bear relax without-” Price started, coming up short as his eyes raked over you. Behind him, Simon was a chittering mess of agitation over the noise. Only when Price thumped him in the belly with a heavy hand did he shut up. “She’s fawned,” Price murmured. He looked between the other three before warily sitting down in front of your face. “This is supposed to be a baby instinct. She should have grown out of this ages ago. What happened?”
The guilt overwhelmed Johnny so bad that he whined while shuffling to hide himself behind Gaz. The latter gave a quick run-down of the events, which earned Johnny a disapproving look from John and another angry chitter from Simon. “I didn’t mean to,” he feebly tried to argue. “Was just all doped up from adrenaline, ye know? I didn’t know she would collapse.”
“Never mind it, Johnny,” Price sighed gruffly. He was keeping a watchful eye on your face, studying how you blinked only when your eyes watered from keeping them open for too long. The heavy weight of his hand atop your head made your body rock slightly when he would drag his claws through your hair, your muscles refusing to move a single inch. “You two should probably leave. She’s scared of you right now, and I need to try to work her out of this.”
Johnny opened his mouth to protest, but a swift nip to the shoulder from Gaz was all it took to send him scampering down the hall with his tail tucked between his legs. Once it was just you, Simon, and Price, they started the process of trying to bring you back to your right mind. Simon sat where you could see him, hands tucked under his legs in a show that he wasn’t a current threat. Price started to pat the top of his thigh when you managed to peel those dilated eyes up to his.
“C’mere,” the big bear cooed. There was an ounce of hesitation in your body, but the slight stirring you made signaled progress. Price was patient, still repeating the cycle of pat, pat, coo in order to coax you closer to him. “You're safe, little doe. I’ve found ya, yeah? Done chased off the big bad coyote that was gonna getcha.”
After a few long minutes of gentle encouragement, you dared to wriggle an arm out from under your body. The way you crawled was slow and low, keeping a vigilant eye and ear out for anything that could harm you. The second your little palm met Price’s knee, his hands were under your armpits and dragging your curled up body close to his own. Price always gave a good bear hug whenever you needed to feel that extra little bit of protection, and right now was no different. Huge thighs and arms encircled your torso as he squished you close, allowing you to feel his strength and slow heartbeat. Slight chuffs emanated from Price’s throat, and soon a few chitters joined the mix.
Simon wasn’t one for comfort, but even he knew that their little doe needed all the help she could get. Deft, clawed fingers rubbed over your ears, making them flicker from the ticklish sensation. It was a satisfying process for Price and Simon to watch your pupils retract and see your muscles become more fluid. It wasn’t long before your eyes were fully closed, chest heaving with the deep breaths that the pure exhaustion left over from the adrenaline brought about.
Price shifted you out of his arms and over to Simon’s as they stood. The grumpy bear persona he was known for was starting to show itself, and he grunted to Simon before starting to thomp down the hall towards the common room where Johnny and Gaz were sure to be. “You get her settled in bed, Si,” he instructed the still-vocalizing racoon. “I’m going to go rip Johnny a new one for not keeping his snout in check.”
Was it the restlessness of your mind that woke you from your sleep? Or was it the bittersweet stench of guilt that was becoming stronger by the second? Maybe it was the way your stomach still felt a little queasy and legs sort of weak and wobbly after your earlier incident? Whatever it was, you found yourself sitting upright in bed with the sheets tangled uncomfortably around your legs as you blinked into the darkness of your room.
The scent of Simon lingered vaguely in the air from when he had tucked you in earlier, and you laid back down to bury your nose in the spot on the blanket he had rubbed against. Beneath the deep notes of pepper and pinewood, though, you could smell something like burnt sugar. You thought you were imagining it, but soon the whole room seemed to have the aroma of a pot of caramel left unattended for far too long.
And then there was a scratch at your door. The rest of the team, being beasts with tough fingernails that resembled the claws of their animal counterparts, never bothered with knocking. You had given up trying to paint over the scratch marks left on your door after one of them requested entry. The layers of paint never got to dry before the next one came clawing in.
Tumbling out of bed on shaky feet, you let out a few soft and short bleats to let whoever it was know that you had heard them. The scratching stopped, and you stumbled haphazardly through the dark until your hand latched onto the doorknob. You turned it and eased the door open, squinting your eyes when that acrid, burnt smell hit you like a physical blow. It was so strong that you swore you could taste it as well.
And standing right in front of you was Johnny in an absolute state. He had shown submissive traits before, typically when he had had enough of Gaz’s or Price’s rough housing, but this was totally different. His ears were downturned in a docile manner, eyes staring pointedly at the ground as he hunkered his shoulders to seem lesser than. All standard stuff for a coyote that didn’t want to be perceived as a threat, really, but seeing you must have made Johnny nervous.
You were so tiny looking like this, freshly awoken from sleep. Your ears were extra floppy and droopy, dangling like two curled, fuzzy pancakes glued to the side of your head. And those big doe eyes were half-lidded and paired with a slight pout on your lips. Johnny couldn’t help how his coyote brain went into overdrive. He just wanted you to feel safe with him again, and that want triggered his long-buried puppy brain.
A squeaky “arf!” trailed into a long whine, and that woke you up fully. Popping your eyes open completely, you watched as Johnny’s whole body twisted in time with his tail, which was flinging around with such a force that you were sure it would be sore later. Then the lip licking started. You had to learn a lot about predator hybrids to understand the little quirks of your team, so thankfully you knew that Johnny wasn’t trying to intimidate you with his huge canines. He was soothing himself.
His lip licking wasn’t exactly a baby instinct per say, but it was an old habit Johnny had up until his late teen years. His tongue traced over his top and bottom lips while he grimaced a sort of smile, and then retracted to do the same to his teeth. It repeated once, twice, and then you had a groveling coyote trying to nudge his way into your room. One step closer to you, then two skittish ones backward. There was so much tumbling around in the poor pup’s mind that he couldn’t do much more than let his body language speak for him. And his body was screaming at you to let him in.
You still felt weak, like you would be horribly vulnerable to any sort of attack at the moment, but you knew Johnny wouldn’t harm you. Not intentionally, at least. All it took was the smallest step to the side from you for him to cross the threshold of your door, taking that as him earning your approval. Just like earlier, there was a mess of fur coming at you. There were no teeth or snarling or jumping this go around, though. Just Johnny’s incessant whining as he latched onto you.
His arms circled around your shoulders and nose mussed up your hair as he shuffled you both back to your bed. Not a word was spoken as he pulled you to lay by him, not even when he flopped belly-up with his hands curled by his chest, tail swishing passively. It was such a puppy-like act that you couldn’t help the soft bleat that left you. “Johnny…”
“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry-“ he broke like a fucking record when you murmured his name. You said it like he hadn’t scared you shitless earlier. Broken your trust. How you could sound so okay with him right now was out of his realm of understanding. Johnny thought he had damn near killed you earlier, and the recollection of your unresponsive stare was still unnerving him. And you had the audacity to not appear even remotely upset.
“It was an accident-“ he whined out as he slowly turned over, “-and I couldn’t help it once I saw you,” draped a timid arm over your waist, “was so fuckin’ stupid of me,” tugged you close, “I know how you get after missions,” wrapped both legs around your hips, “and I shoulda known to leave you alone,” tucked your head under his chin, “but Gaz had me so riled up,” and gave your ear a little lick.
“I swear I was jus’ playin’. Wasn’t trying t’ make you feel hunted.”
All nestled in Johnny’s arms, you listened to his broken explanation. You felt the warmth of his tongue drag against the grain of the fur on your ear. Licking was starting to become a bad habit of his, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but not a bone in your body wanted to tell him to put his tongue away. Especially not when he started to get at the spot right behind your ear that you felt you could never properly clean on your own.
“I know it, Johnny,” you sighed, melting into the mattress and his hold. The sound of your sweet voice, thick with sleep and holding no trace of hatred, made him feel even more guilty. “I know you won’t hunt me. I was just tired, y’know? Working doesn’t hype me up like it does you. I get all vulnerable and stressed out from it, so I crash afterwards. You just caught me at a bad time. It wasn’t your fault.”
Those four words hit Johnny hard. He let out a half-growl, half-whine before chomping at the air above your head, in distress and muddled with confusion. The normally salty undertones of his scent were still bitter, but there was a hint of it trying to break through the haze of upset. Johnny had a difficult personality, though, always wanting to be hard on himself and struggling to accept forgiveness. “Ach, don’t say that,” he groaned, shoving his nose back into your hair and muffling his voice. “I know the rules. Know I gotta be calmer and shit with ya, lest I scare you off. Price is always havin’ to remind me.”
“Johnny, is that it? Is that what’s bothering you?” you asked, pulling your head back to make him look you in the eyes for once that night. Pupils blown wide and irises all glassy, he just couldn’t do it. He would look at you for a few seconds and would then stare pointedly at some spot behind your head, repeating the process because he knew you wanted him to look at you. You little prey hybrids were weird with how you liked eye contact. It completely defeated the whole submissive act he was putting on.
“Puppy,” you cooed. The nickname was rarely used on him, but it was powerful. It worked to lock his gaze onto your own. You saw how his ears swiveled backwards minutely, felt how his arms seemed to go lax. The rhythm of his tail even changed into a steady thump rather than an agitated swish. You would have giggled at how obviously he liked being called puppy, but there were larger matters at hand. “Did you get fussed at? Is that why you’re being extra whiny tonight?”
Johnny might have acted like he hated being coddled, grumbling and smushing his face right back on the top of your head, but there was no denying just how quick his tail wagged. It just made him feel so loved, being this big, tough coyote doted on by a sweet little doe such as yourself. That whole stereotype of prey hybrids being more nurturing was true. And when you remained patient, letting Johnny whine and growl out his big puppy feelings, that was what got him to open up.
“Mhm,” he managed to vocalize through a drawn-out whine. He was getting restless now, kicking his legs a little and shuffling down to press his nose right against the pulse in your neck. Your sweet, honey-suckle scent was stronger there, working to douse out the bitterness in Johnny’s. He might have even darted out his tongue in an attempt to lap up even more of you, and you might have just let him.
“Price was… was a fuckin’ bitch,” he whimpered. A very weak growl rumbled in the back of his throat over just how mean the captain had been. “Growled at me and did that thing where he stands up real tall. Told me I need to start thinking more before I do stuff. Well, he doesn’t have to deal with having so much energy y’feel like you’ll explode before you can get it out! The big oaf does nothin’ but sleep and lay around if he isn’t following orders.”
“Name calling, Johnny,” you scolded him gently. With a pack as mixed as your own, there was no way of preventing disagreements, but you all drew the line at being straight up mean. Johnny knew this, and you knew he didn’t really mean his words. He was just trying to bark out all those big feelings in the only way a pup knew how. For that, you let it slide just this once. “Price can be a bit gruff, yeah. Don’t take it to heart, hon. You know how nervous he gets over me.”
“...’e was still mean,” he grumbled out as a last retort. After getting it all off his chest, Johnny deflated on top of you. With arms and legs still wrapped around your body, nose nuzzled between your neck and collarbone, and tail now lying limp behind him, the pup looked properly worn out. The alarm clock by your bed displayed the numbers 2:57, and you had no doubt that he hadn’t got a wink of sleep yet.
All it took, it turned out, was a frustrated trip back to puppyhood and a good snuggle to get Johnny to drift off. You were a tangled up mess of limbs, neither of you too apt to sleep apart from each other. Johnny would still get nervous for weeks whenever he tried to initiate play, worried he would spook you again and make you fawn, and you would have to assure him that you would be okay. Even so, he made sure one of the others was around to supervise and correct him if he got too rough.
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
this can def be read as platonic if you wish. first time writing male-adjacent reader so, uh, bear with me (haha get it bear)
1.8k words
When you were being transferred into a different task force after complications with your last one, you were told that the hierarchy and dynamic of the new one would be infinitely better than what you had previously. An all male team where all members were at an equal position, with the only “leader” being the captain during missions – that’s what you were told. Someone conveniently forgot to tell you, however, that the 141 was composed of North American and Western European mammal hybrids.
That was no big deal, right? Kangaroos are technically also mammals, so there couldn’t be that many differences. Partially due to military training and mostly genetics, you matched the strength of your bear-esque captain quite well. Bonds were easily formed through friendly competitions to see who could lift the most, jump the highest, and clear the range the quickest. You always won the jumping one, naturally.
None of the task force had ever encountered an Australian hybrid before you, let alone a marsupial. The first few days to weeks of your acclimation to the new pack was filled with curiosity over your animalistic features. Soap begged to see you balance yourself on your tail, and Gaz liked how your ears stood straight like his own. You had to repeatedly tell Ghost that no, you did not also have a pouch because you were a dude. It took until he saw you shirtless in the showers to believe you.
Everything was fine and dandy for at least a month. You were settling in well while adjusting to the time difference, and you were even given your own extra durable punching bag to use in your free time. Trouble only came when you got comfortable enough to lean into your instincts. Five male hybrids, all of which are breeds known to be aggressive, didn’t mix very well.
It started with Soap getting sidetracked while roughhousing with Gaz. They were nipping and snarling at each other with wagging tails, rolling all over the floor in the rec center. You made the mistake of passing by too close and getting the end of your tail caught in Soap’s maw. A squeal left you as your foot jutted out backwards and narrowly missed his head.
Apparently this was the most fun Soap had had in a long time, so he started an awful habit of biting at you when he was feeling playful. He would just laugh and laugh and laugh when you reared back onto your tail and pushed at him to get him to leave you alone. You detested the bite marks marring your tail and shoulders while Soap wandered around unscathed, feeling like a loser of a buck.
Gaz wasn’t any better. He was so nitpicky about how you dealt with firearms. You were meant for close combat, not long-range! It got to a point where every correction from him was met with a cough, and then that would mess up your aim so there was no way of winning with him. And maybe you were tougher on Gaz when the two of you got paired up for sparring practice just because of it. That was the only way you could assert any kind of dominance over him, it seemed.
Price, thank fuck, never did anything to aggravate you. He was too busy grumbling about or dozing off to give you any commands during down time. He would chastise you after watching you knock Gaz out with a right hook during a spar or rip Soap off you before you kicked at him, but that was the most he ever did. Price was an observer and a mediator, not an instigator.
The worst of them all was Ghost. Holy hell, he never let you breathe. If he wasn’t barking orders at you, he was trying to physically push you around. Soap and Gaz laughed it off, like it was some sort of game for them to see how much you would take before you snapped. You got close many times, flexing your pectorals in agitation, but Price would always step in and order everyone to disperse.
Except, Price was busy today. He had meeting after meeting, leaving you to deal with the other three alone. It was the same old routine – grit your teeth and put up with Gaz, get bit by Soap passing through the halls, and somehow get found by Ghost when all you wanted was to relax. The creak of the door to the rec center opening was enough to make your ears droop in dismay.
“Sergeant,” Ghost called out. He shuffled over to the counter and leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest, before flicking his head up at you. “Thought I told you to reset the range? That been done yet?”
“Done this morning, sir,” you pointedly replied. It was easier if you turned your back to him and didn’t have to look right at his beady little eyes and ears that seemed to never stop flicking. “Unless you wanted me to reset it after every private had a turn with it? Can’t promise I’d be quick enough for that.”
Ghost pushed himself off the counter and sauntered over to you, pushing a firm fist against your shoulder. “Think I won’t put you up to it if you keep on with that mouth, huh?” He gave a few extra pushes to your upper arm, ignoring the way your lip was starting to curl. “Damn brute, you are. See, you’ve got the training right for arms and legs, but your core is what’s really missing out.”
For emphasis, Ghost latched his hands onto your sides and jostled you. A switch flipped in your roo brain, instincts screaming at you that this guy was trying to pull a fast one on you. You gave him all the warning bells you could have. Chin lifted high as you tilted your head back, grumbly growls built in your throat as you shifted onto your tippy-toes and leaned into your tail for balance.
You had been corrected and bit and barked at for weeks on end, like you were nothing but a joey that needed to learn his place. You had always prided yourself on your patience, only ever getting aggressive when your hormones skyrocketed, but even the most strong-willed hybrid could only put up with bullshit threats to their social status for so long. So when Ghost had the gall to push his claws against your stomach, shit hit the fan.
Your hands flew out, forearms twitching as you pushed him back by the shoulders. Pride stroked your ego when he stumbled slightly, but the mischievous glare Ghost sent back to you drew a warning cough out of you. “Wha’samatter? Feeling jumpy?” he teased.
It was a careful dance to keep yourself from actually breaking out in a full on fight with your lieutenant. You settled with repeatedly pushing him back from you, proving over and over again that you had significantly more strength in your arms. This went on for about twenty minutes until Price lumbered in and drew Ghost away from you.
Disgruntled, you scratched at your chest and arms. Grooming was the easiest way to calm yourself after getting riled up, after all. You had nearly settled down enough to join in on the conversation across the room when Ghost decided he just hadn’t had enough of messing with you.
“The bloke’s got crazy strength. Watch it,” he said to Price as he entered back into your personal space.
“I know the saying is ‘don’t poke a sleeping bear’, but I really think you should consider ‘don’t shove a pissed off kangaroo’, Simon.”
“Fuck off. All soldiers fight better when they’re amped up. I know what I’m doing-”
Simon did not, in fact, know what he was doing.
The crunch of bone hitting bone echoed throughout the room, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Okay, maybe going for a jab right at Simon’s nose wasn’t the smartest first move to make, but it worked. He staggered back for a second before glaring up at you through his brow. “That the way you wanna play?” he hissed.
It was all claws and punches for a while. You aimed lower, hitting at Ghost’s shoulders to try to knock him off balance. He scratched at your chest when he was able to get close enough, drawing blood that had Price growling at both of you to knock it off. You’d have let it go if Ghost quit launching himself right back at you, but the fucker went for your weak spot and sliced his razor-like claws down your ribcage.
You saw the aftermath before you knew what had happened. Ghost five feet away from you and doubled over on his knees, Price running over to intervene… Only when your feet hit the ground again did you realize that you had kicked. Still, it looked like you had won this skirmish, so you puffed up your chest and ran your claws gently down the already broken skin. The pride didn’t last long, though.
Price was quick to growl in your face and clamp his paw on the back of your neck, knowing that roos didn’t respond to being scruffed very well. You tried to growl back in defiance, riding the high of finally showing someone who’s boss, but that earned you a warning snap. You had seen what that maw of his could do, so you got the hint to back off. He got Ghost up off the floor to walk it off while you huffed and paced the rest of your agitation away.
Price was on your case after that. You couldn’t be in a room with other soldiers without him practically breathing down your neck. The rest of the 141 got plenty more reprimands for trying to egg you on, but you also got the unfortunate displeasure of having to be calmed down by the grumpiest hybrid known to man.
And if Price had to drag you back to his den one evening after you tried to square up to Soap for an accidental elbow to the rib, so be it. If he had to force you to lay down and take a rest from being so pissed off, growling when you tried to thrash your way out from underneath the blankets, then that’s what had to happen.
And when Price finally figured out that all you needed was verbal confirmation that you weren’t at the bottom of the food chain here, you best believe you got a long talking to about it. He didn’t care when you started to drift off, continuing to papa-bear you into believing that you were an equal. “You’re a part of this pack, herd, er… whatever the hell you call it. Quit tryin’ to fight us over every little thing, cause there isn’t a single one of us that wouldn’t let you lead if it came down to it.”
some crumbs while i struggle through the last weeks of this semester
lemur!reader (implied female, but can be read as gender neutral), bear!price, coyote!soap, doberman!gaz
1k words
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The 141 was notorious for being the top rehabilitation team when it came to hybrids that needed a bit of exposure to reintegrate into everyday life. This often looked like a few days to weeks with a rescued captive or the occasional soldier that came back from a mission worse for wear. They were great at it, honestly, with how tight-nit their pack was. Enforcing social dynamics and teaching manners was their specialty.
…Until it all went to shit.
Laswell noticed it first. Price had fallen ill with a horrible case of the flu, and the rest of the team couldn’t manage well without their captain. Ghost thought he should be the next in charge, but Gaz took issue with this. Naturally bossy and strict with rules, the doberman in Gaz couldn’t stand to see such a loose-spirited thing like Ghost take over. Raccoons were horrible at leading, in his opinion.
Soap, for one, didn’t care who the hell was in charge. If Price wasn’t there, he wouldn’t listen. When the complaints from other soldiers on the base about excessive barking and unprompted bites reached high enough up the chain (even when Price eventually came back), Laswell had to step in. Maybe if they had their old routine back in place of being rehabilitators things would go back to normal?
By some stroke of luck, she came across you. A relatively young ring-tailed lemur hybrid that had lost the entirety of their last troop. You were old enough to properly understand the social hierarchy of your kind, and you had the tendency to take charge and enforce it. With some quick paperwork and a few strong words, Laswell had you incorporated into the task force by the end of the week.
No one could have guessed that you would have thought all of the men were socially beneath you. No one except Laswell, of course. That’s why she chose you. To lemurs, the males were to be the submissive ones of the troop. When you were given a new troop made of four rowdy and unpredictable hybrids, the only logical conclusion you could come to was to make them behave.
Gaz and Ghost were the first to be corrected. They were getting into a squabble in the armory – Ghost insisting that the ammunition be counted before the guns were properly sorted and Gaz harping on the opposite – when you walked in. They paid you no mind until a sharp chittering sound broke through their griping. Eyes wide and long tail sticking straight up your back, you gave an agitated glare to the two.
Gaz got the hint and bristled, the fur on the back of his neck rising ever so slightly under your gaze. Ghost, on the other hand, chittered back. He had yet to hear a noise like his own be directed at him and couldn’t help trying to challenge you back. That was the day he learned that lemurs are easy to aggravate and quick to bite. He refused to answer any questions about the bandages on his biceps for the week after.
Soap, surprisingly, was quick to get on board with your reign over the task force. It was all for one simple reason: you would hold his hand. His tail would start wagging when you would take his hand and lead him to the mess hall, the infirmary, or anywhere else you deemed necessary, giving you a swift kiss to the cheek with a “see ya, lass” upon departure. He didn’t seem to realize that you were only doing so because he was so bad about taking care of himself. You wouldn’t stand to see your troop go hungry, hurt, or dirty, so you had to take matters into your own hands at times.
Getting on with Price was the biggest struggle. While he was technically your captain and above you in rank, he was still a male. Socially, you fought to be in charge, and you fought hard. It wasn’t easy at all to try and subdue a big bear like him. Every bite was met with a quick swing of his arm to knock you off, and he didn’t take your increasingly high-pitched vocalizations as the warnings that they were.
You ended up tussling with him in the common room one night. It was nearing midnight, and you knew that Price knew he should have been in bed. He was hunched over the table and nursing a glass of bourbon while pouring over various documents when you loomed up behind him. “Captain…” you murmured, voice tinged with a growl.
“Don’t start with me,” Price grumbled back. He sat through your disgruntled eeps and persistent tugs to his shirt sleeve. Even when you started to lightly scratch your claws over his bicep, Price stood his ground and stayed sitting. Soon enough, those sharp teeth of yours were meeting flesh, and that’s when he decided to do something about this whole dominance mess you were trying to impose.
You were moved quicker than you had ever been in your life as Price manhandled you down to the floor. In true lemur fashion, you were a fighter. Tufts of fur flurried to the ground as you reached for his ears, but even someone as prickly and determined as you had enough brains to know when to back off. The harshest snarl Price had given out in a long time left his maw, effectively rendering you motionless.
He took advantage of how your muscles innately softened at the perceived threat and hoisted you up. Slung over the man’s shoulders, you had no choice but to relax and let him carry you back to your quarters. The claws pressing into the back of your thigh spoke a clear message: ‘Stay still’. The pouty furrow of your brow was met with an amused raise of Price’s own when he flopped you onto your bed. “For future reference,” he drawled while climbing next to on top of you, “remember that I’m the one in charge here, yeah?”
hi I’m back with more serpent stuff because I think it’s super cool. Rambling about some physical traits I think reader would have. Mentions of stuff from @rokosbasalisk’s post about serpent!reader
As per usual: bear!Price, raccoon!Simon, coyote!Johnny, and doberman!Gaz
1.3k words, cw: some very mild self deprecation towards the end
You had two main forms your body could take: serpent and human. All members of the task force initially met you as a serpent. Simon and Price found you as a young adolescent sea snake, and Johnny and Gaz had the lovely privilege of encountering you for the first time when you were nearly fully grown. Just over fifteen meters long, you were a sight to behold. A behemoth of a being yet charmed with a certain grace that the hybrids couldn’t help being mesmerized by.
Your scales were a blueish gray with a certain green undertone on your belly. When you felt like popping out of the water, the droplets that clung to your body created a shimmering effect that highlighted the true beauty of your nature. The spikes that trailed your back, starting large at your neck and getting smaller further towards the tip of your tail, also held a certain beauty. It was more of a testimony as to how dangerous you could be, sharpened like a set of knives to slice through the water and anything in it.
Nothing, though, could compare to your teeth. Two to three misaligned rows of pointed daggers filled your mouth, all serving the main purpose of chewing but having the added benefit of being a scare factor. Sometimes Johnny thought back to his first encounter with you, how you had nestled him safely in your mouth alongside those horrid teeth. It made him squeamish to think about being so close to death. One slip of your tongue or twitch of your jaw would have surely impaled him.
Perhaps the most elusive part of you, however, was how you also seemed to hold human DNA. Simon had figured it out first. It was mid November, just when the air was starting to get a real bite to it, and he had to do a deep clean of your pool. It was a pain for him to get you out, but he managed to get you somewhat comfortably nestled along the far wall as he started to drain the murky waters. The only issue was how cold you got when not submerged in the warmth of your pool.
“I’m working as fast as I can, worm,” Simon called out once he noticed you shivering. It was hard to miss a fifteen meter long snake vibrating, scales clacking like a shaken up box of dominos. “The bloody vacuum takes forever, but it’s the last step. The water’s filling back up, see? I don’t think chlorine would be healthy for you, so-“
He cut himself off when he turned to look at you, only to be met with the very obvious sight of a missing serpent. It wasn’t like you could galumph away like a seal, so where the actual hell could you have gone? The doors weren’t big enough for you to get out, either. Simon was starting to panic about having to explain to Price how he had lost the massive creature when he noticed… a person?
For such a huge thing, your human form wasn’t all that large. In fact, you were quite literally average. Average height and weight, all huddled into a ball and still very much shivering. No wonder you were. Your clothes were soaking wet, hair slicked back, and very much underdressed for late fall. Simon tentatively approached you, clearing his throat to get your attention. “Uhm… worm?”
All you gave him was a sniffle and a nod of your head. Did serpents catch colds? Could part human, part serpents get sick if they were wet for too long? Simon didn’t muddle over the rapid fire questions going through his brain before making a hasty decision. Clad in a tank top and shorts, attire more suitable for the summer weather from when he found you, you were scooped up into his arms and transported down the quieter halls of the base.
Price was more than confused when Simon burst into his office carrying a soggy, unidentifiable human. It wasn’t until you made eye contact with him, sporting the same unhappy glare you always did when you didn’t like something, that Price recognized you. “Right,” he murmured, standing and shedding his coat. “Get the heater on. They’re probably adjusting from being cold-blooded, so we need to raise their body temperature as fast as possible.”
It was a whole ordeal of taking your temperature, rotating how close you sat to the heater, and having you take sips of coffee to finally get your temperature to break into the normal range. Once you weren’t literally frozen in shock, you explained that while you did have the ability to willingly shift between human and serpent, drastic changes in body temperature would force you to switch to human in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Simon made sure to remember that for the next time your pool needed to be cleaned.
When Johnny and Gaz found out about your human form, you would have thought all of hell had been set loose. Granted, they did have good intentions. They hadn’t been made aware of your ability to switch beings, so they had every right to have their hackles raised when you, a seemingly unknown soldier, boarded their ship. A brief explanation from the captain set them straight, thankfully. They spent the rest of the day with their tails wagging and ears perked as they interrogated you with questions of why did you not show them your human side earlier? Your answer was simple: you just didn’t wanna.
Everyone learned right quick that you as a human was just as stubborn as you as a serpent. You didn’t want to go back to your pool at the end of the day? Your ass was planted firmly in a chair in the common room well into the night. Price eventually gave up on trying to get you to go back and let you sleep in his barracks for the night. The poor bear ended up sleeping in his office chair and made the crick in his neck everyone’s business the next day. You also learned that a grumpy bear wasn’t something you wanted to mess with.
There was technically an in between stage, too. Somewhere along the way, you would get stuck mid-transition. It wasn’t fun at all for you. Not necessarily in a painful sense, but feelings of insecurity ran deep when you weren’t fully in either form. The hybrids you knew were perfectly balanced with ears, tails, and some fluff here and there. When you were more akin to a hybrid body, however, you felt almost inferior. Gaz knew all too well how it felt to dislike one’s animalistic features (having experienced it with his own docked tail and cropped ears), so he was quick to put an end to your moping.
Gaz caught you in the corner of an empty room one evening, curled up on a heating pad and looking utterly depressed. A miniature version of your serpent tail was peeking out from the base of your spine, and your ears were more molded to your head. The way you gave a weak hiss at his approach told Gaz that you were not in a great mood. He was patient, though, and waited silently by your side until you naturally started to seek out his body heat. Your cold-blooded instincts worked well in his favor.
It took months of work for you to really become okay with being stuck in that weird state of half-serpent, half-human. It didn’t happen often but when it did, you learned that it was best to relax and let your body do the work on its own. Forcing yourself to finish out the transition often resulted in you accidentally hurting yourself. Besides, it was much more soothing to get drowsy while someone rubbed over the little bumps on your spine from your half baked spikes. Sometimes you had to admit that cold-blooded didn’t always mean cold-hearted.
