Your birthday was just around the corner.
Not that you told anyone. In fact, if you had it your way, you'd probably let it slide by without a word. But wolves have good hearing, crows have sharper memories, and Ghost—well, Ghost had his ways of knowing things.
So even though you kept quiet, TF141 knew. And Soap—ever the golden retriever of a wolf hybrid—decided he wanted to get you something special.
“Mate,” he’d told Gaz the day before, tail wagging lazily behind him. “I’m gettin’ them the best bloody catnip on the market. I mean the top shelf stuff. Stuff that makes other hybrids jealous.”
Soap was bolting through the corridor with a massive grin and a bag — no, a luxury sachet — of the best hybrid-approved catnip money could buy. Imported. Refined. Aged like wine.
Gaz blinked. “Didn’t know you were that generous.”
Soap grinned. “What can I say? I like ‘em. Even if they act like they’d scratch your eyes out for breathing wrong.”
Gaz snorted. “That’s just the cat in them.”
So, Soap disappeared that morning to one of the hybrid-focused markets outside the base—where all kinds of “species-approved” goods were sold. Treats, supplements, scent-soaked chew toys, and—yes—feline-grade refined catnip, fermented in flower jars and sealed with lavender wax.He practically sprinted back to base with the fancy sachet, feeling victorious. The catnip was wrapped in thin silk with embroidered pawprints on it and carried a handwritten label: "Royal Bloom: Pure Catnip Blend — Handle with Care."
Soap, of course, didn’t read that last part.
He was so excited to show it off that he skipped the usual stealth and ran straight into the base.
“Gaz! Mate! You won’t believe what I got them—!”
He never got the chance to finish.Because just as he turned the corner into the rec hall, he collided full-speed with Ghost.
SMACK.
The sachet exploded like a pollen bomb. A soft greenish mist puffed into the air. Ghost stood there, deadpan as always, now covered in powdered catnip from the neck down.
The hallway went silent.
Soap took a full step back, ears pinned.Gaz rounded the corner, stopped dead at the sight of a wraith hybrid covered in cat dust and a wolf hybrid frozen mid-panic.
Soap coughed. “M-maybe it blends in with his mask? Maybe you can't tell?”
“Soap.”
“Yeah?”
“You spilled catnip on a wraith. The one hybrid who doesn’t even like physical contact.”
“Oh no.”
A few minutes later, you entered. Fresh from patrol, stretching your limbs lazily, ears twitching, tail flicking once. You’d caught wind of something odd the second you stepped into the hallway. Something sweet. Something feral.
Eyes locked on Ghost.
Then—
Sniff.
Your pupils dilated into slits.
One pawstep forward. Twitch.
Another sniff.
Your entire tail puffed up, ears swiveling, head tilting.
"...Is that..."
Sniff sniff sniff—
Your nose twitched violently. Then your expression melted. Into bliss. Pure, feral bliss.
Your legs wobbled as you stumbled toward Ghost.
Soap barely had time to whisper, "Wait—nonono—"
WHUMP.
You faceplanted into Ghost’s chest with a deep, guttural purr. Rubbed your cheek all over him like a possessed ragdoll. Arms wrapped tight around his waist. Kneading motion initiated.
“Mine,” you mumbled, rolling your body over his arm like a noodle. “So warm…”
Ghost stood there.
Completely still.
Covered in catnip.
With a feline hybrid attached to him like a magnet.
“...Soap,” Ghost said, voice low, “I am going to kill you.”
“I said sorry!”
Gaz was wheezing.
Price entered the hallway just in time to see you rubbing your face all over Ghost’s mask like it was a pillow. “...The hell happened?”
Soap raised his hand sheepishly. “Birthday present.”
Price stared. Then nodded once. “Makes sense.”