#omg it’s grown back out to that perfect long and fluffy length

[heartthroblopez]

Hello???

His hair???

His arms???

Omg he is SO FINE, I just can’t 😩😮‍💨🫠

[msbeccieboo]

Arrow 7x14 brain dump

I loved this episode!!  I think I hadn’t really hyped it up too much in my mind so that undoubtedly helped, and sure, there was a lot of superfluous shit, but I feel like I just have to come to terms with that now, and overall it delivered on some areas I’d hoped it to, and also in lots that I hadn’t expected it to!  As always, succinctness is not my speciality, and I think this one is at an all-time record length (*titters*), so get comfortable…

Olicity

SHE TOLD HIMMMMM!!!!  I think that was just my minimum requirement for the episode, which is probably why I ended up loving it; we got lots more than that!!  Olicity didn’t get as much air time as I would have liked for the episode immediately following the Olicity Baby Reveal, but I think the episode delivered quality, where quantity was definitely lacking.

I loved the parallel of Felicity’s nightmare with Oliver’s from 7x01 respectively.  In the first half of the episode we could see that she still was doubting herself and her ability to keep the baby safe, which although wasn’t stated explicitly, was clear to me at least, and I am so glad we saw that and not just immediate baby-bliss.  This lead into poor Oliver trying and failing to get in touch with William 😭 by filling up his answering machine (to which we later find FF William discovering an answer machine-style cassette…subtle as ever there arrow writers).

The next time we saw Olicity was in an OTA scene (at long last), which I will delve into later, but special mention to Oliver’s little Felicity Smile™ when she cracks her OTA joke 😍.

Source:olicitygifs

Continued under the cut

The most wonderful Olicity scene for me wasn’t the big reveal, but the sofa scene.  I loved this so so much.  For the first time, Oliver really acknowledged Felicity’s pain from when he was in prison, and acknowledged that he hadn’t acknowledged it haha.  This in and of itself made me tear up…Oliver the GROWTH 😭😭  

Source:oliverxfelicity

But then he continued!!  He told Felicity that he thought there was a better way than killing Diaz, but that he had no right to make that call for her.  He would back any move of hers and have her back “no.matter.what” *ugly crying*. 

Source:feilcityqueen

Furthermore, he wants her to make her choice so she can get closure on Diaz, allowing Olicity to move forward!!!

This recognition and support are what Felicity has needed from Oliver for months!!  He has likely only just been able to come to these realisations himself recently, after dealing with his own crap, and losing William etc, but he came to them on his own, before knowing about the baby and knowing he would have to ‘do better’.  He knows there has been a distance between him and Felicity and he will do his part to allow her to help herself so they can come back together, and it is glorious!!!

Source:oliverxfelicity

This scene could have only been improved by some hand holding or other canoodling, but I am more than happy with the scene as we got it!!

Then at last we come to the big reveal.  I must say I think they could have and should have given more time and attention to this scene; I can only hope that they didn’t because of all the fluffy parent-to-be-ness that we are about to see unfold over the coming episodes???  Let a girl dream for now at least!  Stephen and Emily, as usual, killed it with what they had to work with.  From Oliver’s gentle acknowledgement of Felicity’s go-to comfort food, mint chip, to Felicity’s explanation of why she didn’t need to kill Diaz; she needed her family to live in the light and their children to know that they would do anything for them….wait, what??? *cue Oliver’s gorgeous confused puppy face* Your children, because…

Source:oliverxfelicity

Felicity’s beautiful smile when she told him, and Oliver’s sappy happy face when he realised….YAAAAAASSSS!!!!  My heart exploded!!  Then, *end scene* 😡.  But you know what, at this moment in time I’m still so floaty-happy for them that I can live with this!

Flash Forwards

Oh my wow I love the Clayton-Smoak-Queen siblings!!!  You can clearly see Oliver and Felicity in both of them; but Will is still obviously a mini-Felicity, whereas Mia is SO MUCH OLIVER, which is so bittersweet, given that she seems to have been raised by Felicity alone (WHYYYY?!?! *sobs*). 

Source:oliverxfelicity

Mia, it seems, has a somewhat typical love/hate relationship with her Mother, which I’m sure lots of us can identify with.  On one hand she clearly resents Felicity’s paranoia, her insistence on ‘bonding’ with things such as the Rubik’s cube and tech, which she doesn’t seem to have an interest in, but then her love for her shines through with her insistence of going after her alone (hello mini Oliver) and the line “my Mom is the only person I care about” 😭😭😭  

Source:ebett

Then our gorgeous grown up Will 😍 is all Felicity in his belief in Oliver as a hero and his techy geekdom, but HELLO OLIVER in the way he instantly loves and sticks up for his sister (even with them arguing, he just softened, and even turned on Dinah when she questioned Mia) and talks about family, despite how he has come to feel abandoned by Olicity.  That last line in his scene with Mia where he says “Well did it work?” could have been spoken by Stephen himself; his expression, his intonation…perfect Oliver impression Ben, well done, A+!  They work so well together on screen; I loved their back-and-forth in their scenes.  I can’t wait to see them interacting more, especially, I hope, in the all FF episode.  I think they will be a force to be reckoned with!

The bro-sis Rubik’s cube solving champions discover the mini answering phone cassette, which Mia can’t even comprehend; “can you hack it?” lol (makes me feel suuuper old).  This has surely got to at least contain some of Olicity’s attempts to contact William, to let him know he wasn’t abandoned, and at most, another of Felicity’s clues.  I just can’t wrap my head around the blatant plot-hole that is Olicity not ever managing to get in touch with William, even with the crazy tech skills on both ends of the dynamic??  I call bullshit!  I need to know what’s going on guysssss!!!  

Elsewhere, Connor supposedly didn’t know about Mia’s heritage (so no baby OTA growing up together *sad face*), except he secretly did cos his adopted father Dig asked him to watch over her!  So Connor isn’t JJ??  Where is JJ?? ISTG Larry if you erased another baby Diggle I will travel through time and kill you myself!!  Connor and Mia are clearly super close (shipping them already), and the hurt on Mia’s face when she found out Connor had lied to her the whole time broke my heart!!  I also need a scene with Roy and Mia soon; did anyone else notice how as soon as Mia revealed her parentage, he dropped his bow from pointing on her…YAAAAASS UNCLE ROY!!!  But why does no one but Dig know about Mia’s existence????  Did Olicity go into hiding??  Is this why they never managed to contact William again? Whaaaat???  Je suis confuse!!!

Bonus: Future OTA, or FTA, if you will, is totally going to be a thing I’m sure of it!  The actors seem so much fun and are always interacting on social media/live tweeting etc.  It is so nice to have cast so actively participating in promotion this year.  It’s at a point now where I would definitely give a next generation series a watch, and I can’t wait for the all flash forward episode now, even though the whole future set-up seems harrowingly disparate from what we would like to imagine.  I need to know more damnit!!

OTA/Delicity

OTA has finally (just about) reunited!!!!  It’s only been 6437280462308 years guys!!  Dig finally realises he’s been keeping the Diaz secret from Olicity for too long, so he offers them up the truth, in a “SPONTANEOUS OTA MOMENT”.  Honestly, Felicity’s sass in this scene and all the Dig scenes to be fair is just a beautiful thing to see.  Felicity rightfully tells John that this is the second time he has prioritised his ARGUS work over his friends’ safety and he looks rightfully ashamed of himself. Oliver naturally doesn’t agree with using Diaz, but has suddenly become official OTA reconciliator, and trusts Dig to get shit done, eventually offering his help with Felicity’s blessing and assistance.  

With OTA officially back in the field and like 57 things going on, Felicity takes her chance on taking out Diaz, confronting him with a gun again, and finally telling him that she is in fact stronger than him, and hence doesn’t need to kill him…Dig is ultimately left to decide between helping Oliver capture Dante, or Felicity stop Diaz and praise the salmon ladder he chooses to help Felicity!!

Source:felicitysmoakgifs

I loved Felicity realising her own strength, and maintaining her ‘light’, seeing and knowing that her teammate finally had her back!!  Dig tells her that although Dante was the mission objective, Diaz (and by that he meant Felicity) was his priority!!  My Delicity heart!!!!!  Dig has one last ace up his sleeve, later telling Olicity that he realised how letting Diaz go last time had hurt Felciity, and that the most important thing should be to just protect his OTA family!!!  And just like that, OTA RISES FROM THE ASHES!!!

Bonus:  OMG I just realised that the Brothers and Sisters theme of the episode relates to OTA as well!! 😭😍😭😍😭😍

Felicity/BS

When did I become a BS stan??  Who even am I?  What do I believe in? 😱 🤷‍♀️🤯

I love Felicity’s relationship with BS.  I want to be friends with both of them.  I want to drink wine with BS whilst Felicity grumbles about drinking de-caff coffee. I think I need more sleep. Forgive me fandom friends for I have sinned 🙈😂😂

I see people saying that their friendship doesn’t make sense, and no, if you look directly from S6 to now, it doesn’t.  But if you watch S7 episode-by-episode you can totally believe that they got to the place they are in now.  They’ve grown from reluctant allies, to gaining a mutual respect, to growing to like one another.  And the shade is still totally there on both parts from Felicity’s “fake lawyer” (CLASSIC LINE), to BS calling Felicity out on her chocolate consumption haha.

So BS knew about the baby before Oliver did.  I am not majorly angry with this because…she just guessed!!  Felicity didn’t tell her.  Felicity was mortified that she’d put it all together and begged her to not tell anyone. Our girl was just coming to terms with it herself, and working out how to tell Oliver, which she is perfectly entitled to do.  

The scene where BS brings Felicity food and gives her a pep talk was totes adorbs 😍 Do I wish it was the type of conversation Felicity had had with Oliver instead?  Sure, and I’m sure we will in the future, and we got different Olicity goodies in this episode in its place.  

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

BS is all over Felicity being preggers…I’m wondering if maybe she lost a baby or lost someone with a baby on E2??  She just seems to be all about looking after Felicity, and the baby, to almost an excessive point, with random pregnancy knowledge thrown in there too 🤔

Side-note: I am all about Felicity eating ALL OF THE FOOD in this episode hahaha!  “I ate that much choc before I was pregnant” LOOOOOL!!  She continues to be the cutest.

Source:felicitysmoakgifs

Emiko/Oliver

Oh Oliver.  I feel for him so much with Emiko.  He just wants to get to know her, and make up for lost time and poor choices by Robert.  He misses Thea.  He is blinded by his love for his new sister.  This is why whenever they try to tell us ‘Oliver doesn’t trust people’ I’m like HUH?!  I see Oliver as probably the most naturally trusting person on the show, only his experiences have proven him wrong so often.  He has to believe in others, so he can believe in himself after everything he has been through/done.  He gives almost everyone the benefit of the doubt, especially family, even when it’s blatantly obvious that they don’t deserve it.  Oliver has such a big heart, and loves his family so deeply and at times, blindly. And here, with Emiko, that is what he is doing (when he should have been at home celebrating baby-making with some more practice baby-making 😉).  I don’t like Emiko…oh she’s working with the Big Bad, shocker!  I thought that she would turn out dead or a villain, given as she isn’t part of the ‘mark of 4’ gang in the future.  I’m not convinced she’s full-on evil though, not yet at least.  But the concept of her being a baddie kind of makes sense as to why they’ve made her so unlikeable.  That said, I really enjoyed the ‘sibling rivalry’ scenes they shared. Oliver in her personal space “do you have to stand right there?”, Oliver critiquing her arrows, “don’t touch my things!” 😂😂 I do think they spent too much time on them in this episode (even though it was called Brothers and Sisters, I know).  I just can’t be bothered to get too involved with her storyline, for the minute at least, as I think it will be temporary.  

ARGUS/Diaz

This is my let-down of the episode, (and every episode) but you can’t win them all!  Suicide squad blah, Diaz blah, Virgil (isn’t he a Thunderbird??) blah, Dante (Highlander!)….kinda blah!  The shame is, I think Dante could’ve been a far better villain if they’d made me know/care about him earlier in the season?  Maybe they can rescue him?  I mean, Prometheus didn’t really come into his own until the last few episodes, so I guess there’s hope???

But Diggle quit-yaaaay!! Bye bye ugly security guard outfit!!

LIZARD BOY GOT LIT UPPPPP!!! 

Burn bay burn!!  Bye bitch!!  I’m pretty sure this is the episode that the actor tweeted his goodbyes after?  What a sorry exit if so *evil laugh*.  There’s a fair bit of speculation over who killed him, but unless it was Felicity sneaking in in the dead of night to do so, I struggle to care 🤷‍♀️

Massive thank you to the gif makers; you have made this long-ass post more colourful 😘

[buttercupsfrocks]

Hey, Tumblr, did you know that there’s an Interior Design Police as well as a Fashion Police?! Strangely neither did I until I stumbled upon a listicle entitled 75 Things No Woman Over 50 Should Own on the delusionarily titled bestlifeonline.com. There, along with the usual arbitrary selections of sartorial crimes against humanity, (tracky bottoms, skinny scarves, bolero jackets), were the following:-

Tapestries. (What, even if one designed and made them oneself, comme ça?)

Neon signs.

A piggy bank.

Novelty salt and pepper shakers, (Oops!)

A vinyl tablecloth. 

Novelty pillows. (Dang!)

A rolodex.

Indoor wicker furniture.

A lava lamp. (Who doesn’t love a lava lamp? Not this fully paid up B52s fan, I can assure you).

A dish of seashells.  (D’oh! Missed the memo again).

Framed autographs (yep, got one of those too).

Talk about random. And there’s more; much more. It appears I should have jettisoned my giant pin boards at least twenty years ago, along with my magnifying mirror, stuffed animals, coloured pens, fairy lights, frameless posters, cheap mismatched silverware, decorations based on cartoon characters, mismatched towels, striped wallpaper, tassels, and elaborate keychains. (They’d have a blue fit if they knew that one of my keychains has both a twiddly fake key and a tassel on it). In fact the entire website is little more than an endless litany of stuff you should feel ashamed about owning, wearing, and in some cases, even saying. Like I totes can’t say “totes” – me, a writer, who loves slang so much she has at least a bookshelf-and-a-half dedicated to it. I also can’t say: “OMG”,  “humblebrag”, “talk to the hand”, “fauxpology”, “sorry not sorry”, “I can’t even”, “as if”, “sus”, (a term in common UK parlance among people of all age groups for the duration of my lifetime), “ship”, (fuck you; Spuffy forever), and…wait for it…”adulting”, even though I plainly know a good deal more about doing it than the embarrassingly embarassable twelve year old ninny who probably wrote the article.

And still on the subjects of lists that give me the right royal pip, there’s thelist.com. 

“If you are familiar with Dr Martens, you are too old to wear them.” 

I’m sorry, what now?! 

“We know those Crocs and orthopaedic shoes are super comfy, but they're not doing you any favours. There's something to be said for smart, sensible footwear, but you don't have to sacrifice your style and give away your age just to save yourself a few blisters”.

Unless of course you suffer with any kind of condition that dictates you  have to wear fugly orthopaedic footwear, as numerous older people do. And blisters are the least of my problems, bub. Believe me the bunting and party hats come out when I can persuade anything approaching normal-looking footwear to accommodate my orthotics. Doc Martens are one of the precious few options available to me. I am, incidentally, feeling especially “salty” (another word my age precludes me from using), about this right now as, having discovered I can sometimes wear sandals with a moulded orthotic-like sole, these Office sandals... 

...which I genuinely love and desperately wanted to rock this summer, damn near crippled me when I tried them on. 

For all the blather about older women being able to cast off the shackles of convention and wear what we please, (or whatever the expert du jour thinks is within reason), the same unspoken assumptions that prevail in mainstream ladymedia are present in spades on these websites. Nobody reading could possibly be fat, or if they are they’re assumed to be fighting their poor beleaguered bodies unto death. The only chub ever alluded to, (albeit soto voce), is “middle aged spread”, but only the vestigial kind that can be miraculously rendered  invisible by the belting of an “unflattering” oversized garment in the middle. 

“Show off your curves by adding a cute belt to that dress or coat. It will accentuate your shape and let you still wear those comfortable items in your wardrobe without looking like you're wearing a muumuu.”

Never mind that I quite like wearing a muumuu, far from showing off my curves, belting any of my coats would make me look like the Albert Hall, which while undoubtably a Look, is not one I’m after.  

“Balance is important when it comes to crafting a stylish look. Wearing oversized clothing disrupts that delicate equilibrium and unintentionally ages you.”  

What. Ever. 

The hectoring never lets up. 

“There really is no such thing as grown up glitter when it comes to apparel, so it's best to accept that fact and avoid glittery tops, bottoms, and everything else!” 

“Dressing like the '80s or '90s can be fun for a party, but being attached to a trend from your youth can look tired and disconnected and therefore can make one age themselves.” 

“Large prints, especially on a tight clothing item like leggings, are an avoid-at-all-costs look. They are just too loud and aren't a piece that helps you look your best”

Among the ten items everyday.health.com bans me from wearing on account of my encroaching dotage are “too trendy denim”. Apparently I’m “not in my element” with it so my hard work was all for nought. Also verboten are oversized, overly decorated hobo bags, cheap unflattering underwear; (fat chance of finding cheap underwear in plus-sizes anyway though apparently I should do like the Sainted Gwyneth and wear Spanx under everything. Because she totally needs to and I so enjoy colic); and…wait for it…wait for it...  

...“loud accessories”. This includes, horror of horrors, plastic earrings, which apparently I forfeited the right to wear at 35. (Do they count vintage phenolic, bakelite, and lucite as plastic I wonder? Because if enough rich older women get dissuaded from wearing it I might actually be able to afford some instead of faking it). Instead I’m exhorted to make a... 

“Stunning Substitute: think quality and quantity. Limit yourself to one funky accessory per outfit – as long as it’s well-made. Think a leopard-print scarf, thin silver bangles or a gold clutch to dress up nice jeans and a simple top”. 

Yeah, no. And, by the way here’s a picture of Helen Mirren in quite the loudest plastic necklace I’ve ever seen which, as you can plainly see, ages her terribly. 

*snort*

Which brings me neatly to the subject of role models. Dame Helen comes up a lot. Here’s Harper’s Bazaar with some more:

“Pay close attention to the way women like Robin Wright, Julianne Moore, and Kristin Scott Thomas dress. And revel in the moment when you can justify shopping for labels like Céline, Calvin Klein, Jil Sander, and the Row — because not all sweaters are created equal. The Perfect Length (not too long, not Rihanna short), with the just-tantalizing-enough neckline, is more than worth the extra zeros”.  

Wow. So much nope to pick apart in just three sentences! 

Firstly, while I’m sure they’re all perfectly charming, I look nothing at all like any of these women, so why would I aspire to their style? Secondly, they have allllllll the extra zeros in their bank accounts while I have zero zeros. Thirdly, even if I could afford any of those labels, (a sweater from The Row costs well over a thousand quid by the way), why the love of little fluffy kittens would anyone think I want to dress like this?

I mean I know I like an oversized garment but I’m good with Monki, thanks. If that lot doesn’t say, “this was the only shit I could find to fit me”, I don’t know what does. And quite what the tiny, terminally haggard looking Olsen twins, who dreamed up the wretched label, would look like in any of this eye-bleedingly expensive folderol I shudder to think. You’d probably need to send in the fire brigade to find them in all that fabric, poor loves.

At its root shaming-as-entertainment is a tool for capitalism, both simple and complex. Feel mortified for owning something age inappropriate? Buy something new and more grown up, preferably at enormous expense. Or, if pay day’s too far off, invest in some garbage gossip rag and bitch about the state of those richer and more famous than you are. It’ll make you feel great for all of five minutes, then you can fill the emptiness that follows in its wake with some cheap fast fashion or cake. Even though cake is naughty and unclean and fast fashion is killing the environment; but hey that’s what diet books (kerching!) and gym memberships (kerching!) and ethical fashion, (with a cut-off size of 16), are for, right? 

Ironically, in yet another catalogue of grievous mistakes to make once you’re over forty, bestlifemyarse.com includes “neglecting your mental health” and “basing yourself-worth on what other people think”. But how the hell are women expected to do that under a constant barrage of opprobrium, not least since also included in the aforementioned list is “avoiding the scale”?

Tumblr, I put it to you that people are just as likely to buy stuff if they’re feeling good about themselves than if they’re feeling shite. I fucking love stuff but there has to be an alternative way to sell it that’s less damaging to our sanity and self esteem. That’s in part why fat women created their own media. But, the more it edges into the mainstream, the more it it puts the wind up advertisers and those who rely on their sponsorship. So now our message – the one about self acceptance and being able to live unrepentantly in the bodies we have – has been appropriated, de-fanged, and rebranded as “Body Positivity”, an ersatz movement intended to reassure average-sized women fretful they might be a little bit fat, with the added proviso, “as long as you’re healthy”, (i.e not fat). And while the net abounds with token examples of older lady bloggers granted the status of fashion maven, they’re all slender as reeds, and most of them are ex-models. Big fucking whoop. Meanwhile anyone of any age who is objectively fat is “promoting obesity” simply by expressing our personal style in public.

My collection of shells incidentally, includes some my mum brought me back from the Channel Islands when I was a child; a conch a friend dove for  in the Virgin Islands and presented me for my 19th birthday; several beauties that held pride of place in a late family friend’s study for decades; an abalone shell from New Zealand plucked from the beach by my Kiwi pal Di; a sand dollar from Ocean Beach in San Francisco given to me by my dear friend Jude who died of secondary breast cancer a few months before Jane did; some pebbles gathered with my friend Lesley in literal sub-zero temperatures on a completely deserted beach one not-so-flaming June up north, both of us in hysterics over the utter bleakness of it all, and a load more shells from the Pembrokeshire coast contributed by my friend Steve’s departed mum back in the 1980s. Even the bowl itself was given to me by Karen, whose parents found it in the attic of their new house and thought I might like it. It’s a veritable a lifetime in shells; a celebration of love and friendship spanning decades. In short it has meaning, which is a damned sight more than you can say for any of these wretched lists.

Rise above the buzzkill, Tumblr.

[jincherie]

Inheritance | pt.6 [FINAL*]

Pairing: Yoongi x reader Genre: fluff, hybrid!au, angst/conflict, future smut Words: 7k Rating: sfw Warnings: the toxic family strikes again!! Family discourse, swearing, angst? Notes: wow this took for-fucking-ever I am so sorry for being THAT bitch omg anyways enjoy!! btw I have something somewhat steamy planned for an afterstory— what? Nothing. Thanks for sticking with this so long, I hope you enjoy it! 

After your grandmother passed she left everything to you. Her house, her fortune, and apparently… her cat? The grumpy male hybrid you encounter at her house is anything but the tame housecat you’d expected to find. Fulfilling your grandmother’s last request to look after him becomes a lot harder when he seems to be avoiding you, and your dissatisfied relatives start stirring up trouble.

Masterlist || Prev. | Afterstory*

Two days had passed since Taehyung had come to visit, and you were cautiously optimistic. On one hand, you were feeling on top of the world. You hadn’t heard a peep from your relatives, you and Yoongi were closer than ever, and not only were the two of you enjoying each other’s company, but your skin was the clearest it had ever been— an unforeseen, but very welcome bonus. You had so many reasons to be overjoyed and content, and you were— until your mind ventured too far into the details.

You were counting it as a good thing that you hadn’t heard from your relatives, remaining optimistic that it was an indicator you’d gotten in ahead of them, and this whole thing would thus blow over smoothly. But really, the fact that you hadn’t seen hide nor hair of them was also cause for concern. If they hadn’t shown back up, then historically that meant they were plotting something, or enacting said plot. It was when your mind ventured down this particular track that you found your mood dropping. There was a fear that niggled in the back of your thoughts that maybe you’d been too late, that maybe they were one step ahead and there was still a possibility of losing Yoongi to them.

Thoughts like this brought your mood down, but in a house where you weren’t alone anymore you certainly weren’t left to dwell on it. Almost as though Yoongi had an extra sense that was attuned specially to you, the second you found yourself thinking something along those lines and your mood changed, he would be by your side. He’d grasp your hand in his— he’d grown a lot bolder since your venture to the park, although he still sported a pretty blush whenever he did something particularly daring— and tug you in the direction of the living room. With something playing on the large TV to serve as a visual distraction, he would pull you gently down next to him on the couch, his arm and tail curling around you securely as you slotted perfectly into his side. It was the perfect distraction, because even if the massive TV didn’t capture your attention, then being immersed in the warmth and safety of his embrace, surrounded by his subtle minty scent and feeling his heart thrum against your cheek where it pressed against his chest, certainly did.

In fact, it was a fairly similar position that you’d found yourself in now. It was a cold and dreary day, rain hammering down heavily outside and thunder rumbling in the distance, and you’d both finished lunch not long ago. You’d run out of things to do for the day, and so had suggested a movie— to your surprise Yoongi had agreed without a moments hesitation. Now here you both were, seated comfortably on the plushest couch in the living room with the lights off and a movie of the hybrid’s choice beginning to play on the large flatscreen.

You were seated close to each other, arms brushing occasionally, but neither of you moved. A part of you wished you could rest in his arms once more but you were far to embarrassed to even try and initiate anything of the sort. Instead you tried to distract yourself from those thoughts and focus on the movie, and you would have been able to had something not been flickering your peripheral vision.

It was Yoongi’s ears, twitching and shifting as they adjusted to each sound and voice that came from the TV. His gaze was trained on the screen, but as you turned to watch his ears fully he eventually noticed your gaze. He turned slightly, the lightest traces of a blush on his cheeks, “What?”

You couldn’t help the flush that heated your own cheeks as you were torn from your thoughts and realised he’d caught you staring— you’d been thinking about what his ears would feel like, what it would be like to pet them. You weren’t going to lie, it was a thought you’d entertained a lot, and sitting so close to him like you were now, the urge was a lot stronger than it usually was. On a whim, you decided to just go for it.

“Can I pet your ears?” you asked before you lost the impulse that had carried you this far. Yoongi blinked, eyes wide in shock. All of his attention was now on you, and you could feel your cheeks heating even more. Slight regret began to seep into your bones and you stuttered slightly, about to take it back when the hybrid beside you spoke.

“Sure,” Yoongi said, a slight nervous waver to his gravelly tone that you mightn’t have picked up had you not been living with him for a while. His cheeks were bright pink and you had to resist the strange urge to coo at his cuteness that rose within you. “You can, uh… you can pet them.”

You couldn’t help the bright smile that overtook your face at his permission, your hand raising immediately to get started. It must have alarmed Yoongi however, as he suddenly squawked, “Gently!”

You giggled, moving slower and first resting your hand on his head, slowly brushing your fingers through his hair. His raven locks were surprisingly soft, silky against your skin. The hybrid watched you curiously, like he was wondering exactly what you were going to do, and it struck you as a bit odd.

“Yoongi,” you began, scratching your nails lightly down his scalp. His eyes fluttered closed in bliss, mouth dropping open slightly as the softest of noises began to build in his chest. He hummed, and you continued, “Has anyone ever pet your ears before?”

“No,” he mumbled distractedly as your nails scratched just behind one of his ears, that sound in his chest growing louder as you continued your ministrations. It took you a second to realise that he was purring, like some big overgrown cat. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to squash a squeal that threatened to rise up your throat.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, but Yoongi was enjoying himself far too much to even notice you’d said anything. You used your nails to scratch lightly up his ear and his body sagged, tension leaving his form all at once as his body leant into your touch. His purring grew even louder, the sound bordering on what you’d hear in big cats when they growled, except lighter, less threatening. His fluffy, raven tail was thrashing and curling happily behind him.

You continued petting him, drinking in his blissful reactions, but soon enough your arm began to grow tired from being held up the entire time. You spoke on another whim, “Yoongi, lay your head on my lap. My arm is starting to hurt.”

You’d expected a bit of backlash, maybe a cheeky comment in return, but all you got was a hybrid dropping his head on your lap without so much as a split-second of hesitation, purrs rumbling from his throat and vibrating along your leg. His hand came up to grip your thigh and he cuddled closer, pressing against you contently. You had to squash the soft gasp that accompanied the several skipped beats your heart performed; he was like putty in your hands and you could hardly believe it. You immediately went back to work, with both hands this time— you didn’t want to squander the opportunity he was presenting to you and ruin the moment.

Yoongi looked like he’d never been in such a state of utter happiness and bliss before, and to be honest it sparked a certain amount of pride in you to know you were the one making him feel this way. You alternated between dragging your nails gently down his scalp and rubbing the soft, black fur on his ears, rubbing your thumb against the flow of hair then back over again to smooth it. Yoongi didn’t stop purring the entire time, his whole body lax where it lay across your lap and the couch.

Eventually you trailed your hand further, dragging your nails and scratching at where his hairline met the nape of his neck, eliciting a shudder and a pleased hum from the hybrid under your hands. You continued like this as the movie went on, although truthfully at this point neither of you were watching it.

After a while you strayed more, one hand rubbing his scalp and ears and the other dragging your nails over his back soothingly. When you first did it, it was almost like Yoongi had literally melted onto the couch, a soft noise of happiness escaping against your thigh as his grip around it tightened slightly. It was like you were petting one big cat. From the sounds he would make, and the way his purring picked up each time you scratched down the length of his spine, he was enjoying it a lot.

You found it in yourself to tease him a bit, “I thought big cats couldn’t purr?”

Yoongi grumbled, but the happy swishing and curling of his tail in the air betrayed his true emotions. “Shut up,” he said weakly, emitting a particularly loud purr as you scratched his lower back above his tail. He sounded sleepy yet seemed surprisingly awake. “I do what I want.”

The sleek, fluffy appendage curled to wrap loosely around your wrist, keeping you there whether it was his intention or not, and you let out a soft chuckle both at his words and his actions. Gently, since you were unsure whether he would receive it well, you shifted your hand and dragged your fingers ever so lightly over the length of his tail. The appendage trembled happily, curling over your fingers, and Yoongi let out a happy sigh. You were glad you’d mustered the will to ask him— this was the closest you’d ever been with him, and it was making your tummy do flips.

You continued your ministrations, alternating every so often, until you grew slightly bored and as a result more adventurous. The whole time you’d only used your nails on Yoongi’s back and head, including his ears, and he’d received it pretty well. You’d only been dragging your fingers lightly through the fur on his tail thus far, and hadn’t gone very far down his tail— you’d always stop whenever you grew near the base of his tail where it joined his spine, and begin to move your hand back up. To be honest, you knew historically cats had sensitive tails, and you’d been very cautious not to hurt him and ruin the moment. But since he’d taken it so well, you wondered if he’d receive it just as well should you use your nails to gently drag over his appendage as you had done to his back, head and ears.

You decided to give it a try, moving your hand to the base of his tail and dragging your nails gently along the length of it until you reached the fluffy end. The reaction you received was much different to the one you expected; Yoongi jerked, hand gripping your thigh tightly as a large shudder rolled down his spine and a noise that sounded suspiciously like a moan escaped against your leg. He pulled back suddenly from your lap, chest heaving slightly, and his wide, dilated feline eyes found yours. The feeling that washed over you as he held your gaze was foreign, something you’d never gotten from him before, but it lit something deep in your belly that had a soft gasp passing your lips in shock.

The air between you was thick with something else until the hybrid blinked, breaking the hold he had on you, and his entire face flushed pink. As soon as his eyes released you your mind caught up with you and you panicked slightly, hands going to his shoulders. “Oh shit, Yoongi I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

He flushed further, if possible, and he stuttered slightly as he answered, “N-no! No, you didn’t hurt me. Nothing you did caused me pain.”

You couldn’t help the confused tilt of your head, “Then why—”

Yoongi sputtered, averting his gaze as he struggled to arrange his thoughts coherently, “It’s— you, my tail, um… Sensitive. My tail is…very… sensitive.”

“Oh,” you said, eyes widening. “Oh. Whoops. Uh… sorry.”

Yoongi’s cheeks were bright red, and he was looking anywhere but at you. Even though you were slightly embarrassed yourself, you couldn’t help but find his mannerisms cute. Several beats of silence passed between you, the only noise in the room coming from the long-forgotten movie playing on the TV, before he suddenly spoke once more.

“Can you, uh…” he swallowed, scratching the back of his neck. “Can you keep… petting my ears?”

At your surprised, and slightly amused look, he rushed to explain, “It’s just, no one has ever pet my ears before and it felt really… it felt nice. Please?”

You stared at him a second, admiring how awkward he was being compared to usual and trying to swallow your own embarrassment as you did so. You shot him a bright, reassuring smile. “Of course, sweet Suga. Lay your head down again and I shall hop right to it.”

Yoongi grumbled, quickly forgetting his embarrassment at the mention of your grandma’s nickname for him, but lowered his head onto your lap once more nonetheless. The second your hands brushed through his hair and scratched behind his ears his loud, rumbling purrs started up once more and a smile slipped onto your face. He was so cute— a big, overgrown cat.

The movie passed with the both of you sitting content, enjoying each other’s presence and revelling in your touch. Just like usual, with Yoongi by your side all of your worries melted into nothing and you were soothed once more.

x     x     x     x     x     x     x

It was three days after Taehyung came to visit, and earlier that morning you’d received a text from the blonde that had caused your stomach to drop slightly.

TaeTae [9:14AM] somethings come up with the paperwork don’t worry its nothing bad!! just… different? Strange?? I’ll give you a call later!

Needless to say, you were somewhat concerned. You had a nagging feeling ever since you’d woken up earlier that something was off today, and receiving that text from Taehyung didn’t help one bit. What if the paperwork wasn’t going through? Did Yoongi’s previous owners somehow still have a claim on him? What were you going to do if it turned out you couldn’t adopt him legally and keep him safe? You didn’t want him to go, you wanted him to stay— and not just because your grandmother had asked you to care for him, but because you cared for him. He’d admitted he wanted to stay with you, and spend the rest of his time with you, and you— you felt the same way. He’d grown on you so quickly, so suddenly in such a short amount of time and already you couldn’t imagine your future without him there. You didn’t want to live in this house if he wasn’t there to keep you company, shooting you gummy smiles when you complimented his cooking and bought him icecream, comforting and cuddling you when you were feeling down; your grandmother’s house had quickly become a home to you, but only because Yoongi was here too.

Perhaps, it was really Yoongi that had become a home to you.

Instantly you blushed at the thought— that was so god damn cheesy and you couldn’t believe you thought it with your own mind. It felt sudden, and quick, but honestly it was true, despite how much your logical side cringed. Being with Yoongi felt right to you, and it wasn’t something you wanted to change any time soon, or at all.

You were concerned, but ultimately couldn’t do anything, and so just decided to wait until Taehyung called you to see what was up. You were probably overreacting— it was probably something dumb, miniscule even.

Either way, you’d needed a distraction, which is how you found yourself in your current situation. You were upstairs, making your bed like a responsible adult and sorting your laundry. Boring but necessary, and you felt better after doing it. You’d spent the morning cleaning your room to keep your mind off unwelcome thoughts, and to be honest had made good progress. However you could only clean for so long; you had a short attention span after all, and you were getting bored. That’s why you’d welcomed it when you were midway through throwing clothes in the basket and a call from downstairs stole your attention.

“y/n? Come here for a second.”

Curious as to what the panther hybrid and only other occupant of the house could possibly want, you gladly ditched the clothes and plodded down the stairs. As your feet touched the bottom floor a pleasant, absolutely mouth-watering smell reached your nose and you honest to god nearly moaned out loud. You instinctively followed the delectable scent to the kitchen and were only somewhat surprised to see Yoongi by the bench, fanning a tray of what looked like chocolate chip cookies. You nearly leapt for joy.

“Aw, Suga,” you cooed the nickname, shuffling forward happily to slip your arms around his back in a playful manner. He jumped, having heard you approach but not expecting the intimate position he found himself in. “You made cookies? How domestic. They look amazing.”

Yoongi tried to scowl but there wasn’t any heart in it. The slightest of smiles was tugging his lips, fondness leaking into his deep tone, “Shut up or you don’t get any,” he grumbled, peering at you over his shoulder as you parted from his back, your fingers lingering against his sides for a split-second longer. “And of course they look amazing, I made them. They taste amazing too.”

You laughed, moving so you were standing beside him, and going to grab a cookie off the tray. Yoongi’s lightning reflexes made an appearance as he swatted your hand before you could even touch one, eliciting a surprised yelp. “Yah idiot, don’t touch them yet. They’re still hot.”

You pouted, gaze longingly trained on the steaming cookies that were taunting you from the bench. Yoongi snickered at your expression, taking a cookie off of a tray you hadn’t noticed slightly to the side and bringing it up to your lips. “You can have this one, it’s cooled down more.”

You took the offered treat eagerly between your teeth, before he decided to take it back, and nearly moaned out loud the second you bit into it. Chocolate, warm and gooey, melted onto your tongue and the cookie broke into separate, delicious bits of sweetness and sugar in your mouth. Where the hell had he been hiding such an ability?

“Yoongi,” you shot him a wide-eyed look. “How could you keep this from me so long? You have a gift.”

There was a blush forming on the hybrid’s cheeks that had a certain fondness blossoming in your heart. “Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffed half-heartedly, averting his gaze to the cookies as he began moving them off the tray. “They’re just cookies.”

At the sound of him telling you to stop being dramatic, you immediately did the opposite and amped up the dramatics tenfold. You draped an arm over his shoulder as you spoke, “Just cookies? Cookies that taste like they were made at the hands of a god, you mean.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, and while he was distracted you took the opportunity to nab the cookie he was currently transferring and shove it in your mouth. He let out an affronted noise and you giggled, almost choking as you did so before you recovered smoothly and swallowed, shooting him a winning smile that elicited yet another eyeroll. You were feeling so warm, on top of the world almost, your heart swelling with nothing but love and affection for the hybrid before you. You almost didn’t notice when there was a series of shuffles behind you.

“Ah, how sweet.”

And all at once your heart dropped and the grin froze on your face. Yoongi’s ears shot up and back, gaze whipping behind you and his tail thrashing in agitation behind him as his hackles rose. You turned, your fear confirmed by the sight of your two aunts before you and several officers behind them. They donned different uniforms to officers that patrolled the streets— these men worked for what was commonly known to as the Pound, a government-managed unit that monitored and oversaw hybrid affairs. You could resist your aunts, but these officers? Legally, your hands were tied. Dread touched your lungs and stole the breath from your lips with creeping tendrils, your eyes wide and mind racing to take in the situation in its entirety. It hit you at once, and immediately you felt nauseous.

If they were here, that meant they’d already taken action— if they were here, it meant they’d already been successful.

It meant they were here to take Yoongi, and without papers or hearing back from Taehyung, there was nothing you could do to stop them.

It was like all of your worst fears had manifested at once. You could feel the animosity emanating from the hybrid behind you, a low growl splitting the air in a similar fashion to the last time your aunts had arrived unannounced. He was responding to the threat before him and you could feel the danger as it danced in the air and caressed your skin. You felt Yoongi’s hand grip the back of your shirt and you found yourself clinging to the slight sense of calm and comfort it brought you.

“Neither of you are welcome here,” you said sharply, eyes narrowed in a cold glare. “Get out of this house. Now.”

Priscilla grinned, a sight that further cemented the dread filling your stomach. She knew she’d already won, she knew she’d gotten in before you’d had a chance to fight back, and she was revelling in it. Her perfectly curled blonde locks tumbled from her shoulder as she tilted her head, crimson-painted lips splitting in her glee. They’d dressed up for the occasion, visage immaculate and fit for the cover of any prestigious magazine. Designer clothes adorned their svelte forms, limbs heavy with gold and jewels. Looking at them, a special type of anger began to simmer within you. How could they be so selfish, so petty? They already had everything they could ever need, yet you could tell they weren’t going to rest until you had nothing left.

“Honey,” she brought her fingers to rest on her chin, gel nails glimmering. “I don’t think you’re in a position to be telling us what to do right now.”

Janine gazed down at her nails, inspecting the flawless pink manicure as her high tone pierced the air, sickly sweet coating causing a peculiar cocktail of anger and nausea to bubble up your oesophagus. The officers behind her shifted slightly at the sound of her voice. “y/n, dear, you know why we’re here. You can make this much easier for everyone if you cooperate and do what we want.”

You bristled, and there was a spike in the snarls tearing from Yoongi’s throat as he sensed your emotional distress. The hand on your shirt tightened slightly.

You knew there was truly nothing you could do, but you weren’t about to lay down and let them take your hybrid without a fight. “No,” you glared, “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again— you can’t take him. I won’t let you.”

Priscilla grinned, clapping her delicately gloved hands together. “Honey, you don’t have a choice!” she crowed, pulling a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket and unfolding it before your eyes. “We have written permission from his previous owners, and I think you know what that means, y/n.”

You did, and it only caused the hopeless frustration within you to grow. You felt it as Yoongi stiffened behind you, his grip on your shirt tightening and his elongated nails piercing the fabric to prick your skin.

“I’m not going anywhere with any of you,” Yoongi spoke up from behind you, voice low with a dark, unspoken promise lining its edge that had your hairs raising and a visible shudder rolling through the women before you. The officers seemed slightly more resistant to the effects of the predator hybrid’s snarls and threatening air.

Janine piped in with glee, repeating Priscilla’s earlier words, “You don’t have a choice! This letter means our claim is the only one the courts will recognise. Even if it’s by force,” her head tilted to the officers behind her in a reminder, “you will be coming with us.”

One of the officers, a large, bulky man to the left of your aunt, took a step forward, and you immediately took one back. Your arm flew out on instinct, as though to prevent him from getting to Yoongi, as your back bumped into his chest. The frustration within you bubbled and curled against your lungs, shortening your breath and luring panic from where it lay dormant within you. There was nothing you could do, but you needed to do something.

“No!” you couldn’t stop the cry as it tore from your throat. You glared further at the two of the people that had done nothing but hurt you for their own gain your entire life. “I will not let you take him. He doesn’t deserve whatever shit you’re going to throw at him, and he most certainly doesn’t deserve to be stuck with two nasty old women who are so embittered with their own lives and who they are that the only thing they know to do is ruin the lives of people around them. He deserves better than you.”

“y/n, please,” your aunt rolled her eyes, sending a spike of fury down your spine. She flicked her blonde curls back over her shoulder, adjusting her stance. The heel of her Valentino clacked against the tile floor. “Save the dramatics— you’re an adult, darling. Act like one, and we won’t have a problem here.”

Yoongi snarled, and while Priscilla cowered your other aunt voiced her agreement, “The officers here aren’t just for the hybrid, y/n. If you resist they will restrain you, and we will take him by force.”

The absolute smug satisfaction painting Janine’s fine features had your blood boiling, all of your helplessness and frustration melting into white hot fury that had angry tears pricking your eyes. All of this was so sudden, so abrupt, and you just wanted them to go. The officers moved to step forward and Yoongi stepped around your arm protectively, snarling louder.

“Why are you doing this?!” you burst, your voice breaking slightly and teeth gritting painfully as you struggled to contain the fury welling within you. More tears pricked your eyes. “Why are you so intent on ruining everything for everyone else?! My parents, grandma… you never stopped trying to sabotage every aspect of their lives, and even now you’re acting out of sheer spite! Why are you so full of hate?!”

Your aunts looked taken aback, the officers’ gazes flitting between yourself and them, before the two women snapped from their daze. Priscilla stepped forward, cold fury freezing her gaze as her eyes narrowed at you. Her manicured hands curled into fists. “Our mother— that bitch always played favourites,” she hissed, pretty features contorting into an ugly glare. “We were never good enough for her, none of us, except your mother and her stupid, perfect husband. She played favourites then, and even now when she’s six feet in the fucking ground she’s playing favourites again and giving everything to you!”

She stepped forward, ignoring the snarl that tore from Yoongi’s throat at the action. Her face was red in anger. “We should be the ones getting that inheritance, not some snivelling little brat that somehow managed to make it into the good books by birthright alone,” another step closer, another ugly scowl as she spit the words like venom from her mouth, “I don’t care if we have to tear it from your bloody fingers, sweetheart, we’re getting what is owed to us— and if we can’t take anything else, we’re taking him.”

“Nothing is owed to you!” you snapped, glaring at the women who were trying to take the final, most precious person in your life. “Maybe if you weren’t such horrible, nasty people you’d see that the only thing stopping you from getting anything from her was your own hateful actions! You’re all selfish, and manipulative, and you have no one to blame for the way things turned out but yourselves!”

You switched your glare between them, angry tears finally budding and slipping down your cheeks. Yoongi’s head whipped to look at you the second they touched your skin. “She was right to keep everything from you, you destroy everything you touch. You’re willing to blame your own mother even after her death for your own shortcomings. You’re toxic.”

Your aunts were livid, fuming as Yoongi switched his stance and took your hand in his.

“That’s enough!” Janine snarled, her brunette locks flying as she marched forward. She jabbed her fingers at the officers. “You, get that hybrid and restrain him, now! We didn’t bring you to stand around and do nothing!”

The officers jerked into motion and, eyes wide, you cried out in protest. You felt entirely helpless. “Don’t!”

Sensing your distress and catching sight of more tears slipping down your cheeks, Yoongi pulled you closer protectively, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and turning you away from the other people in the room. You heard Janine scoff, “Oh, how touching. You fools, hurry up and get him. I want her away from him and I want that hybrid so we can leave.”

You screwed your eyes shut as Yoongi’s embrace around you tightened, the officers beginning to advance further. They didn’t make it more than three steps before there was a loud bang and a deep shout that echoed against the walls, “STOP!”

Everything froze, and several beats of your heart filled your ears before recognition lit in the back of your mind and you were pulling back to see Taehyung rushing into the room, another man with dark red hair hot on his heels. The blonde was slightly out of breath as he halted, taking in the scene before him. His eyes narrowed, and you noticed a new hesitance in the officers that hadn’t been there before. “Taehyung,” you whispered, confusion and relief filling you all at once, and Yoongi pulled back to turn and see for himself, his grip on your hand never faltering.

“You can’t take him,” Taehyung spoke simply, with an authority and firmness you’d never before heard in his voice, his usual playful lilt long gone. The officers wavered, while your aunts simmered.

Priscilla stepped forward, waving the paper in her grasp with a smug smile to mask her anger. “On the contrary,” she said, unable to hide the spite in her tone. “We have paper-proof that—”

“A signed letter of acknowledgement from previous owners means nothing if the hybrid is not unregistered or unclaimed,” Taehyung said coldly, glaring at the blonde with such intensity that she took a firm step back, eyes widening in shock. You struggled to keep up with his words, however, confusion whirling amongst your thoughts.

At Priscilla’s silence, Janine sputtered, “Stop spouting nonsense!” she snarled, ripping the letter from her sister’s grasp. “This is all we need— with this the court acknowledges we have the right to the hybrid—”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Taehyung snapped, moving towards where you and Yoongi stood near the bench. “The letter means nothing before the court if there is already a claim or ownership in place. Yoongi is not unregistered or unclaimed.”

Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s face, mouth hanging open in shock. What on earth did he mean Yoongi wasn’t unclaimed or unregistered? He’d said it himself, Yoongi had been apart from his previous owners long enough that their ownership had become void, and your grandmother had never claimed him. Your mind was whirling— his text earlier, the fact that he’d just burst in now, what he was saying now— what the hell did it all mean?!

“There is no possible way for the hybrid to be anything but unclaimed,” Priscilla hissed, hands curling in rage. “There wasn’t enough time for that brat to fill out and lodge forms—”

Taehyung shook his head, “There wasn’t,” he agreed, but his gaze remained icy where it fell upon the two women. “But she didn’t need to. Yoongi is already in her name.”

A soft gasp fell from your lips, shock palpable on your aunts’ faces. It took only a moment for their expressions to cross over to realisation. “That bitch,” Janine hissed, venom dripping from each word.

Taehyung ignored their apparent revelation. “With a current ownership in place, you cannot take Yoongi,” he stated, gaze hard.

Your aunts didn’t react well. Janine bristled, Priscilla jerking forward. “Who the hell do you think you are?” she barked, changing her approach to the situation. “The words of some boy who just waltzed in here mean nothing to me, and sure as hell aren’t going to stop me from taking that hybrid. Officers, hurry and get him!”

Contrary to what you expected, the officers did nothing. Not a single one of them moved from their spots, and it infuriated your aunt like nothing you’d ever seen before. You watched as some of them shot nervous glances to the other people in the room. What the hell was going on—?

“Are you all deaf?” her voice rose with her rage. “I said, get that hybrid! I can and will make your lives miserable!”

There was a beat of silence before someone stepped forward, and your eyes widened in surprise. The red-haired male that had followed Taehyung in pinned the two women with a hard glare, hand reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a badge that glinted in the light.

“They’re not going to be doing anything of the sort while their superior is here to witness it,” he said dryly, looking vastly unimpressed. The Pound officers shifted, uncomfortable beneath his hard gaze. His eyes flicked to your aunts. “I’m Jung Hoseok, head of the Department of Hybrid Services. Those officers answer to me.”

You watched as the colour visibly drained from your aunts’ faces. At their stunned silence, the red-haired male, Hoseok, continued, “From what I’ve just witnessed, I have enough to charge you both with serious offences. Attempting to forcefully remove a claimed and registered hybrid from their owner falls under hybrid trafficking, after all, and I think you understand how serious and punishable those offences are.”

For the first time in your life, you witnessed fear enter your relatives’ eyes. Hybrid trafficking was one of the most serious and punishable offences— sentences were never light.

“You cannot legally take this hybrid, and you will not ever be able to. I suggest you leave before the list of offences grows and I am forced to take further action,” Hoseok jerked his head to the door, dark eyes still narrowed in a firm glare as they found the officers and he ordered them, “Escort them out and inform them of what shall happen should they ever step foot back on this property and violate the restraining order I am going to lodge.”

And just like that, you were watching as the officers escorted your aunts out of the room and off the property. Even amongst their apparent shock, they found the will to glare at you as they passed by. They yelled, screaming insults and protests as they were forcibly removed from the house, but they weren’t stupid enough to try and fight back physically. Your eyes followed their angry forms until they were no longer within view, shock coursing through your mind as you struggled to comprehend the situation that had concluded just as rapidly and suddenly as it had begun.

Distantly, the door clicked shut behind them, the deadbolt automatically sliding home and a soft beep echoing through the air. No one spoke for a second, and as you turned to grill Taehyung for answers the red-haired man, Hoseok, suddenly let out a great breath and visibly deflated. He spun then, a brilliant, megawatt smile on his face as he stuck his hand out at you— Yoongi didn’t even have time to growl protectively before you were shaking the offered appendage and listening to him introduce himself.

“Woah, what a way to meet!” he laughed amicably, smile lighting up the room. You were in slight shock at the further turn of events. “Anyway, as I’m sure you just heard, I’m Jung Hoseok. I’m Taehyung’s boss.”

Your eyes widened in realisation as you shook his hand, but confusion still ebbed at your thoughts. “I’m y/n,” you said, before continuing, “Thank you so much, Mr Jung, for helping like you did. Please excuse me for asking, but didn’t you say before you were…?”

Hoseok’s dark eyebrows rose, but the smile never left his face. “Just Hoseok, please!” he requested, before responding to your latter question. “And the head of the Department of Hybrid Services? That I am, miss y/n. Both the Pound— or the Specialised Hybrid Management Unit, I should say— and authorised shelters like the one Taehyung here manages, answer to me. They’re both different branches of the same department, after all.”

Your mouth formed a silent ‘o’ in realisation. “Ah,” was all you could manage. “Thank you, again. I have no idea what I would have done if you two hadn’t come— which reminds me. Taehyung.”

The blonde turned to you, quizzical expression on his face before he realised your current train of thought. You spoke it anyway, rubbing your thumb over Yoongi’s hand where it remained in your grasp as you felt him shift anxiously beside you. “What did you mean before, when you were saying all that stuff.”

“Oh!” Taehyung beamed, reaching into his pocket to procure a bunch of papers folded into a haphazard square that left much to be desired. “That’s what I was going to call you about! Your paperwork was going through the final stages this morning when something came up. It was an error in the registry section, and I couldn’t understand how since Yoongi, legally, should have been unregistered.”

You listened with wide eyes as he continued, hands gesticulating each word greatly. “So I did some further digging— this was after I messaged you by the way— and found out why our system wouldn’t let your claim process. It turns out Yoongi wasn’t actually unclaimed, he was recently registered under someone’s name.”

Your brows furrowed in a display of your confusion, gears whirring in your mind as you remembered what he’d said earlier to your aunts. “But the claim I filled out with you was the only one I did,” you said, meeting his large, brown eyes. “There’s no way I could have—”

“You didn’t,” Taehyung agreed, smiling gently. “But your grandmother did. Her name was Lola, right?”

At the mention of your grandmother’s name tears pricked your eyes; she really had planned for everything. She’d taken care of every single thing for you, even until the very end. A breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding escaped you in a big rush. “Yeah,” you said, trying to ignore the way your eyes were burning. You offered a watery smile, and felt Yoongi move closer, grasping your hand tighter. “That’s her.”

Taehyung’s pleasant eyes were soft as they met yours, a comforting smile on his lips. “She took care of everything— you don’t need to do a single thing. Yoongi is legally under your care.”

It took a second for it to sink in, for both you and Yoongi, but when it did you straightened, eyes shooting wide. “Wait, so we’re— he’s safe? Really?”

Taehyung nodded, and you were unable to contain the short shriek that escaped you before you managed to slap a hand over your mouth. The sheer amount of relief that flooded you, accompanying the realisation that he was free— you were both free— was almost too much. Elation bubbled excitedly behind your ribs, filling your lungs with glee. You turned to Yoongi, ready to throw your arms around him, but he was one step ahead of you.

He took you in his arms, grinning that beautiful gummy smile you’d come to love at the surprised yelp you let out, and spun you about happily. You laughed, and you could hear Taehyung and Hoseok joining you from where they stood at the entrance to the kitchen.

Yoongi was speaking at you so fast, so overcome with happiness that he could finally, for sure, stay with you, that you didn’t have a chance at understanding what he was saying. But that was fine, because you definitely understood what he did next. Your feet brushed the ground and he placed you back on the floor, but you weren’t still for long before he tugged you closer and his hands cupped your cheeks. His lips met yours in a surge of happiness-induced bravery and warmth blossomed in your chest, butterflies fluttering against your ribcage and tickling your insides.

When he pulled back it was with a happy blush, and he tugged you closer once more, burying his face into your neck. Amongst the slight shock and flurry of emotions overtaking your thoughts, you knew one thing.

You’d never been more sure of anything than you were that you truly loved Min Yoongi, the beautiful hybrid your grandmother left in your care.

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