#to be clear this is said with maximum affection for both of them

[maretinelli]

Oiiioii vidoca, vim te pedir algo bem foffinho com o Ollie

To meio pra baixo esses dias pq não consegui entrar na faculdade e eu só queria o Ollie aqui me consolando, mas como não temos, eu me contento lendo o que você escreve perfeitamente

Beijocas❤️

Oii, querida!!! Sinto muito por não ter conseguido, espero que essa história conforte seu coraçãozinho❤️

DAWN WITH SNACKS

Ollie Bearman X Academic!fem!reader

Summary: When they are both exhausted from the day and forget to eat dinner, what makes Ollie take his girlfriend for a late-night stroll with snacks.

Words: 2.8K+

Warnings: Mentions of fast food stores, cute couple, childhood best friends to lovers, mentions of songs and romantic.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And you can request stories on my profile. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

The day had been tiring for both of them. Y/n spent hours at college, dealing with tests, activities and demanding practical training for the Physical Education course. Every muscle in her body seemed to protest with every step she took towards the apartment.

On the other hand, Ollie had an equally exhausting day, spending hours with his fitness trainer, dedicating himself to the maximum to be ready for the return of racing.

When Y/n finally opened the front door, it was already night. The apartment was silent, lit only by the soft light of the television. Ollie was already on the couch, showered, wearing a comfortable sweatshirt. As soon as he saw her, he gave a tired smile.

"Finally home." He commented, extending his hand to her.

Yin dropped her backpack near the door and walked over to him, throwing herself onto the couch and laying on her boyfriend's lap, letting out a long sigh. Ollie chuckled softly, running his hand through her hair, giving it a light caress.

"Tough day?" He asked, his voice calm.

"You have no idea." Y/n murmured, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the affection. "Biomechanics test first thing in the morning, then a group project that almost made me pull my hair out, and to top it off, practical weightlifting training. I swear my arms will never work again."

Ollie let out a low chuckle, his fingers sliding gently across her scalp.

"So at least now you understand how I feel after resistance training." He joked.

"I don't know... I think I'd still rather run than lift weights for hours." Y/n grumbled, snuggling deeper into his lap. "What about you? How was your day?"

"Basically being tortured by my fitness coach," Ollie said, feigning drama. "Sprints, weight training, reaction drills... and all this with him saying, 'You'll thank me for this at the next race.'"

Y/n opened one eye, looking at him with a lazy smile. "And you will?"

"Maybe." Ollie laughed. "But right now I just want to be like this with you."

They stayed there for a while, talking and enjoying each other's company. Ollie's caress of her hair almost made her fall asleep right there. But eventually, Y/n forced herself to get up.

"I'm going to take a shower before I fall asleep here." She said, stretching.

"Good idea." Ollie agreed, though his expression made it clear he didn't want her to leave his side.

Y/n chuckled softly and headed to her room, grabbing a comfortable pair of sweatpants before heading to the shower. The hot water helped relax her tired muscles, and when she returned to the living room, with her hair down and dressed in her sweatsuit, she found Ollie still on the couch, now holding the TV remote.

"Come here." He called, making room beside him and pulling back the blanket.

Y/n smiled and settled next to her boyfriend, laying her head on his chest and hugging his waist. He wrapped one arm around her, while his other hand browsed through the movies on the screen.

"How about The Princess Diaries?" He suggested, already knowing the answer.

"Again?" Y/n looked up at him with an arched eyebrow, but a smile played on her lips.

"It's your favorite." Ollie shrugged. "And I like seeing you happy."

She laughed, squeezing him into a hug. "You're such a cute boyfriend, Bearman."

"I know." He replied, smugly, which made Y/n roll her eyes.

The film began, and at first, they watched it attentively, commenting on the scenes they already knew by heart. But as time passed, the story on the screen took a back seat and the conversation between them took over.

"So, what are we going to do the weekend before the race?" Y/n asked, playing with the hem of his hoodie.

"We could go out to dinner somewhere special," Ollie suggested. "Or maybe we could make it a day just for us, no commitments, no schedules... just relaxing."

"I like that idea." She murmured. "Maybe a picnic? I'll bring the snacks, you bring your date."

"Deal." He smiled. "But only if you promise not to complain when I steal your dessert."

"No way!" Y/n laughed. "If you touch my chocolate, I revoke your right to pet me."

Ollie feigned a shocked look. "That would be cruel."

"Exactly." She said, smiling mischievously.

He chuckled, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head. "Okay, no stealing your chocolate. But only because I like you so much."

"Great choice." Y/n replied, snuggling closer to him.

Hours had passed, and they were still on the couch, snuggled up against each other, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. The movie had already ended minutes ago, but neither of them bothered to turn off the TV.

"Did you know that otters hold hands while they sleep so they don't get lost in the water?" Ollie suddenly said, his voice calm as his fingers gently slid through Y/n's hair.

Y/n lifted her head to look at him with a smile. "Really? That's so cute."

"Yes," he confirmed. "And if an otter loses its mate, it grieves much like humans do."

She frowned, feigning a hurt look. "Why do you tell me such sad things before bed?"

Ollie laughed. "You're the one who started asking random trivia questions!"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled and snuggled back into him. A comfortable silence filled the room until Y/n murmured,

"I am hungry."

Ollie sighed, seeming to realize that he was too. "Now that you mention it... me too."

Y/n stood up slowly, grabbing her cell phone from the coffee table in the living room. "We can order something, like pizza or a burger."

Ollie raised an eyebrow, looking at the clock on the wall. "At this time? I think our favorite restaurants are already closed."

Y/n frowned and looked at her phone screen. "Oh, shit, it's late anyway..." She sighed and threw her phone on the couch. "But I don't have the energy to cook either."

Ollie thought for a second before shrugging. "We can go out and try to find an open drive-thru."

Y/n laughed at the suggestion. "Do you have any idea what you're talking about? Two athletes, one of whom is a health student, going out in the middle of the night to buy fast food? It seems wrong."

Ollie rolled his eyes playfully. "Okay, if you want I can drop you off at home and eat alone."

"No way." She replied, laughing.

He then held out his hand to her. "Then come on, let's go before I change my mind."

Y/n smiled and put on her slippers, heading to the door. "I'll wear sweatpants."

Ollie laughed. "I'll just put a sweatshirt over my pajamas."

Y/n laughed as he disappeared down the hallway, heading to his room. When he came back, he was wearing a dark green hoodie and plaid sweatpants, clearly something he would wear to bed.

She looked at him and let out a low laugh. “You really didn’t put any effort into looking presentable.”

Ollie held up the car keys with a smile. "And do you mind?"

"Not at all." She replied, still laughing.

With that, they left the apartment, ready for their little nighttime adventure in search of food.

Ollie held Y/n's hand as they walked through the building's parking lot, their steps slow and carefree. The night air was cool, and the city around them seemed to be asleep, the silence broken only by the distant sound of a few cars in the distance.

"Okay, we need to decide what we're going to eat before we go driving around aimlessly." Ollie said, shaking her hand lightly.

"Hmm... burger and fries sound like a great idea." Y/n suggested.

"I agree. But what if we find a place that has milkshakes too?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Perfect!" She smiled. "But only if you don't let me mix strawberry milkshake with chicken nuggets again. Bad experience."

Ollie laughed. "I warned you, but you wouldn't listen. Now you've learned your lesson."

She rolled her eyes, laughing, as he unlocked the car with the button on the key fob. They each got in on their own side, and Ollie started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot with no clear destination in mind, hoping to find an open drive-thru.

The city streets were quiet at that time. The streetlights illuminated the dark asphalt, and few people walked along the sidewalks. There was almost no movement, which made the walk even more pleasant. The silence of the early morning brought a sense of calm, contrasting with the hustle and bustle of the day they had.

Y/n was talking about something when suddenly the car radio started playing Wannabe by the Spice Girls.

Her eyes widened and without hesitation, she turned up the volume.

"Oh, not that song!!" Ollie exclaimed, laughing.

"That song YES!" Y/n replied excitedly.

He shook his head, still laughing. "I can't believe this song haunts me. You've embarrassed me enough with it."

"It wasn't embarrassment, it was free entertainment!" Y/n replied, laughing. "Have you already forgotten when I played that song on the speaker in the garage?"

Ollie let out a loud laugh, remembering the scene. "How could I forget? I was trying to concentrate and all of a sudden I hear 'IF YOU WANNA BE MY LOVER' blasting through the speakers!"

Y/n laughed.

"I was trying to get you excited for the race!"

Then, she started singing the song loudly, acting it out exaggeratedly while looking at him and making dramatic gestures.

"I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want" Y/n sings loudly. "Now it's your turn, sing, love!"

Ollie laughed and shook his head. "No way. This moment is all yours."

"Coward." She joked, but continued singing enthusiastically until the song ended. When another song came on the radio, Y/n turned the volume down and turned to him with a mischievous smile.

"I want this song at our wedding. Instead of the bride and groom's waltz, we'll dance Wannabe at the reception."

Ollie laughed out loud, nearly missing the turn. "Do you really want our wedding to be remembered like this?"

"Obviously! It's going to be iconic!"

He looked at her with a smile and shook his head. "Okay, but only if I can wear a plaid suit to go with this madness."

Y/n laughed, throwing her head back. "Deal!"

The love between the two was evident in every look, in every joke and even in the silliest moments. Since childhood, they had loved each other purely and truly, and they would continue to do so until the end of time.

After driving aimlessly for a few minutes, Ollie finally spotted an open McDonald's. He immediately turned the car into the drive-thru and smiled in satisfaction.

"I should get a prize for finding food at this hour," he joked as he stopped in line.

"Congratulations, Bearman, your trophy will be... a snack and chips." Y/n laughed, clapping exaggeratedly.

When it was their turn to order, Y/n stared at the illuminated menu for a few seconds, undecided.

"Hmm... I think I'll have a Big Mac... or a McChicken... no, wait, maybe nuggets..."

Ollie lightly banged his head on the steering wheel, laughing. "For God's sake, Y/n, are you choosing your last meal of your life?"

"This takes some thought, okay?" She countered, still studying the menu.

"Reflection?! It's McDonald's, not a five-star restaurant!"

"Do you want nuggets? Because I can change to nuggets." Y/n asked, completely ignoring his impatient tone.

"I want you to decide before morning!" Ollie joked, rolling his eyes.

She laughed and finally made the request. Ollie ordered his soon after, and within minutes they had bags of food in hand. He drove into the parking lot and parked in a quiet corner, while soft music played from the playlist they had created together.

Y/n opened the bag of fries and, without hesitation, began stealing from Ollie's tray.

"Hey!" The pilot glared at her, feigning indignation. "That's theft of private property!"

She shrugged, popping another potato into her mouth. "You should know that sharing food with me is a lifetime contract."

Ollie grabbed a potato from her tray in response. "So that's how it is? Taking justice into your own hands?"

"Exactly."

Ollie laughed and took some more of her potatoes, teasing her.

"That's not exactly an athlete's diet." Y/n commented, looking at the snack in his hands.

"We burn it all tomorrow in training, so technically this is... strategic refueling."

She laughed and they continued eating, while the conversation flowed naturally.

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe penguins see humans as strange beings who can't swim well?" Y/n said suddenly.

Ollie stared at her for a moment and then laughed. "Is that what goes through your head while eating a burger?"

"Yes. And another thing, how do fish drink water?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Y/n, for God's sake..."

"No, seriously! They're already in the water, but do they need to drink?"

Ollie thought for a moment and shrugged. "I don't know... maybe they do? Or maybe they absorb it through the skin?"

"That makes sense... wait, do you have dehydrated fish?"

He laughed. "If they do, I hope they find a water McDonald's to solve the problem."

They continued talking about random theories, mixed with childhood memories and inside jokes. Time passed without them noticing, and soon the snacks were gone.

Now, with the empty packages, they sat there in the car, enjoying the calm of the night. The comfortable silence between them was filled only by the soft music from the playlist, as they exchanged knowing looks and discreet smiles.

They didn't need big moments to feel happy together. Just each other's company was enough.

When the next song started playing, Ollie recognized the first few chords immediately. Talking To The Moon, by Bruno Mars. A smile appeared on his face, and he raised the volume a little, turning to Y/n.

"You know... that song made me realize that I was in love with you years ago." He said, his voice soft, full of affection. "Every time I heard it, I remembered you..."

Y/n blinked a few times in surprise before smiling. "Why that song?"

Ollie sighed lightly, as if he was reliving that moment.

"Because whenever I was away, traveling to races, you found a way to text me, to ask how I was doing, even with the time difference and your crazy schedule. You always made sure to be there, to support me, even when the whole world seemed too busy to care."

Y/n blushed slightly, lowering her head and playing with the hem of her sweatshirt.

"I'm so lucky to have you in my life." Ollie continued, his eyes fixed on her. "And dating my childhood best friend? That's the best gift I could ever ask for."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes shining with tenderness. Without saying anything, she smiled and leaned in slightly, her lips meeting his in a sweet, lingering kiss. Ollie brought a hand to her face, deepening the kiss with affection, feeling the comfortable warmth of that moment.

When they pulled away, he smiled and placed a kiss on her cheek, while Y/n leaned back against the car seat again, letting out a yawn.

"See? You're too old to be out this late." Ollie laughed.

"Hey, I'm only 20!" She retorted, rolling her eyes but laughing.

On the way back, the atmosphere in the car was calm, a comfortable silence filled with low music and the good tiredness after a fun night.

Y/n put her feet up on the dashboard and sighed. "That was one of the simplest, but also one of the most wonderful moments we've ever had together."

Ollie smiled, agreeing. "Sometimes impromptu nights are the best."

As soon as they entered the apartment, Y/n let out another yawn and practically threw herself on the couch.

"I could sleep easy here right now," she murmured, burying her face in the pillow.

Ollie locked the door and laughed, approaching her. Without warning, he lay on top of her back, making Y/n let out a little cry of protest.

"OLIVER! Get off me!" She laughed, trying to push him away.

"No, it's comfortable here." He teased, but soon rolled to the side, pulling her into a hug.

Y/n snuggled against his chest, feeling the warmth of Ollie's body.

"You know what? I could sleep here easily too," he said, his voice already a little sleepy.

"So that's what we're going to do." Y/n muttered, closing her eyes for a moment.

Ollie got up quickly, turned off the lights in the apartment and went back to the couch, arranging the blankets for the two of them. As soon as they lay down again, he hugged her from behind, fitting his face in the crook of her neck.

"Good night, my walking insomnia." He whispered, smiling.

Y/n chuckled softly. "Good evening, my favorite pilot."

Little by little, the silence of the night enveloped them both, until they finally fell asleep, cuddled together on the couch, as if that moment were the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. After all, they didn't need anything other than each other to feel at home.

[lestatslestits]

I’m obsessed with the way that people on the IWTV set talk about Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid. Every comment about Jacob is just. “A true artist. A master of his craft. The kindest of souls. To look into his eyes is to be hypnotized by his gaze.” And every comment about Sam is just. “Yeah he’s weird but we like him :)”

[sunnycanvas]

Salahuddin x reader that spoils him and loves being near him and kissing him

I stood there in my room praying for the arrival for my beloved. A servant who also happens to be my friend walked inside the room with fruits "Malika, it's good to see you being worried about your husband's well being but you should definitely eat something" "Your husband will come victorious for sure" "Besides sultan will have my head of they came to know that I let you starve" I smiled wryly and my friend grew tensed.

"Forgive me, Malika if I offended you"

I quickly reassured her it had nothing to do with her

Even though I knew he would come victorious. I still couldn't help but worry. "Why do I have a feeling something bad is going to happen" . I suddenly stood up from my place

"Malika?"

"Quickly, get the servants" "Our sultan is coming back" . My friend asked no further questions and left to get the servants ready

"My intuition doesn't fail me" "I have a feeling my husband is coming back right now lost from the battlefield"

And my intuition came out to be accurate

My husband Salahuddin entered his palace with a racing camel.

"Quickly call Malika (Y/N)"

"I am here my lord". I quickly responded to my husband's call. "Where are the others" I thought. "Could it be- no... way did that inexperienced incredibly young leper boy caused this much damage "

"(Y/N)" my husband called my name

Setting aside my confusion I rushed forward towards him. My husband embraced me in front of everyone. I was shocked at such public display of our affection and was about to scold him but my husband didn't listen to and only held me tighter as if afraid that I would disappear. I could feel him trembling.

"Please not you too, don't look at me with same disappointment that others have shown me" hearing such a strong desperate plea, I did not have heart to scold me.

"My lord let us get inside" I requested. My husband although distraught immediately took control of his composure nodded

"Prepare Sultan's favourite food and bring it in my room" my voice boomed as the servants bowed respectfully and left. I could hear murmurs in the hallway

"Our sultan lost against that al-khinzir"

"I thought the king was cursed"

"Wasn't maximum of his experienced commander not there"

Angry at their gossiping I said "Fatima, give 50 lashes to anyone who speaks about today" . My lord voice echoed through hallway and I knew that got them quite. I took sultan inside my room . Salahuddin admiring me said "I really love your firece side" "Atleast you are there with me".

"My lord, I warned" you know how I feel talking about this, my husband seemed to be lost in his own world and said "But it's true, I have lost my reputation in the eyes of both my enemies and subjects" "I fear it was cause uprising" "I think it's best to be removed from the position of sultan" "It's clear Allah didn't show me favour"

"Enough!" I yelled. "You know I hate it when anyone disrespect you like that" my husband grew quite again. I realised that this battle impacted him more than I realised. I gently took his hand and made him follow me to bathroom. My husband followed me without any protest

"Strip"

"(Y/N-"

"No I am not in mood for sex either"

My husband followed my words without any further questions. I lightly traced my fingers on his chest which had battle scars. "Sultan, have I ever told you how handsome you are" . My husband laughed and said "Plenty of times Habibti". I gently guided him to bathtub which was filled with warm water. Once he settled down I started massaging his head. My husband sighed in bliss and he slowly closed his eyes. My husband blissful said "I sometimes feel like I don't deserve you, such a beautiful woman you are". I smiled and said "Plenty of times habibi ". My husband soon dozed off while sleeping. I slowly left so I don't disturb his sleep. I bring oil scented candles and light up the room. I also bring a small table with in the bathroom. Carefully I place food on the table. Once I am done I began stripping. I gently dipped myself in water.

"Habibi" I softly called, my husband still in deep didn't respond. Not wanting to give up. I shook his arm. That seems to have finally woken his up. Salahuddin, my husband was filled with awe at the night of me naked.

"When did you do all this" . I smiled and said "That doesn't matter right now, please eat or else food will get cold". Salahuddin smiled as I crawled towards him and sat on his lap. I took the food from the table and began feeding him. My husband obediently ate food provided to him by me. Once we were done he started licking my fingers. I chuckled at the sight. I gently guided my his head towards my chest and let him listen my heart beat. "You hear that sultan, how my heart beats in joy when I am with you" "It breaks my heart when I see you like this" "Please don't give up on yourself" "Atleast for me". My husband smiled sadly and said "Thank you so much, for coming in my life" "You are right I can't let you down" "I need to fight for you".

I quickly corrected him "Not for me but yourself" "You are the rightful king and I have no doubt that you will soon win Jerusalem" . "You need to quickly send message that you are alive to your allies as well as your enemies, so that nobody comes for your throne". My husband buried his head in my chest and said "Later, let me enjoy my beautiful wife first". I smiled and ruffled his head "You can be such a child sometimes I swear". My husband smiled smiled in response and said "Only for you"

[eldritch-spouse]

(I'm not sure if my last ask went through or if Tumblr really goofed like it said it did so just in case...)

This post...!

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/718874950601179136/is-it-possible-for-us-as-admin-to-be-romantically?

I love this. I want to know more about their dynamic and how things change but I'm not sure what to ask exactly. Is the harem recognized officially or is it still a toeing the line type situation because Krulu doesn't like to share? Are they all dads to the kids now? How do their wishes change? I'm not sure what else, random trivia? Sickly monster harem is right up my alley 🥺

[Okay, I'll try to make this coherent. There's a lot of complexity to this dynamic I can't shove in one ask though.]

Is it official?

It's sort of an unspoken truth. Everyone knows they're part of a harem but it isn't said out loud. Every worker agrees they're entirely devoted to you and will do anything to be in your favor, even if it means sharing you between themselves tightly.

Krulu himself recognizes exactly what's happening here, and it's entirely to his advantage, as this sickly infatuation not only ensures maximum productivity, it inspires great loyalty and susceptibility to manipulation in his workers. You're allowed to bed them, especially if you do so to pleasure him, but he will always hold more value to you than everyone else. There are instances in which you are shared between Krulu and one of the staff, and he makes it very clear he dominates your mind and affection.

Are they all dads?

No.

Krulu and Belo are the only ones that get the title of fathers. But that doesn't mean the other ones can't act as unofficial parental figures. In fact, all of them would delight in it.

They're obsessed with you, Adrul and Adelo are extensions of you, most of them would adore to play a big part in the younglings' lives. All of them would probably shed a tear if either of the kids called them "dad".

Santi obviously suffers a lot more than others. In this context, his wish is to be able to stand kids so he can be a parental figure to Adrul and Adelo with you.

How do wishes change?

Not all of them change. Some like Vinnel's and Grimbly's remain static.

Right now, I can only think of the slight change in motivation regarding Santi. Forgive me, if something else occurs, I'll add it here.

Trivia

There's a likely chance Ludwig would eventually get sucked into this mess. He wants happiness so bad, and seeing the way the staff gets to be so close to you, so happy- Even if he knows this is beyond fucked up, he'll give in to his desperation and jealousy;

Orgy nights are common and encouraged by Krulu, as a way to keep the bond between you all tightened through depravity and affections;

Strictly dominant monsters, such as Nebul and Morell, can and will adopt submissive demeanors without much pressure. They recognize you as superior, and find themselves very honored when you choose to sexually submit to them;

Religious fanaticism, which is already somewhat present in all of their minds, is cranked up to eleven in this scenario. They not only deify you, they're a lot more reverent of Krulu for gifting you to them;

Mother is very proud of you. You are the most successful of her shards, in fact, she sees a lot of herself in you. You are endlessly captivating, and you've surrounded yourself with endless love. You're desired, worshiped and a maternal figure. She treasures you;

Although this dynamic is centered around the core staff members, garden anomalies and the aquarium mers are eventually dragged into your orbit as well. The staff will voyeuristically enjoy watching you get ravaged in the garden by the gargoyle, Hellion and Colmei- Or balk when both you and Krulu take Magus and Glauk for a spin;

Adrul and Adelo will find monogamous relationships to be odd as they grow up. It floors them when they realize that's how the majority of relationships work.

[fruit-salad-ship]

BNHA, I just wanted to clear stuff up about Peach’s quirk and ask; does she apply the density effect to objects through touch? Her quirk always affects her, and with her Ult. she makes a density field, but with some wording I was unclear whether she could target a specific item or not - as in, if she used her quirk on a chair would it be under the effects of her quirk the same way she is? Increasing density when she’s mad and decreasing when she’s happy?

If that’s the case, is she able to remove that effect on the object? If she makes an object low density and then removes the effect of her quirk, would it stay low density or return to normal density?

sorry if those are all obvious questions: I was just having a read through of some old posts and couldn’t quite settle on what her quirk did in that regard (which is no fault of yours, I think that’s just my comprehension failing me as, in the OG post, you said ‘she can float items both living and not, making them less dense than the air around the target’ and I wanted to be sure I was interpreting that correctly).

The basic density shift has to be through touch yes. Her day to day use of it means she will often make herself more or less dense, but she is more than capable of doing it to an item, such as a chair or something. She struggles with liquids, and cannot do this with gasses as such. So a bottle of water, you’ll find the bottle itself she will make VERY heavy or light, but the water won’t change. She CAN try to change liquids, but because of their state it becomes very difficult to maintain what she’s trying to hold.

As for her density field ULT, it is easier to simply subject everything to that shift of cell structure to one mass change. She has begun singling out individuals in her range, or specificity items. This is quite difficult though. Whatever’s in her range, which is around 30ft, has to either survive the crushing force of the density of their bones as if they’re at the bottom of an ocean trench, OR fold up like an accordion. Because of the nature of how her ult works however, she is splitting her focus. She HAS to be within its field, so as well as shifting everything in her range, she also has to be an appropriate density than the damage she’s putting out, so she herself does not become a crushed heap from her own quirk. If she slips, she will demolish herself. It’s a very careful balancing act. For her to shift everything in the field, and also maintain someone safely, is very difficult. Let me paint a picture. She’s defending a client who has been jumped by 3 people trying to kill them. She will avoid using her ult as it’s exhausting, but has no choice. She has to keep her client in range for their safety, and so she has two options. Make the client lighter than everything else and throw them up above the field (which is INCREDIBLY difficult), or make the client dense like peach is to endure the shift within her ults range. It is easier to do this, but the individual will feel discomfort, as their not use to this physical change. They will however survive. Singling out one person to NOT crush, along with herself is not easy, this can be made easier if she has direct contact with them. Without the contact to her client, singling them out becomes very difficult, and she cannot apply heavy density to the area without risking them or herself. This is the easier option, but it is not so simple. Peach has never been a ‘team’ fighter, her quirk is highly destructive, and shifts things beyond their comfort and natural capability. Especially in a battle situation, her stress ten folds and she’s putting out her highest degree of density, sometimes in an uncontrolled way. She has certainly fought foe who have pushed her to damaging herself with her own quirk. Bones break if she loses focus for even a second. It is a very hard quirk to wrangle, no one thought she could do it, and those who did wanted to put her in a maximum security prison for its potential danger, OR weaponise her for it.

As for time frames, she can keep things low or high density so long as she’s touched it previously to activate her quirk (so she can’t maintain it during an ult field), and so long as it stays within her 30ft ish range. She has to touch it again to change it back however and this is instant, or watch it fall out of her range of control and return to normal, often gradually instead of instantly.

No need for sorry I like talking about it haha! Hope this clears it up, I know I can ramble on here sometimes, so my bad if it’s a little hard to get haha!

[jaijaitbinks]

Picturing Saitama being the more sappy one between himself and Genos rn.

Like. Genos is romantic, sappy, sweet. The second Saitama asked for something, he'll get it to him with a kiss within a 2 days maximum. The second Saitama even hints to wanting affection, Genos will come to him, ask him for clarity, and then shower him in it once his consent was given. Before Saitama's even fully awake, more often than not he'll have breakfast ready on the table, and on the times when it's not, it's only because Genos wants Saitama's input on how much he wants or how he wants them.

Overall, very, very loving.

But Saitama. Oh, does Saitama manage to outdo him sometimes.

It takes a while before he's sure his affections won't be pushed away—he felt for the longest time at the start that, if he overdid it, Genos would get annoyed and push him away.

Of course, that never happened and Genos, once they had an in-depth conversation about intimacy, PDA, pet names, etc, would always assure him that he was 100% comfortable with tons of affection. In fact, he'd said, he liked clinginess. It reassures him that he's loved and cared for. So Saitama takes that to heart and decides to test the waters overtime. He'd gradually do more—complimenting him after every successful fight, hugging him and kissing him when he sees a chance to, splitting the chores and cooking duty so he can provide for Genos too.

Genos always encourages it, making it very clear that he appreciates him and what he does. And not only does that feed his ego, but it also feeds his love for Genos. It makes him feel appreciated, and it makes him feel like he's properly showing Genos that he appreciates him.

When he realizes that, his displays of affection is like his power surge. A slow increase before taking a sharp incline. He starts spoiling Genos. Kisses him anywhere at anytime, even in public (of course, after they both communicate and say they're comfortable with it). Hugs him, almost cuddling into him, any time they're in the same room, and if they can't hug he'll link their arms. Breakfasts on his days to cook are always served with a small gift on the side, whether it's a kiss, a flower, or a genuine present (of course, purchased on sale).

Sometimes he manages to outdo Genos in this quiet, playful little competition of "Who Can Show Their Love the Most That Day?" And on those days, Genos always melts. It's lovely to see Saitama trying so hard and doing so much just because he loves Genos that much. Plus, it's unbearably cute to watch Saitama beaming with a tray of food for a "Breakfast-in-Bed Day", indescribably adorable to see Saitama cuddle under his chin on particularly cold days and night with a kiss to his jaw in silent thanks for the warmth, overwhelmingly sweet to hear him murmuring downright cliché, hopelessly romantic variations of "You're my entire universe and then some." He loves it so much.

[umaficwriter]

Champagne Problems

Summary: my Kalijah Christmas take this year!

Notes: I’ve started this in September and hopefully I’m posting this before Christmas Eve. Enjoy!

P.S: this will soon hit ao3 and ffnet as well ;)

Disclaimer: TVD isn’t mine, but I wish Kalijah were.

///

The night was clear and calm. In complete contrast with his chest, that grew nebulous and rebellious by the minute.

The train was quiet as its occupants let themselves rest lulled by their hopes and dreams, incopable of seeing the mask behind the man.

Elijah was crestfallen. His brain numb of its synapses and his heart long hollow.

The solitude and silence only closed in the train metal walls around him.

He did not want to see anyone, nor be alone either, tho. He wasn’t sure which was worse: watching his family celebrating the new year approaching, laughing despite the terrible scene just days prior, or the quietness of strangers unaware of his hurting, of his future crushed before his eyes.

Sighing heavily he fished from his jacket pocket a folded piece of paper.

His fingers trembling as he unfolded it in the low light offered by the moon, as the train followed his destiny.

The kind brown eyes stared back, immobile, incapable of showing anything but affection.

The slight smile he’d loved so much - and still does, for it was too soon to simply forget it - was a sign of mockery now. How could you even consider the possibility of she saying yes? How had he missed the signs?

The long neck and perfect sculptured face only made Elijah want to throw the photograph away and with it the feelings he harbored for her.

He had shown her his secrets, delivered his heart, bruised, beaten black and blue, she’d dropped it. Glass shattered on the white cloth, dripping blood in its wake.

///

The decorations shone to their maximum. Mistletoes strategically placed gave, every now and then, chance to see one of the couples present kissing swiftly. Ornaments made the Mikaelson manor even more beautiful, garlands hand made by Caroline impressed the invitees and stockings adorned the fireplace waiting for their owners to come proclaim their contents.

Said blonde smiled brightly when her oldest brother in law closed the velvety ring box.

“Oh My God!” She neared bounced on her feet, although still aware of her ever growing baby bump.

Elijah smiled down at her “do you think she’s going to appreciate it?” He questioned.

Caroline smiled from ear to ear “she’s going to be thrilled! Katherine trully loves you, Elijah,”

His first idea was to invite Caroline to come purchase the ring with him, no one better to help you choose than your lover’s best friend, right? Albeit, at the last minute he shied away from the idea, choosing to adjust his mother ring instead.

Katherine had a difficult past. Coming from Bulgaria at a young age, she and her twin, as soon as they set foot in America, were stroke by tragedy, when their parents died, leaving them alone in this world, except for their tutors. Giusepe and Lilian Salvatore.

Both parents of Stefan and Damon weren’t much loving, nor with their own, neither with the girls. Hence his future fiancée not feeling belonging to a real family in a long and torturing time. And he was the one who wanted to assure his Katerina that she would be his family. From now on. Always and forever.

So, with his mom’s ring in his pocket, he welcomed family and friends as they gathered around the house for Christmas dinner.

///

“And you think he’s going to propose?” Elena asked her sister as both were tapping the finishing touches in their make up.

Katherine stopped on her tracks, eyes fixiated on the mirror ahead, gazing at her twin through the reflection.

“Why’s that face, Kath?”

Elena also stopped applying her makeup, approaching her sister, downing herself on the bench in front of the vanity mirror, their shoulders bumping.

“Hey,” she tried.

‘I don’t think I’m ready,” she confessed

Elena shook her head “and where’s that idea coming from anyway? You practically live together already,”

“It’s an enormous commitment,” Katherine stated matter of factly

Elena only rolled her eyes “duh, and isn’t that exactly how people end up after a long term relationship? Married?”

“Yes, but-“

Elena rolled her eyes at her copy and got up going back to her previous task.

“Katherine, you’re going to be fine!” She looked back but her sister wasn’t staring.

“Elijah loves you, it’s only natural he’s planing on doing it,”

And she knew as much.

They had talked about it. Kind of.

Elijah was a family man.

She’d known jt from the very beginning.

They had bonded over the years, while his siblings and the Salvatore’s became friends alas she and Elena.

Elijah was the oldest Mikaelson. Always taking care of his brothers and sister, being there for them, holding his family together through thick and thin.

And then she came into his life and he did the same to her.

Showed her true love, held her, walked her through the learning process of loving someone���

Or so she thought.

She did love him. She was only… broken. Incapable to grasp the possibility of building a family, of being part of something that wasn’t fragmented.

Elijah’s touch was Midas’ like, everything turned into gold wherever he went. Their friends appreciated his compassion as well as his humbleness, his loyalty and dignity. He was a true gentleman, a good friend, fervent lover, and Katherine was sure he would be an amazing uncle/ godfather, and when the time came, he would be an incredible dad, treasuring an amazing family.

Only not with her.

She liked things the way they were now. Katherine wasn’t a fan of changes and thought better for them to stay together, although as it is now.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t wait for her to be his wife.

He was nervous. Has been for the past weeks. This night would be the one where his life would change for the better . He would propose to the woman he loved for years now, and if everything went according to plan, they would be married already around this time, next year.

“Hello, handsome,” Katherine greeted as she approached her boyfriend in the parlor.

Elijah took a moment to admire her before taking her hand in his, kissing the back of it. Act he usually did when they were on a more formal occasion, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“You look ravishing, as always, my Katerina,” he complimented admiring her deep red dress and lips. Her nails were painted a nude color, thing he commented on because it wasn’t usual for her. Did she know what were his plans for the evening? Only Klaus and Caroline knew so far, less people knew, less chance of screwing the surprise.

“Oh,” she casually analyzed her nail polish, the other hand on her waist “just went for a change, I guess,”

Nodding, Elijah smiled and softly kissed her lips, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and kissing just below it before parting

“I love you, Katerina,” came his confession, eyes shining. He could go down on one knee right then and there, but some people were yet to arrive and he wanted everyone to witness this special moment.

Catching the different glint in her lover’s eyes, Katherine tilded her head in questioning, but chose to respond with a chase kiss instead, her hands coming to rest on Elijah’s upper chest.

Little did they know it would be their last kiss in a while.

///

Christmas songs chimed in the background, lights twinkling while animated chatter filled the Mikaelson manor with the holiday sprit, it was a happy moment in the lives of all involved and Elijah contemplated his love while she talked with her best friend, Caroline, her twin beside them trying to hear the baby inside the ever growing baby bump his sister-in-law would carry around ‘till February, Hope would be born a spring baby, just like her mother, apparently.

He couldn’t help but think that a couple years from now it would be him and Katherine going through something similar.

Smiling over his wishful thinking, he caught his sister calling everyone to enjoy dinner.

After that, he, Katherine, as well as the Salvatore’s, miss Bennet, and his family were gathered around the grand room. Some standing by the window, Caroline and his brother sharing whispers in the couch beside his sister and Stefan.

Katerina stood lonesome by the giant tree in the corner of the room. The fireplace offered a hue that made her ethereal, an angel set ablaze within his darkest hour.

He idolized her, loving her so profoundly it crushed every turbulence away. With that in mind, he crossed the room calmly but purposefully, stopping beside her.

“Katerina,”

The smile she offered him made him melt all over, she was beautiful.

The man’s hand touched hers, bringing it to his lips, the gesture conducted a smile to appear in the woman’s face.

“What was that for?” She questioned. Elijah has always been affectionate, gentle, tender even, but tonight he seemed to exaggerate. It felt like he wanted to say something but was holding back.

Shrugging dismissively he shook his brown-haired head.

“You should know that from the moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you,” he took a deep breath and Katherine kept smiling at him, her hand interlaced in his.

“I’ve never thought I’d find love, less so in my early years of life but you were there, beautiful, outgoing, fearless,” his eyes shone as he recalled their early days “the complete opposite of myself, but precisely what I needed…”

It was then Katherine realized the chatter in the room had died down, side glancing she noticed her friends and Elena watching them expectantly. Rebekah even had a champagne bottle in hand.

Katherine knew very well where this was going.

“Katerina-“

“I need for you to stop right there,” her eyes locking with his “please…”

Elijah nodded although confused.

Her hand’s dismantled themselves from his grip, the brown pools shining with bright water crystals, whose reflected Elijah’s hurt. Before she proffered anything, he already knew her answer.

It hurt.

It hurt her deeply injuring him in such a way. But she could not, for the life of her, commit to marriage.

She would’ve made such a lovely bride, an alluring wife. What a shame she was fucked in the head.

“Katerina…” his plea crushed her a little more and the waterfall created itself smearing her makeup. Elijah’s orbs begged for her not to do this.

Everything happened so fast, at the same time it seemed to take forever.

She dropped his hand.

No one celebrated no more. An unsettling stillness hung in the air as the clock stroke twelve.

Twirling on her heels, Katherine left him standing, depraved from her warmth, the front door opening and closing, a sound that would hunt him for years from now.

///

The Fourth of July came and went quickly for everybody but Elijah.

Katherine had asked for Elena to gather her things at his condo and when he tried to talk to Elena, convince her to convince her sister to at least, talk to him - she owes me that much, I’ve dedicated years of my life, my heart and soul and she simply turned me down without any explanation whatsoever? I deserve to know why! - and the younger twin agreed, but there’s nothing in heaven or hell to bend her sister’s will.

That was how it ended.

Elijah couldn’t conceive his life nowadays. A year ago he was cheering, drinking, spending the day in bed making love to the woman he thought he would’ve spent the rest of his life with.

Now everything had been shattered, fireworks that faded right before his eyes, transforming themselves in lightning, scaring away his hopes and dreams.

///

November flushed her cheeks as the snow constantly fell at her backyard.

Katherine breathed deeply, the cold air engulfing her insides, her skin prickling with goosebumps as she closed her eyelids.

Fall had always been exciting. It was her favorite season, after all.

She closed the flannel tighter remembering easier times, when that same back porch witnessed languid kisses, sweet promises, adoring glances and such a deep, heartfelt feeling she thought she would say ‘yes’ when the time came, instead she’d lacked words, her courage down the drain, melting just like this white sea would a couple months from now.

Being with him wasn’t encloustrating, being inside her head otherwise…

She felt like she could burn from the coldness of not touching him no more.

Her head spinning with so many conclusions, so many convictions that served her nothing but increasing her anxiety.

Could’ve been this, that made her say nothing? Made her walk away?

So many tears and years denying she had a problem, champagne problems they would say…

Katherine was broken.

Damaged.

But Elijah had seen something inside her eyes. He had burnt himself inside the hellfire that was her mind.

Forcefully wiping her tears away, she took a deep breath. There wasn’t an easy way out of this. In fact, she’d already copped out when she left the manor at Christmas Eve, and then again when she had her sister grab her things at his house, instead of growing herself a nerve and doing it by hererlf.

But it would’ve been too hard… seeing the pain inside his chocolate pools, knowing she had been the one who caused it.

And even if she ran to him right now, they would never be the same.

She’d bet her life that Rebekah said she was fucked in the head, that she was an egoistical bitch, and that her brother was better off.

Katherine had broken them up.

She was to blame.

But someone also was to blame for her being like this. Her disability for commitment wasn’t born with her, one could call it trauma, genetics… somehow she turned out this way.

///

December entered the calendar and slowly turned itself into Christmas lights, peppermint candies, Santa hats and tall, tall Virginia Pines.

Like a problememwtic child, it screamed inside Elijah’s head: a year since..

Shaking his head he gathered his things and left for the living room, where his family talked loudly, all probably spoiling Hope rotten.

Caroline and Klaus were so, so lucky. Not only because their daughter was healthy, gracious, perfect, but also ‘cause they had reached this far.

It made Elijah wishful thinking on how would’ve beens, on how she was feeling now…

A year had passed by and it still hurt. Less so than it did before, but the sting was there, knocking on the walls of his heart, screaming, begging for him to let go, to try once more calling her, to ask Elena again, to ask Caroline how she was in Japan, and f she would be back for New Years' Eve.

Yes, she couldn’t’ve left the message clearer. She desired to be, to exist as far away as geographically possible from him, from his stupidi ring, from his stupid habit of keeping a picture of her in his wallet.

He wished he could deem it champagne problems, and just like the bubbles when you swallowed ‘em, Elijah wished she would disappear from his mind.

Watching his family brought some comfort though, their smiles, the hugs they shared, the cheers as Hope distracted all of them with her toddler mannerisms… it was the bits of magic his life lacked nowadays.

She backing out from his proposition he could, painfully understand. After all, he had met Katerina when she was pretending to be strong, but feeling the complete opposite. And he saw it.

He saw her.

Not the tough girl act, not the barriers she’d built around herself.

Elijah had seen her for the sensitive person she was, the one who was never introduced to real care, the one who was loyal, sexy, funny, sassy, talented…

Back then Katherine lived in a world where only her mind existed, a castle whose walls were so high, one could never enter and she wouldn’t be able to leave.

And he knew she knew he had put it down.

Only for her, years later, put it back up as soon as he proposed.

He would like to understand, fully what was on her mind. But he wasn’t a masochist, he wouldn’t go after her just to receive radio silence. If she didn’t want to marry him, he couldn’t force her to.

Happiness wasn’t something he felt much these days, but he held onto his pride, or at least the bit that was still there.

///

Next December was born in a colder than usual weather, still, Elijah held Gia’s hand tighter as he knocked at the Salvatore house’s front door.

Stefan welcomed them, while the others gathered around the living area. It wasn’t Christmas yet, but the place was decorated to the nines. The tree in the far corner near the fireplace ablaze, many gift boxes that he was quite sure had his niece name on them, after all, the friends liked to spoil the younger Mikaelson.

“Elijah, Gia, hi!” Elena greeted them animatedly, side hugging her ex-in-law and greeting Gia with a proper hug.

Family and friends were acquainted with his girlfriend of six months now, Gia Mohan. a lawyer he had worked with a couple years back and had reencountered last January.

She was funny, outspoken, polite, beautiful, a great professional and Elijah could say he felt happy again, after a long time.

Gia was just making small talk with Elena about her engagement ring - Damon had proposed just a month ago -, when they heard yet another knock at the door.

He figured they were all here already and technically they were, so imagine his surprise when at turning around, he caught Elena letting out a yelp that caught everyone’s attention and hugging her twin sister by the door.

“Oh my God! You came!”

And for Elijah it was like time had stopped.

Notes: is it over now? will come soon

[silvereternitywrites]

What You are Called

Prompt: When an unpopular species of the current federation rescues humanity from their dying world, they never knew how much it would affect them and the galaxy.

Prompt Source: user AnthonyisClueless; subreddit "Humans are Space Orcs"; approx 3rd week of march (cannot find more specific date)

"I'm sorry, the Federation calls your people what?"

My head had ticked sideways involuntarily at the word I hoped I had heard wrong- but with the new hearing aids (free. Free.) I had been issued I was pretty sure I'd heard it right.

My Alien (personal ambassador? Health Concierge? Translator? They were all of these things and more) made a hand motion that indicated nervousness. They often were nervous when I ticced, but the super-sharp angled motions disturbed them most. Said they looked like I was bending my body wrong.

"They call us- [Revolting Aberrations]," they repeated dutifully, and the translator gave the secondary chirp in my hearing aid that promised it was as accurate a translation of another-nother alien language. As opposed to my alien language or my Alien's language.

I inhaled so fast and deep I felt the discs in my spine pop and my ribs strain and my head straightened on my neck.

"I was afraid of that. You do know that's- that's not acceptable, right?"

They blinked and their ears were slicking back, one pair at a time in descending order. Their body language for 'I don't think I'm going to like what I'm about to hear'.

"I'm assuming you know what that translates to, right?"

"Naturally," they said slowly, about half of the scattered eyes on their torso and arms blinking out-of-sync.

"I don't know if I've made this clear to you before, but Fangnar, you're my friend," I stressed the second half of this, and watched their quills slick down. Not sure if that was the fear response or the pleasure response, quills went flat for both.

"And, and I don't know if you've overheard me arguing with my mates about their brain-voices who are jerks, right? Where I threaten to yank the voice out of their skulls and force them to stop being mean to my friend?"

"Ye-es," and now their pupils were dilating, unevenly as so much of their body functioned, shifting uneasily from one set of back legs to the other.

"You are not exempt from this form of love, Fangnar," I finished, feeling the flush of rage from my chest to my hairline.

"The United Federation of Planets calling my friend's entire people revolting abominations is them being mean to my friends. Which is violently unacceptable. So I just have one more question."

All their various limbs pulled in, even as their eyes were dilated wide- familial fear response, definitely. Afraid of how angry I was on their behalf.

"What is your question, human friend?"

I smiled, reminding them without words that the Federation was made up of 77% prey species and 15% declawed predators who had been taken advantage of by the Federation when they'd made it to space. The remaining 8% accounted for approximately three species: the one that had uplifted us, the -- I wasn't using that name, I would NEVER use that name, but they had forms that were asymmetrical, that didn't work in sync, that weren't the same across species because they were from a Death World that made Terra look like it was made of cotton candy and pillows. They only slept with a maximum of 3/4ths of their bodies at any given time, because to be fully asleep was too dangerous, they literally couldn't do it, and they had claws and sharp teeth and multiple pupil types to handle every type of light for changing conditions.

"You actually fit a human concept called [Eldritch]," I told them abruptly, because I couldn't finish my thought without a proper name to call them.

"My translator says that is a very complicated concept," they said doubtfully.

"Yes. Ever-Changing, like yet unlike those who look upon you, unknowable without your consent or aid, no two of your own the same, sometimes inspiring loathing in the foolish or stupid or stubborn, sometimes inspiring blind worship or loyalty in the same people. I'm going to nickname your people that for now, because I'm NOT calling you that other thing," I failed to control the hiss for the other name, and felt sorry when they flinched.

Anyway, there were three Predatory species that hadn't been forcefully handicapped and de-clawed. A species no one was even sure still existed that looked like bipedal tigers with backwards thumbs called Kartcha, the Eldritch...

and us.

"My question is this. Where is the Federation Embassy? I hear they have a policy where they are required to listen to objections from common folk to keep the officials of the councils from getting too big for their britches."

"Oh. Oh no. Human friend, human friend this is a terrible- I- how did you get the GPS directions so fast- Human friend!! PLEASE COME BACK HERE HUMAN FRIEND!"

I waved over my shoulder.

"I'll be back in a few hours at worsssst," I licked the teeth formerly tucked into the roof of my mouth, complete with venom-sacs, another medical miracle that the Eldritch who'd given me the rattle-tail to use as a third leg and to balance with had apologized profusely for because of 'unintended mutational consequences'. I couldn't wait to see if the shark one- for cartilage repair, not for more potential teeth, they wouldn't play with our DNA like that- gave me gills like I'd been hoping.

I hadn’t yet found the words to explain to their scientists that the people signing up for those medical services were actively gambling on getting those unintended mutational consequences, and making bets with their God or Gods that they would get particular ‘side effect’ mutations they desperately wanted. If they ever figured out the process to do things like my teeth and the heat-pits nestled in my temples on purpose, people would be lining up in the thousands. It was just awkward to try and explain all that to a scientist-physician who was apologizing profusely for whatever delight you had just woken up to and offering to let you rip off one of his nonessential limbs as reparations.

How dare the Federation pass judgement on the Eldritch based on nothing more than their looks? Their culture, their science, their willingness to packbond with humanity like excited puppies...it made me flush hotter and angrier, until the diamond pattern of nearly microscopic scales was visible from forehead to collarbones.

"I'm jussssst going to tell them how UNACSSSSSEPTABLE their nickname really isssss, that'ssss all," I promised. I didn't cross my fingers.

I maybe crossed the forks of my tongue as I jumped over their haunches to get through the doorway before they could block it and took off as fast as my legs would go.

I wanted to be able to argue back if they tried to tell me they were in the right, after all. I also reserved the right to bite people who try to touch me, as I always have and always will.

[ferrunough]

✤ - a memory that involves romance/love

If you can. For whatever reason they come across as aro to me

[There’s no folder labelled anything similar to “love” or “romance” so you look through some of the people folders you haven’t watched from yet. A file called “best night in years” catches your eye, but there isn’t a subbed version. Curiosity gets the better of you as you accept your fate.]

[Contains alcohol, drunkenness and suggestive content]

“I said I’d be out until eleven. It’s half ten now.”

“We haven’t even gotten inside yet!”

“Yeah, cahm oooon, man! Pleease?” Their tone is teasing, a far cry from their usual tired sound. This is news to their company too; they copy their accent, pleading “cahm on” to the centre of attention. A man not hugely far off No Name in height — 6’1” maximum — at least compared to the rest of the small group. His hair looks black but, watching how the streetlights affect it, it seems to really be dark grey. Annoyed, he looks to No Name directly and holds their gaze. His eyes are hazel that glows orange when light hits them just right, disrupted (or complemented) by spots of grey. His glower softens into an unintentional smile and he shakes his head. “Fine.”

Three of the group of five wait out the rest of the club’s line with inaudible chatter. The man stays next to the pov, out of sight. His words are clear.

“Why did I ever tell them about you?”

“Aven’t the foggiest. Terrible choice on your part.”

The memory cuts straight to a montage of sorts, snippets of moments throughout the night: the whole group doing shots, watching and cheering people on the dance floor, the group with another round of shots, two people from the group making out, No Name and the man cheersing their drinks, the man hunched over absolutely losing it laughing. It ends on a scene like the last two, No Name and the man sat on two sides of a corner sofa.

“… so, lie, A dun ge why peopl evun tok abou thum lie tha! Ow r y opin t compeyre “awh, erythan n th worl’s fockin wich y ed, ere’s tu kids n ow thuy ar n thumselvs n wiv echotha” t “waheey, groovay sons wi no ovarchin thin bisides s on th album”? A dun derstan, A really dun…”

Throughout their rambling they’re moving hair out of their face (you presume; there’s no hair to be seen but the actions line up). The man across from them is watching. His lips are pursed, at least what you can see as his hand covers most of them, though his eyes show his entertainment clear as day. He nods along until No Name’s rant gradually tapers off. Though said with annoyance, you can hear the smile on their face.

“Whas y smilin bout?”

The man sighs and releases some of the laughter he’d been straining to hold in. “I really shouldn’t’ve let you get another drink.”

“Yuh go wun tu!”

After a pause he goes “mhm” and nods. The pov gives an exasperated noise, about to go off on one again until a shout catches both of their attentions.

“We’re heading out. They can ardly keep themselves— EY! Wait for— Enjoy your night, Ferris. And thank you for getting him in here!” The friend pats No Name on the shoulder as they push past.

“We should head out too. Get you home. Forge’ll get on me if I’m sluggish in the morning for work.”

“Arigh, arigh…”

Ferris stands easily enough but fumbles his first step. No Name swiftly catches him and holds him upright.

“Wha was y sayn bou tha dri?”

“… how are you okay?”

“This ain much. A’m speakin ow A normly speak.”

Once he processes what they’re saying, he exhales in defeat, rests his head below their collarbone, and says, “I’m never going to Galar with you.”

“A wouldn dream t take y there.”

Ferris tilts his head up so his chin rests on No Name’s collarbone. He speaks tenderly.

“Take me home, T

[The file crashes.]

[nspixie-writing-zone]

Floorboards

Prompt: Rebel who has seen the heart of the enemy — and can't stop seeing it

-

The noise hadn’t stopped. Command had said it would - she was just too hyped up on adrenaline and meds. She told them it had never affected her. Brass told her to walk it off. Gave her a medallion and a pat on the back, expecting her to be back on her feet the next day.

They hadn’t seen it.

Only she had. She wished she hadn’t. She’d die for the rebellion, but only if she wouldn’t see it again. She had changed. She never wanted <i> anyone </i> to see it. To fight it. Not like she had.

She rinsed her face and stared into the mirror. When her mechanic had told her something was different, she had brushed it off. Only later did she see what he meant.

Storm had been proud of her eyes. They matched her name, busy and cloudy, with the slightest hint of blue.

Her eyes now carried none of that blue. Colorless.

-

“Gamma squadron, you are clear. Godspeed.”

Storm slammed the throttle to maximum. This was their chance; Her chance. She fought the yoke as she plunged ever closer towards the darkness. Around her the horizon approached, and she adjusted her attack path into the fissure.

Ahead of her, Scorch plunged into the ravine, and the rest weren’t far behind. She let a grin break out across her face. This would be their chance to shine, to guarantee a future for the rebellion. 

-

The sound of her footsteps helped drown out the cry. She walked erratically, uneven steps never quite the same. It helped her stay grounded. She’d likely never be able to fly again, the hum of the engines far too rhythmic. She soon stepped into the vast hanger they operated out of, and kept her pace.

The shop was busy, and Storm was glad for it. The rhythm of irregularity helped soothe her head. As she walked past, some of the younger cadets waved to her. Few commanded genuine respect from the rookies, but what was left of Gamma had earned it.

Silver lining.

-

“Alright Team. Form up, and we’ll be in and out in no time” Scorch’s voice was quiet and even, yet no less commanding.

Only about two kilometers away, she pulled back on the throttle, rolling her fighter into alignment with the seam. Not much clearance, but they’d all practiced for this. Soon her cockpit was plunged into darkness until the lights flicked on automatically. She flew by her map now, floodlights too narrow to aid her vision. Maneuvering by practiced motion, all four ships soon found themselves in the hollowed core of the asteroid. 

Her comms flickered to life again, “Shields up, take out the sentries, and we’ll hit the core.” It struck Storm as odd, how few defenses there really were, all of which were easily dispatched by the old team. With a hint of pride, she wondered if this might even be an easy mission.

-

One of the older guys nodded at Foxtail as Storm approached. The two were the last of Gamma now, and the team’s sacrifice had become something of a legend. Foxtail had been their homegrown hacker, content to work from a distance. Everyone knew that she was just as much a part of the team as the rest, and that became more clear with the rest of the squad gone. Losing most of the squad had taken a toll, and neither of them were sure they’d be able to fight with a new crew. It wouldn’t be the same. 

Fox pulled the headphones off her ears, and a small smile formed on her face.  Their moments in the bustling repair bay were likely the closest either of them would get to normalcy, and command gladly turned a blind eye to them slacking off. The red-headed girl clambered up the ship, and Storm was glad to follow.

She pulled a pair of cigarettes from her jacket pocket, giving one to her squadmate, and lit them both. They sat and watched the rest of the rebels work. There wasn’t the same urgency that had driven them before that fight, and both were glad for it. It almost made that mission seem worth it.

Almost

-

As the other three moved deeper into the complex, Storm fidgeted with her console until it displayed the targeting screen. Her lack of piloting experience meant she’d been relegated to long range duty, a role she was plenty familiar with. 

Command had told them just one good shot would be enough to take it out. All they had to do was hit it before it obliterated them. It was encased by shielding, though which side was shielded was up for debate. Getting the codes for the release had been an ordeal, but it had made the whole mission possible.

With a hiss, Scorch was on comms again. “Foxtail, open the core”

“Yes ma’am”

-

Even when she smoked, her breath was erratic. She and Fox both sat in silence, conversations held in empty noise. Storm had just taken out an entire cruiser herself, and this was their celebration.

When Gamma had a successful mission they’d trash every bar on whatever backwater planet they were stationed on, the whole team leaving a trail of chaos behind them. Now the remains of it were too scared to let their safeguards down. They’d watched that thing kill their friends. 

It haunted them both. 

-

As the contraption heaved, Dropout and Breakneck broke off, each one keeping distance. As much as they hoped for no casualties, they all worked to minimize the number no matter what. With a flick of a switch, Storm’s missiles were armed, and she hovered her finger over the activator. With a small smile, she was reminded of her WSO days, when she wasn’t allowed near a piloting position.

It was a gasp over comms that shook that smile from her face. It was a scream over comms that brought a panic to her core. It was the second scream that would haunt her dreams.

Primal fear.

When the ships reported Drop and Break dead, the screams didn’t stop. The echoes of dead men howling, forever repeating into space.

That was the noise of the heart.

-

Years ago, a young Storm had lamented her lack of imagination; she wasn’t gifted with a mind's eye like her peers. She depended on the map more than any of her fellow trainees, and was helpless without the holographic aid. It was riding shotgun with Scorch that had let her fly, back in the old army. She had resented everyone in the program with her, allowed to be pilots, while she was forced into the back seat. 

It saved her life.

Even Fox, in haunted moments, talked of the heart. She said it never left her mind. She could see every horrible line of the thing. Every vein, and every pore, etched into her head forever. Even across the system, it had wormed its horrible visage into her head.

Storm was cursed, and she was lucky.

She turned to her only companion. As she watched the girl, she tried to remember her emerald green eyes, once a siren’s call of the rebellion. Now they matched Storm’s, colorless and smooth.

They hadn’t always been so dark though.

Or so lifeless.

Her scream came too late.

She was always too late. 

-

She was shivering. She’d never been so cold while flying. Somewhere in reality, she heard Scorch fire at that thing. She heard the third scream. She couldn’t look.

Her eyes pressed shut, she let instinct guide her, every weapon she had discharged at the horrible thing.

Fox told her she killed it.

They told her it was dead.

But the screams didn’t stop.

According to the logs, when the missiles had hit the horrid lump, the screams had stopped.

But she still heard them.

-

When the rescue teams had pried Gamma squadron out of their cockpits, there had been hope, swiftly extinguished when they had seen their eyes. They were still breathing, but their eyes were inky black, empty and lifeless. 

Every morning, Storm stared into the mirror, terrified that her eyes would look the same. That she had been too slow, and she was now awaiting her punishment. But only the color was gone.

As she watched her squadmate’s eyes, she saw what had kept her awake. It hadn’t so much coated her eyes as it had sucked away the last vestiges of life.

When the rest of them had fallen, they screamed in fear. When Fox fell, she cried. She had seen it marching ever closer, steadily pulling her mind apart, until it tore at the seams. She wasn’t ready. Storm wasn’t either.

Later that same day she told command that she was done. This wasn’t a war they could win. Only late in the night, alone in the empty bunks, did she turn the moment over. She tried to remember every detail of that scene, and only now did she finally realize what scared her so much.

She hadn’t seen the thing die.

[alleycatallies]

VICTORY! 3 Critical Wins for Cats in Court

Alley Cat Allies takes a stand in court when cats are threatened by dangerous or even lethal government policies, or when they are victims of animal cruelty. This fall saw major legal victories that will set a critical precedent to protect and improve cats’ lives into the future.

Charges Against Ohio Caregiver Dropped

Alley Cat Allies took swift legal action when a community cat caregiver in Parma, Ohio, was threatened with nearly one year of jail time and over $2,000 in fines for doing Trap-Neuter-Return (TNR) in her community. An attorney working with Alley Cat Allies represented the caregiver in court and, in October, all charges against her were DISMISSED.

The City of Parma tried to claim the caregiver was the owner of the cats and impose charges related to ownership on her. However, community cats are unowned; the people who care for them are just good Samaritans providing a public service. We made that reality clear in court, and in so doing so set an important precedent in law to protect caregivers throughout Ohio.

People should never be penalized for taking positive and proven action for cats and their community. Compassion is not a crime, and Alley Cat Allies stands with cats and caregivers the world over.

Community Cats Now Protected Under Ohio Law

We won! In a unanimous decision, the Ohio Supreme Court ruled that Ohio’s companion animal cruelty law (R.C. 959.131) protects ALL cats and dogs as “companion animals.” Alley Cat Allies filed an amicus brief in this case, which helped inform the Court’s decision.

This is a huge step forward! In the simplest terms, we helped the Ohio Supreme Court decide that the law protects both owned and unowned cats equally, and that animal cruelty against community cats is not lesser than cruelty against an owned cat. This will affect the outcome of cruelty cases across Ohio and ensure justice is truly served.

Our amicus brief was related to the case of Igor, a kitten who may be a community cat and was subjected to a cruel and damaging act. In Igor’s case, there was an attempt to interpret the cruelty law and the definition of “companion animal” as only applying to cats or dogs who are “kept” in a way that would exclude virtually all community cats.

The Ohio Supreme Court rejected that interpretation and decided all cats and dogs, no matter what, are companion animals and protected by the law. Our amicus brief explained why this was the correct decision, and the Ohio Supreme Court agreed!

Justice for Mr. Meow: Killer Sentenced to 14 Years

In September 2024, Colton Fontes was sentenced to 14 years in prison for felony animal cruelty related to killing tabby cat Mr. Meow in 2022 and several other highly disturbing charges including rape and sexual battery.

According to the Calaveras County Sheriff’s Office, the investigation into the shooting and killing of Mr. Meow helped make Fontes’ arrest for the other charges possible. “Sheriff’s Detectives note that the investigation into Fontes’ pending alleged animal cruelty case provided important investigative leads and assistance to Investigators in this joint investigation,” the Calaveras County Sheriff’s Office said in a press release.

Alley Cat Allies has been involved in Mr. Meow’s case since March 2022, when the beloved cat was viciously shot to death in his neighborhood in Copperopolis, California. We have stayed engaged with every court date and with key individuals, including Mr. Meow’s family. Throughout the case, we have called for the maximum possible sentence and prison time for Mr. Meow’s killer and all perpetrators of animal cruelty.

We applaud Calaveras County for taking Mr. Meow’s case seriously and are glad that justice has been served. We will continue to pursue justice in other cases of animal cruelty. Learn how you can join our fight.

Content source: https://www.alleycat.org/victory-critical-wins-for-cats-in-court/

[birminghamlawattorney]

Premises Liability Lawyer on Keeping Your Premises Safer

If you slip, fall, and are hurt on someone else’s property, an experienced premises liability lawyer can help. Belal Hamideh has assisted many like you to receive the maximum compensation for all that they have been through. That said, there are steps that property owners should take to make their premises safer and thus reduce the possibility that there could be an accident on their property.

The last thing anyone wants, when they invite someone onto their property, whether as a friend, customer, or in any other fashion, is an injury. Below are some steps that you could take to make your property safer and reduce the possibility that someone will hire an experienced premises liability attorney after having been injured on your property.

Prepare for the Young, the Elderly, and Pets If your guest list includes children, it’s crucial to assess your home for potential hazards. Items like sharp objects, glass decorations, poisonous plants, and exposed electrical cords or outlets can be particularly enticing to little ones. If there could be kids on your property, take the proper precautions. And, if there aren’t to be kids on your property, let that be known clearly.

Elderly guests, especially those using canes or walkers, may be at a higher risk of slips and falls. To help ensure their safety, consider assigning someone to assist them as needed. Be mindful of potential trip hazards like loose electrical cords or decorations that could cause a fall. Creating a clear, unobstructed path can make a significant difference.

As with all of these tips, these are true whether you have your own store, are having people over to your home for a gathering, or anything else.

Pets can make any event more fun, yes. But, consider the comfort and safety of both your pets and your guests. If your pet tends to get anxious around strangers, commotion, or small children, it’s wise to find a secure and quiet space for them during the gathering.

Even the most well-mannered pets may react unpredictably when stressed, so taking precautions can prevent any unfortunate incidents.

If you were injured on someone else’s property by their dog or other kind of animal, Belal may be able to help you to recover compensation then, too.

Managing Space and Avoiding Hazards When setting up your space, allow extra room around the table to minimize the risk of tripping over chair legs, particularly those of lightweight folding chairs. If guests arrive with wet shoes or boots, they can create slippery spots on the floor. To address this, place non-skid mats in areas prone to moisture. Additionally, ensure that your driveway, walkways, and steps are clear, dry, and well-lit.

Bright lighting in common areas, (whether those include living rooms and family rooms or parking lots and laundry rooms), is crucial for maintaining a safe environment. Adequate lighting not only makes it easier for those invited to navigate the space.

What Can Happen in a Slip and Fall Accident

Slip and fall incidents can lead to a variety of injuries, each potentially life-altering in its own way. If you’ve been hurt in a slip and fall accident, you may be entitled to compensation for your medical expenses, pain, suffering, and other losses. Belal Hamideh and his team are here to support you through the legal process and help you get the compensation you deserve.

Minor Injuries (That Can Worsen)

While sprains, strains, and the like might not sound as severe as a broken bone or a head injury, they can still be incredibly painful and debilitating. Sprains and strains can limit your mobility, make it difficult to work, and require ongoing medical care.

Even if you didn’t break anything, you could still have a strong case for compensation, particularly if your injury has impacted your ability to earn a living or enjoy your life as you did before the accident.

Serious Injuries That Affect Your Way of Life

Slipping and falling can cause fractures in various parts of your body, including your arms, legs, fingers, toes, and even your spine or neck. A broken bone is never just a simple injury; it often requires significant medical attention, including possible surgery, physical therapy, and an extended recovery period.

Some of the worst injuries aren’t those that break bones, but rather, cause internal damage you can’t see. For example: traumatic brain injuries.

A slip and fall can easily result in a traumatic brain injury, especially if you hit your head during the fall. Even what seems like a minor fall can lead to a serious injury, such as a skull fracture or TBI, which may have long-term consequences.

A slip and fall can also result in nerve damage, dislocations, or other injuries that are just as serious. These injuries can cause long-term pain, discomfort, and disability, affecting your quality of life. Since each slip and fall is unique, the resulting injuries can vary widely.

Premises Liability Lawyer Who’s Ready to Assist

If you’ve suffered any kind of injury from a slip and fall on someone else’s property, there’s a good chance that we can assist you in pursuing a claim for damages.

By taking the precautions listed above, you reduce the odds of being liable for someone’s injury on your premises. No matter the injury, the consequences of a slip and fall can be profound. If your accident occurred due to someone else’s negligence, you shouldn’t have to bear the financial burden alone. Belal Hamideh is ready to use his experience to help you navigate your case and work towards the best possible outcome.

To schedule a free case evaluation, send a message through this site or call.

[mjsinteriors]

How to use colour in your to create relaxing atmosphere

The colour of your house plays a vital role in deciding the vibe of your place. You need to be very particular with your color scheme, as each colour has its own significance. If you go wrong with the colour scheme of your house, you are definitely going to create a space that is definitely going to look inappropriate. Thus, choosing the right colour for your space is crucial.

Colors do not just impact the look of your space, but also decide the vibe that your place is going to give. While designing your house, you will obviously want your house to give a positive vibe. So, colours need to be chosen accordingly. Additionally, home is a place that is meant to give us calmness in times when we are feeling low. Who would not want their home to give off a happy, cheerful, and calming vibe? Not just the adults, but the kids who are at a growing age are also impacted by the vibe of your house.

According to psychologists, when an individual looks at colors, they ought to impact them in some or another way. For instance, looking at a particular colour might instantly uplift your mood, and on the other hand, looking at some colours might just make you feel dull. Colors do not just affect a person psychologically, but emotionally and physically as well. At times when you are feeling low, looking at a particular colour will help you boost your mood. Thus, colours also act as mood boosters. With the amount of impact that colours have on humans, we have compiled a list of the most relaxing colors that you can choose for leading a stress-free life.

1.  BLUE

Blue is a colour that is said to have a very calming vibe. It does not just calm your mind, but also helps you feel relaxed. Once your mind is in a state of relaxation, you can then think more properly and take up decisions that you won’t regret later. The colour also gives rise to a flow of positive thoughts in your head. In addition to the psychological properties of this color, it is also a great choice for your home interior. You can opt for both warm and light shades of blue to oomph up your space.

2. YELLOW

Yellow is the color of the sun. as the work of the sun is to lighten the world, the color Yellow serves the same purpose. Yellow can lighten up the room and brighten your mood. The color yellow has the ability to fill your body with sudden energy, uplift your mood and fill you with liveliness.

3. PINK

The color pink is sometimes associated with love and kindness. Exposure to this color can help you calm down your mind and anger. Looking at the color for a decent period of time will help you let go of feelings of anger, aggression, and neglect. The color can be used in your children’s room as it is mostly the go-to choice of the little ones.

4. GREEN

Green is the color of nature. Sitting at a place that is full of greenery helps you calm down your mind. It relaxes you both on a mental as well as physical level. Thus, painting your house or some part of your house in green color will relieve you from anxiety. It also soothes your eyes. Looking at this color can help clear your mind and encourage serenity.

5. WHITE

White color is associated with peace. It is a great color to look at if you are feeling stressed and depressed. People mostly are in favor of coloring their houses with white color. White as a color is a go to choice for the maximum number of people. It is obviously because of the characteristics of the color. The color brings freshness and a sense of clarity. Coloring your house with white color can definitely brighten your mood. 

6. GREY

People perceive grey as a very boring and dull color. But this is actually not the truth. The color grey has a soothing and calming effect. Pairing the color with blue and white can literally soothe your eyes and uplift your anxious mood. It also aids in creating a relaxing atmosphere that helps you lead a stress-free life. 

So, these are some of the colors that we think can bring positivity to your space. If you are one of those who like playing with colors, you can always try and mix these with the ones you like. If you are a bit skeptical about how it is going to look, get in touch with us. We are one of the best interior designing companies in Singapore, providing affordable interior designing services. 

[twopoppies]

I wanna make it clear from the get go that I’m in no way defending Harry’s ticket pricing or Ticketmaster’s ridiculous monopoly over concert tickets.

That said, I think people have a habit of oversimplifying marketing and marketing strategies, and assuming that they’re directly reflective of an artist’s personal greed, so I’d like to offer some alternate food for thought.

I think Harry’s ticket pricing is the result of three things: 1) marketing and brand strategy, 2) audience, and 3) negotiating leverage.

Marketing strategies have multiple layers to them, and are highly dependent on variations per artist per genre. What do I mean? Two people can both be lucrative pop artists but appeal to a widely different audience and will therefore be branded and marketed accordingly. Ed Sheeran, for example, is one of the top pop artists in the business. He’s worked with many of the biggest and brightest pop acts, but his personal brand has always been down-to-earth singer-songwriter troubadour type. That’s the audience he plays to, and that kind of audience has a certain price point and is expecting it to be maintained. It’s very different to the kind of fan who would buy a ticket to a Beyoncé concert, or a Taylor Swift concert, and even though you can argue that there is overlap, you can understand that visually and experience-wise, the branding differs immensely. That directly affects ticket price points.

Next, audience. Like it or not, Harry’s music appeals to a wide audience that’s largely made up of very casual fans, so the profit strategy is quantity over quality. If you pay attention to the kind of audience Harry plays to, at least 75% of them are only going to one show each (casual fans, parents with young children, partners buying tickets for occasions, etc). That means, for them to maximize overall profits, an individual ticket that’s priced much, much higher will give them more returns than multiple affordable tickets (they don’t put the weight on repeat concert-goers because they’re a relatively small part of Harry’s concert audience). The profit strategy for Harry has always been to cater to the maximum number of people possible, while artists like Louis, whose ace up their sleeve is the solid, loyal fan base they’ve cultivated, will put the weight on repeat-concert goers and will therefore be more successful pricing each ticket lower, so people can go to multiple shows.

Yes, it sucks for Harry’s actual, loyal fans, but we have to accept that the current level Harry is at is finite, and given that the music industry will always be profit oriented, they are clearly trying to take advantage of that.

Lastly, negotiating leverage. I think we have to understand that the creative freedom we’ve seen Harry expressing (which has grown markedly from HS1 to HS3) is a direct result of the money he’s able to bring in. Money speaks, and the kind of money Harry’s bringing in tells his label that it would be idiotic to curtail him from writing the kinds of songs he wants, dressing the way he wants, doing covers of magazines in dresses, getting involved with queer artists, designers, actors and projects, etc etc etc. That leverage was hard won, especially for a closeted artist. The fact is, his profitability is likely the only thing that’s keeping them from shoving him back into the frat-boy womanizer narrative he had in 1D because what he’s proven is that his authentic music, taste, and style evolution is actually as lucrative (if not more) than their original branding of him.

So, yes, as much as the pricing of Harry’s tickets sucks and is unfair, I think people should think twice before branding it simple pathological greed. There are many things at play here, and we still have to acknowledge the capitalist nature of the music industry in general. “Survival” as an authentic artist in the music industry comes at a cost, and more than anything, that’s going to come down to an undeniable level profitability.

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: six ( 15.5k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results. 

While scent mixing (heretofore referred to as ‘scenting’) is temporary and lasts a maximum of twelve hours if left undisturbed, scent marking (‘marking’ in common parlance) is semi-permanent. A ‘mark’ is created when the pheromones present in a hybrid’s bodily fluids are applied directly to their markee’s skin. When said chemical compounds seep below the epidermis and bond to the sweat glands found within the dermal layer of the skin, the target has been officially ‘marked’. Between domesticated hybrids and their human caretakers, this is most commonly done by applying hybrid saliva to the skin of the neck, where a human’s scent tends to be strongest. While the behavior involved in marking resembles some aspects of human foreplay, it is a non-sexual expression of mutual trust and affection. It is important to note that most hybrids of age are able to mitigate the oral secretion of pheromones and cannot mark accidentally-

“How do I look?” 

The sound of Jimin’s voice makes you jump. You fumble with your phone, trying to exit out of the website, shove it in your pocket and look at the leopard hybrid’s outfit at the same time.

“You look great!” You tell him once the device is safely tucked away.

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’ve said that about everything I’ve shown you.”

You had, but only because it was true. No matter what the trio of hybrids tried on, they all looked great. You weren’t sure what it was, but seeing them in something other than neutral sweat suits made them look even better than they already had. You were discovering they all had unique senses of fashion too. Taehyung preferred earth tones, soft fabrics and slouchy cardigans, Yoongi tended toward plaid overshirts and dark denim and Jimin had just come out of the dressing room in his sixth button down and second pair of chelsea boots. 

When the four of you had arrived at the mall that afternoon, you’d told them to go wild and call you when they were ready to check out. There was an entire section of the shopping center that catered specifically to hybrids and you were certain they’d be able to find everything they needed and more. You’d been all set to sequester yourself in a booth in the food court and indulge your hybrid research habit, but Taehyung had fixed you with a forlorn look the moment you tried to part with them and Jimin had insisted that you personally review every piece of clothing he put on. You wouldn’t deny that you were having fun, but surreptitiously trying to google what every little thing they did meant without getting caught was getting harder and harder. 

Jimin breezes past you to the semi-circle of mirrors on the far end of the fitting rooms, brushing his tail against your shins as he passes. That was another thing that had changed. Since the talk you’d had with the boys last night, it seemed like they were always finding some excuse to touch you or brush up against you . You didn’t know if it was a manifestation of their cat genes or them just wanting physical reassurance that you were there, but it seemed like every time you turned around there was a tail curling around your calf or a nose tip against your ear or a shoulder brushing your own. You were practically wreathed in them. Even Yoongi hadn’t seemed to mind when your fingertips had brushed against each other at breakfast when you’d passed him the juice. You didn’t know if you should count that as progress, but you want to. 

You’re not entirely used to physical contact and nearly every time Taehyung rubs his cheek on the top of your head or Jimin reaches out to link your fingers together, you jump. It feels strange, to have people be so blatantly physically affectionate with you. It’s not like you dislike it, exactly, it’ll just take some getting used to. Whatever adjustments you need to make, you know you’ll need to make them quickly. You don’t think the hybrids will give up on friendly hugs just because you never initiate them first.  

“Y/N-ah,”Jimin calls, catching your attention. He’s twisting this way and that on the platform, trying to catch his reflection in every possible angle. He hums in disappointment as he turns back to the front, tail waving behind him. “This collar,” he says, tugging on the offending band of bright green plastic around his neck, “-is ruining my outfit. We’ll need to get real ones today.” 

You feel like a stone has settled in your stomach. Your shoulders sag, but if the leopard hybrid notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, you’re right.” In truth, you’d hoped to put it off for a little while longer. Collaring and leashing a hybrid had always seemed odd to you. After all, weren’t they people too? The law was the law, you knew, but something about publicly and visibly marking someone as property...well, the morality of it was gray at best. The temporary collars had provided you with a stay from the inevitable, but there was no avoiding it any longer, you supposed. They’d have to get collars. 

“I saw a store for them a couple shops down,” Taehyung supplies as he steps out of his dressing room in a white linen shirt and cream drawstring pants. “We could go there?” 

“That works for me...Taehyung, one of your buttons is in the wrong hole.” 

The tiger hybrid squints down at his shirt, feels blindly for the hole he missed, but can’t seem to find it. 

“No,” you tell him. “Not that one, the other- do you just want me to fix it?”

He pauses and looks up at you for a solid three seconds before giving a single, slow nod. 

You come to stand in front of him and start undoing the buttons from the top. There’s only four of them but each one you pop open reveals more and more of his honey brown skin and prominent collar bones. Your fingers brush his skin accidentally and he chuffs happily, one hand resting on your lower back as you start buttoning him up again. Heat starts crawling up your neck unbidden. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, you can feel the warmth of his palm, how long his fingers are. He presses you closer until your arms are nearly flat against your chest as you try to finish buttoning him up. It’s hard to move squished between the insistent pressure of his hand and the- surprisingly- hard line of his body, but you make do. “There!” You pat him gently on the chest as you finish the last button. “All done.”

He dips forward and rubs his cheek against your forehead, rumbling so deep in his chest that the vibrations pass into you. “Thank you.” He releases you and pulls away, but as he does, his lips brush against your hairline. You try not to read too deep into it. 

The tiger hybrid sidles over to his friend in the mirror, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and dipping his head into his neck. Jimin reaches back and scratches behind one of his ears and your heart swells in your chest. It was nice to see them be so openly affectionate with each other. They’re so close in a way you can’t even begin to understand. It’s beautiful. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you thumb the screen to life. An incoming call from Mr. Seo. “You guys keep trying stuff on,” you tell the pair, already standing to make your way out of the dressing room. “I’ve gotta take this.”  They both call at you to hurry back and you give them a shout of assent as you rush away. 

The second you’re outside the store, you answer. “Hello?”

“Ms. L/N,” Mr. Seo’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “I trust you’ve settled in well.” It isn’t a question and the tone of his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t wish to spend what precious time he has exchanging pleasantries with you. 

“Yeah, everything’s okay.” Everything had most certainly not been okay when you’d emergency dialed him two days ago about the tiger on your couch. The text he’d sent you back six hours later had told you to figure it out. You had and you knew you weren’t his responsibility, but him tossing you in the deep end was still a sore spot for you. 

“There’s been a change of plans.” 

You grimace. Straight to it, then. “What’s going on?” 

“Black Mountain Canines- the company your uncle purchased two of the hybrids from- changed their pick-up date. They want you to come get them in person today.”

“Pick-up?” You frown. “No, they were supposed to drop them off.”

“They were,” Mr. Seo confirms, “But it’s apparently no longer profitable for them to drive all the way into Seoul to hand-deliver two of their charges. They also claim they’re incurring additional expenses by feeding and housing two hybrids who’ve already been purchased, but we’ll see about that when we arrive.”

Your anxiety spikes and your fingers wrap tighter around your phone. You’d promised the boys a whole day out. All you’d done so far was get them phones of their own and furniture for their room. There was still so much to do, so much to see. “What about Yoongi and Jimin and Taehyung?” You blurt out.

Mr. Seo sighs and his breath crackles over the receiver. “Those are the cats, I assume? I suggest you let them know sooner rather than later that they’ll have to share their space.” There’s a flurry of movement on his end of the line, the sound of someone calling his name and papers shuffling. “I have to go; they need me to look over some case files.” He tells you. “I’ll be at Haneul Tower to pick you up in three hours. Be downstairs waiting.”And the line clicks off. 

You sigh and hang up. What were you going to tell the boys? Day one of your new friendship and you were already breaking promises. 

“Trouble?” Yoongi’s voice right behind you makes you flinch and whirl on him. His ears press back against his head and he takes a step back at your sudden movements. 

“Sorry!” You tell him, forcing your spine to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there; I thought you were still shopping. ”

“I can tell,” he snarks, but there’s no heat behind it. His eyes trace the line of your shoulders, still tense and flick to the phone in your hand. “I dropped my stuff at the register. What’s going on?”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, nerves making your stomach ache. “C’mon,” you tell him, walking back into the store. “Let’s pay and grab some lunch. I’ll tell you when we sit down.” He follows after you a few paces behind, trying not to let worry prick in him at the anxious shift in your scent. Something was about to change, he was sure, and not entirely for the better. 

Twenty minutes later, the four of you are sitting in the food court, a mess of shopping bags at your feet and a bowl of tteokbokki between you. Yoongi and Jimin had picked out all the fish cakes first and were bickering good-naturedly over who the last one should go to, but Taehyung seemed content to just gnaw at his rice cakes. You’d hardly touched anything, your eyes flicking back to the time on your phone. 1:20 P.M. Two hours and forty minutes ‘til Mr. Seo would be at your apartment to pick you up and bring you to get two more of the hybrids your uncle had bought. You push a rice cake around on your paper plate with the end of your chopstick. Well, no point delaying the inevitable. 

“Hey, guys?” You call softly. Three pairs of ears swivel toward you immediately. The words die in your throat and your tongue feels like lead as they look at you, all their eyes focused and expectant. You clear your throat and force yourself to continue. “So...you know how I…” You search for the right word, but there’s really no other way to say it. “...inherited you guys from my uncle?” 

Taehyung’s eyes flick toward Jimin and the leopard hybrid brushes his tail against the tiger’s. Silent communication you couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Yeah,” Yoongi says, tossing his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair. “I told them.”

That was right. What you’d blurted out at Yoongi yesterday on the street you had yet to disclose to his juniors. “Thanks, Yoongi,” You tell him, meaning every word of it. He’d spared you from yet another uncomfortable conversation. 

“...For what it’s worth, we’re glad it’s you,” Taehyung tells you, his tail twining around your ankle under the table. He looks at his hyungs for confirmation and when neither of them deny it, he settles his amber gaze back on you. “We like being here with you, even if you didn’t pick us. It’s...It’s nice.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips at his words. He beams at you, his boxy smile soft despite the sharp incisors poking his bottom lip. “I like having you guys around, too,” you admit, taking the time to meet each of their eyes. Jimin purrs as you look at him, the corners of his mouth curling. When your gaze meets Yoongi’s, his ears twitch but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink either, just holds your stare with an intensity that makes heat crawl up your neck. You suddenly remember the warm stretch of his body over your’s, the sensation of his lips against your neck. You snatch your eyes away and cough to cover your lapse in speech.  “It would’ve been scary, I think, if I had to deal with all this alone.” 

You couldn’t even imagine it.That clinically clean apartment with its blank white walls and its imposing emptiness would have driven you down until you couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d always had a little pit of loneliness inside you. You didn’t know how long it’d been there. Maybe it always had been, a seed of something sad and dark at the core of your soul. You’d done well keeping it contained. You felt it in your goshiwon, but your room was small. It couldn’t grow beyond your keeping. In Oliver’s penthouse, it would’ve had endless room to sprawl and with no one to clip it back, you would’ve choked to death on vines of doubt.

“There are others,” you tell them, before you can down spiral into the mire of your own thoughts. “He bought other hybrids before he died. They weren’t supposed to be coming until next week but their company wants me to come get them today.” 

The mood at the table shifts almost immediately. Taehyung’s ears and tail sag, Jimin’s smile goes sharp at the edges and Yoongi’s lip curls. “How many others?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You notice he does that when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. It’s a defense mechanism, no matter how at ease it makes him seem. 

“Four,” you answer and the bobcat hybrid’s ears tilt back in irritation. “Two are coming home today and the other two toward the end of next week.” Jimin doesn’t say anything, but you see the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. He’s annoyed. Taehyung drops a hand onto the smaller hybrid’s back and rubs circles in it, trying to soothe him. 

“Maybe it’ll be okay?” The tiger hybrid offers. He’s trying his best to be diplomatic, but you hear the strain in the deep timbre of his voice. “Having other cats around again might be nice. We used to live with a lot back at the center…”

You wince. “...they’re canines.” Almost immediately, all of their ears go flat against their skulls and they hiss in unison. Yoongi stifles himself the quickest, setting a hand on Jimin’s knee and squeezing to get the leopard hybrid to get a hold of himself. 

“Hybrids of different species don’t play well together,” he explains. “Especially not when our animals are solitary in the wild. The only reason Jimin, Tae and I are able to stand sharing the same territory is because we’ve known each other since we were kids and we’ve had to do it before.”

Before? A question forms in the back of your mind, but now isn’t the time to ask it.

“We don’t like sharing what’s ours,” Jimin continues for his hyung, interlocking his fingers with yours on the plastic table top. “It’s instinctual.”

“I know, I know.” You squeeze his hand lightly, trying to reassure him. “But the apartment is big; can’t you avoid each other starting out?”

All three of them give you a strange look and Jimin’s lips curl in a way that isn’t quite a smile. “...right,” he purrs, a little delayed. “The apartment.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiety sinking its claws into you. “I’m really sorry to spring this on you guys, I know it’s not great, but…” Your shoulders sag. “I don’t want to have promised someone a home and rip the rug out from under them, you know?” You knew what that felt like. You wouldn’t wish that feeling on your worst enemy. “I’m just...I’m worried that they’re not being treated well.”

“They were up for sale,” Yoongi drawls. “They definitely aren’t.” 

The taxi ride back to Haneul Tower is uncomfortably quiet. Jimin still holds your hand and Taehyung still leans on your shoulder, but nobody says a word. You help them carry their bags upstairs and drop them off in the master bedroom. You’d told them they could have separate rooms if they wanted, but they’d insisted on sharing, so you thought it was only fair that they get the largest room in the penthouse. Clothes went onto hangars and into closets and before you knew it, there were only ten minutes until Mr. Seo’s arrival. 

“You don’t have to go,” Taehyung huffs. He’s got you wrapped in a bear- well, you suppose a tiger hug and his cheek is mashed against the top of your head. You don’t even think he’s actively scenting you at this point, just keeping you from leaving. “Send your assistant instead and stay here with us.”

You let out a puff of laughter and pat the hybrid on the back in a way you hope is soothing. “Mr. Seo isn’t my assistant, buddy, he’s my uncle’s attorney.” You give a little tug away from him and he lets you go, albeit with a sad little mrow that makes him sound just like a disappointed cat. “I couldn’t ask him to do that. The only reason he’s coming is because they broke the contract. And I can’t drive.” 

The look Taehyung gives you is so downtrodden that you toy with the idea of calling the whole day off and staying with them- but no. You can’t bail out now, especially not with what you’d put Mr. Seo through when the first group of hybrids were delivered. “I’ll be back before you know it,” You tell him with a steadfast smile. 

“You’d better,” Jimin says, nudging the taller hybrid out of the way. Taehyung gives a half-hearted growl, but settles as Yoongi squeezes his shoulder. “The longer you’re away, the longer you’ll have to sit in the stench of those mutts.”

You frown. “Jimin-”

“Only joking,” He soothes, bringing both of your hands up to his cheeks. You don’t believe him, but you don’t press it. The leopard hybrid nuzzles into your palms, purring happily at the feeling of your skin against his. Your palms nearly burn from how warm he is. You feel a warm puff of air against your fingers and tense as Jimin presses all ten of them against his lips. 

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice is hard, but his junior’s lips curl up in a satisfied smile, one of his incisors pricking at the pad of your index finger. 

“Hurry back,” he murmurs. You try not to shiver at the feeling of his plush lips moving against your oversensitive fingertips. 

“I’ll do my best!” You say,  a pained smile tugging your lips apart. He hums in response and drops your hands, his fingers trailing across yours as he lets you go. 

“Hyung,” he calls over his shoulder. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Y/N-ah?”

“Don’t let them scent you.” Is all Yoongi says as he breezes toward the stairs. “You know better now.” 

It’s as much as you were expecting. “I’ll see you guys later,” You tell them as you head out the door. “Finish setting your phones up and text me if you need anything!”

True to his word, Mr. Seo is parked out front at 4 o’clock on the dot. You haven’t seen him in a little over a week and you’d almost forgotten how imposing he was. He cuts a sharp figure against the backdrop of the bustling street, dressed in all black and leaning against a brand new Buick Enclave. The poor valet stationed at the front door looks like he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask to park his car for the past twenty minutes and sags in relief as you start heading over.

The lawyer dips his head in acknowledgement at you and checks his watch. “Miracle of miracles,” he says, popping open the passenger side door for you. “You’re on time.”

“I was late one time,” you huff, sliding past him and into your seat.

“And that was enough,” he snips back, closing your door before you can come up with a retort. You grumble to yourself, but don’t press him. You know he’s right. He’d gone out of his way to help you and you’d put him out. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as he settles into his seat and reaches for his seatbelt. “It won’t happen again; I know you’ve got other things to do.”

He stills and looks at you over the gold frames of his glasses. For a long moment he holds your gaze, unblinking. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Had you done something wrong? 

Finally Mr. Seo blinks and finishes buckling himself in. “I apologize for staring, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you correctly.” He push starts his car and pulls away from the curb. “I never thought I’d see the day a L/N would apologize to me.” He edges the car into the steady stream of Seoul traffic and you’re off, zooming toward the freeway.

Silence fills the car again, but as Mr. Seo takes on-ramp, you work up the courage to ask your question. “Did Oliver never apologize to you?”

Mr. Seo snorts and it’s such an undignified sound that you almost can’t believe it comes from him. “You could tell your uncle the sky was blue and he’d argue that it was red until he was. And your grandfather-” He seems to catch himself, reigning back whatever meager bits of his personality had managed to slip through the cracks in his normally flawless veneer. You’re all ears.

Up until a week and a half ago, you hadn’t known you had any family, much less an uncle who owned buildings and bugattis. Now you were finding out that you had a grandfather too. “What about my grandfather?” The word feels strange in your mouth. It’d been years since you’d followed the word ‘my’ up with any type of familial relation. 

Mr. Seo cuts his eyes at you, and flicks them back to the front. “Nothing,” he replies, clearly done talking about him. “I spoke out of turn.” He reaches forward and turns on the radio, the sound of national news filling the silence.

You pout and slouch in your seat, disappointment setting in as the promise of new information slipped out of your grasp.

The rest of the drive is easy. Mr. Seo takes the highway out of Seoul and up into the foothills but you’re asleep before he even finds the exit. You’d slept more in the past two days than you had in the previous three weeks, but it seemed like years of bad habits were catching up to you.

Last night, you’d passed out halfway through the second movie snuggled up between Jimin and Taehyung. They’d been so warm and soft and the quiet thrumming of their heartbeats had lulled you to sleep before you knew what was happening.You’d woken up with them still curled around you and -maybe most surprising of all- Yoongi plating breakfast in the kitchen.

Still, it seemed even twelve hours of the best sleep you’d gotten in years and a peaceful morning devoid of stress -for the most part- hadn’t been enough.

You wake up just as the asphalt transitions into gravel, the sound of it crunching under the tires and the car’s shaking waking you up. You’re bleary-eyed and confused, but a sign up ahead snaps you to wakefulness. Standing like a guardian over a chain link fence topped with barbed wire is a metal sign, imposing as it is tall: Black Mountain K-9s, written in stark font.

“We’re here,” Mr. Seo says, as if it’s not obvious. He kills the engine and without its purring to distract you, you feel nerves starting to boil in your belly. What kind of place was this? You half expect sinister organ music to kick on and lightning to start flashing from black clouds. Neither of those things happen, though. The sky remains startlingly clear and the only things you can pick up are the sounds of whistles being blown, dozens of people doing call and response, and one voice, louder than all the others screaming for people to ‘Run faster! Get those knees up!’

You pop the door and step out of the car before Mr. Seo can open it for you and head around to the nose of the car, taking in the compound. 

“This facility produces some of the highest caliber bodyguards in the country,” He says, coming to stand beside you. The attorney rebuttons his suit jacket and flicks his sleeves up before settling his arms over his chest. “Politicians, celebrities, even a few former presidents all have hybrids from this training center.”

“It looks more like a prison,” You remark, nodding toward the barbed wire. “First big cat hybrids, now this...Why didn’t Oliver just get regular pets if he was lonely? Was he worried someone was after him?” 

“Anything I can tell you would be pure speculation,” He replies, walking away from you and heading for the callbox. “Your uncle very rarely confided in me.”

“But you were his attorney.” 

For just a second, the tight grip Mr. Seo has on his composure slips. His lips press together and his shoulders sag- but just as quickly as it’d lapsed, his mask is in place again. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “I was.” And he presses the button on the call box before you can pester him with any more questions about the dead men he’d known.

The call box crackles to life, speakers squealing with feedback. You flinch and slap your hands over your ears to protect them from the splitting sound. Mr. Seo doesn’t react at all and you’re stunned, wondering how he can stand it.

“Seo Seunghan and Y/N L/N for Lim Hangyeol.” 

The person on the other end doesn’t respond. The speaker cuts and a second later, the metal gate before you starts rolling to the side, pushed by invisible hands. It’s like a curtain going up at the theater. 

Before you lies a wide, dusty yard, devoid of any plant life. The thick-trunked trees and lush grasses of the surrounding mountainside had been stripped down to the roots here. All that remains are a few weeds poking out around the base of the long metal buildings that ring the fence, and even those seem like an intrusion. People are making use of the space in whatever way they can. A group of people with matching cropped black ears and docked tails run past you in four straight lines, all perfectly in step with each other. Over to your right, there’s a pack of teenagers working in pairs to scale a ten-foot tall sheer wooden wall and in the center of the field, twenty kids are running through taekwondo forms, supervised by a widely smiling instructor.

You’re in awe of it all. Every single person is like a cog in a well-oiled machine, all in the same black tactical pants and compression shirt. You’d never seen so many hybrids in one place before and certainly not all of the same breed.

Mr. Seo places a hand in the center of your back, steering you away from staring and toward a squat cement building.You let him lead you.

“When we get inside,” the lawyer begins, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “Let me speak first. If we can get him to admit to breaching the contract right away, it’ll be much easier to get him to agree to a settlement.”

You frown at that. “Why would we settle?” You ask him. “It’s not like I need the money.”

“It’s a matter of principle, Ms. L/N.” He sighs, pulling open the heavy metal door and ushering you into the building. “He did something wrong, and it’s most easy for him to bear the brunt of atonement financially. Without requiring damages be paid for breaches, contract law would collapse.” 

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

Mr. Seo’s mouth twists up like he’s just tasted something unpleasant. “As you attorney, it is my duty to advise you against accepting restitution in the form of an apology. You’ll get a reputation for being a pushover.” 

You wanted to be anything but. “Alright, alright,” you concede, “Do whatever you think is best.”

The building you’ve ducked into seems to be an office. Along one wall are a set of metal folding chairs doing their best impression of a waiting room. Along the other is a metal door covered in peeling paint and one suspicious dent bearing a plaque that reads ‘DIRECTOR LIM’. Set between you and it is a desk covered in a mess of paperwork. An old desktop stands among it like an island in the ocean and middle aged hybrid woman in coke bottle glasses is hunched before it, tapping away at the keyboard at a mind-boggling speed. One of her ears twitches as the pair of you approach. 

“Take a seat,” she orders in a reedy voice, not bothering to look up from her work. “The Director will be with you shortly.”

“Send them in, Eunjung!” Someone shouts from behind the metal door  just as she’s finished. She doesn’t look up or stop typing or even acknowledge you two again. Mr. Seo takes it upon himself to breeze past her desk and open the door for you. 

The office is militaristically organized, all right angles and bare metal surfaces. There’s a black leather couch that’d seen better days to your left as you enter, a half empty water cooler to your right. Bookshelves lined with trophies and textbooks dominate the western wall. You scan the titles as you pass: Predatory Instinct: The Teaching and Training Canines, The Utility of Force, On Raising Hybrids, The Art of War, all dangerous and daunting as the man they belonged to.

Lim Hangyeol is the most grizzled man you’ve ever seen and the only other human besides yourself and Mr. Seo in the compound, it seems. He looks like a drill sergeant from an old action movie, his salt and pepper hair buzzed short and his face craggy with frown lines. There’s a semicircle of pockmark scars marring the skin of his right cheek and as you get closer, you realize they’re teeth marks. You shoot a concerned look to Mr. Seo, but he’s more focused on giving the director a shallow bow than allaying any of your fears. 

“Director,” He says, straightening back up. “Thank you for having us-”

“Spare me the bullshit,” The older man orders, kicking back his office chair and sinking back into it. “Take a seat. Let’s talk business.” 

A cold smile settles on your attorney’s lips and you see a cord twitching in his jaw, but he merely nods and replies in a breezy voice, “Of course.” 

The two of you do as you told, settling into two metal chairs in front of his desk. These ones are nicer than the folding ones in the waiting room, but no more comfortable. You try to slide yours forward only to find that it’s bolted to the floor. 

“Stops the dogs from throwin’ em when they get bad news,” Director Lim tells you as you uselessly tug at the legs. “Got tired of replacing windows.”

You grimace. If the awards on the bookshelf, what Mr. Seo had told you and the dozens of hybrids running boot camp drills outside were any indication, the man before you must’ve had some idea what he was doing. You didn’t end up providing security for high profile public figures without a smidge of credibility, you knew, but the bite marks on his cheek, the little crack about people throwing chairs at him and the way he’d referred to them as ‘dogs’ didn’t inspire confidence in you. 

This was your first time visiting a place that produced hybrids, you realized. You’d never even been into a shelter before and certainly not a breeding center. Were they all like this? Devoid of anything soft or comforting, rigid with rules and regulations? Had Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung come from a place like this? You don’t know and you’re not sure you’d like the answer if you did. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” Mr. Seo starts, popping open the hinges on his briefcase and pulling out a few sheaves of paper. “After the sudden cancellation of your company’s contract with Ms. L/N, I was concerned for the state of our business relationship.” He slides one of the packets across the desk to the director. 

“If I remember correctly,” Director Lim says, scanning the lines of ink and unintelligible legalese, “Me and your boss signed for delivery, not me and whoever this little girl is you brought.” 

Your eyes narrow and your lips curl, but before you can give voice to the nasty thing crawling up your throat, Mr. Seo gives a subtle shake of his head and taps you twice on the knee, out of eyeshot of the director. You grumble, but cage it behind your teeth. 

“See?” The man jabs one gnarled finger at the page, right over your late uncle’s flourishing signature. “It says it right there: L/N Oliver. Last I checked, he was dead. I’m not holding on to a dead man’s dogs. ”

That same muscle tenses in Mr. Seo’s jaw. “The contract states that Black Mountain Canines would deliver the hybrids my client purchased to his residence on December the eighteenth and that they would be received by a proxy if he was unavailable. You were made aware of the fact that he was unavailable, as well as the fact that he now has a proxy-

“I’ll pay the goddamn fine!” The Director barks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Christ above, I don’t know why he wanted those two fuck-ups in the first place, but I don’t want them on my property a second longer.” 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look of confusion, but he just watches, blasé, as the Director rifles through his desk drawers. The man finds what he’s looking for and drops two manila folders on top of the contract. “The pair of them are useless. If it weren’t for my reputation, I’d’ve had them both sent to shelters years ago. Or put down, but you know how touchy the law is about that.”

“I don’t.” You say, your voice edging dangerously close to a snarl. It slips out before you can stop it. Mr. Seo shoots you a warning look and you ball your fists up in your sweater sleeves, fingernails biting crescent moons into your palms with the effort of keeping your mouth shut. 

You can’t stand this man, you decide. He’s awful. You should’ve known that from the moment you saw elementary school aged hybrids stumbling through taekwondo drills with their ears taped and bandages on their tails. You’re going to take whatever hybrids Oliver bought, get them the fuck out of there and never look back. 

If Director Lim had heard you growl at him, he gives no sign of it, just flips open the folders. “To be honest, I should be paying you to take them off my hands. They’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since they aged out of training. I told your uncle he could have his pick of the litter for what he was paying, but he wanted a wide-eyed buffoon and a mutt who’d rip your hand off soon as look at you.” Clipped to the insides are photos of two men, staring back at you in black and white. 

One has the same black and tan cropped ears as every other hybrid you’ve seen thus far. Unlike them, he’s smiling. His eyes are little upturned crescent moons and he beams at you through the photo paper. There’s so much light in his face it’s nearly blinding. 

The other is not nearly as inviting. The photo is taken at an odd angle and it’s blurry at the edges, like whoever took it was much shorter than the subject and had to zoom in to even get the shot. His ears, larger than any of the other hybrids and longer furred, are pinned back against his head. His jaw is clenched and he glowers down into the lens, one eye soot black and the other piercing blue. 

There are stats listed on the pages behind their photos: height, weight, shot records and the like. Among them, you see their call signs, highlighted in yellow: Hope and Monster. 

“I don’t know where I went wrong with him,” the director says, tapping Hope’s photo. “He went through all the training, passed all the tests, but when it comes down to it, he just doesn’t have the instinct.” He gives a single shake of his head, clicks the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “No one wants a guard dog that’d sooner talk an intruder’s ear off than actually guard what he’s supposed to. He’s not good for much but nannying the pups, but he’s too soft on them too.”

A light bulb clicks on and you realize the hybrid in question had been the one instructing the kids outside in the center of the yard, his tail wagging a mile a minute as they completed another form correctly.

“Now this bastard…” the director continues, jamming a finger onto the second photo with so much force, it rattled the cup of pens on his desk. “Is my biggest failure.” He crosses his arms and kicks back in his chair, his dislike of the hybrid in question obvious. “His mother was the cornerstone of this facility for nearly a decade. I sold her pups to assemblymen and actors alike. Centers around the country wanted pups with her genetics. If it weren’t for her, we’d never have grown to this size.” He sounds wistful as he spreads his hands out, gesturing around himself like a king taking in his holdings. “But all good things come to an end,” He sighs. “A pack of wild hybrids settled a little higher up on the mountain.” His face darkens and his lips twist. “Wolves,” he snarls with all the disdain he can muster. 

“All that about them being noble and self-sacrificing? Complete and utter bullshit,” He scoffs. “They’re transient lowlifes who’d slit your throat as soon as look at you. At first I didn’t care. They stayed on their side of the mountain and I stayed on mine, but then they started sneaking down here at night to steal my food and fuck my dogs. By the time I managed to get the cops out here, they’d cleared out and my top breeder had gone with them.”

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “I tell you, I thought I was ruined. But wouldn’t you know it, she came stumbling back here six months later, barefoot and howling to be let in and heavy with some wild thing’s pup.” Director Lim snaps both the folders shut and slides them to you across the desk. “The thing about breeding hybrids is, the money’s all in the bloodlines. No one wants a dog with mystery genetics. The only way to solve that problem is to cut it off at the root- but it was already too late by the time she got here.” 

You feel sick to your stomach. You hope he isn’t implying what you think he is- that hybrid children he hadn’t planned out himself were mistakes in need of correction- but you know he is. Deep in your gut you know.

“And she spoiled him. She let him run roughshod over everyone and everybody in this compound. I tried telling her wild hybrids need a firmer hand- he certainly did if we were gonna break that wolf he’s got inside him, but she wouldn’t hear it. I tried to crop him with the other pups his age, he gave me these,” he said, gesturing to the teeth marks in his cheeks. “We keep him shut up away from the others, now, in the back when he can’t bother anyone. He gets his meals delivered but we don’t ever let him out.” The grizzled man shakes his head. “A drain on resources is what he is.”

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly. 

“Eunjung?” he questions. “You met her on the way in.” The director stands and unclips a ring of keys from his belt buckle, making his way around the desk and gesturing for you and Mr. Seo to follow. “I’ve got her doing desk work now. Gotta keep her close so she doesn’t cause any more trouble.” He pushes open the door to his office, barks something at his secretary and steps outside, not looking back to see if you two are following. 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look before you stand and he meets it, evenly. “We’ll discuss this in the car,” he says, stuffing papers back into his briefcase and flicking the clasps shut. Oh, you most certainly will discuss ‘it’ in the car. 

You don’t really know what it is or where to even begin. The kids with bandaged ears? The fact that Director Lim seemingly decided who was allowed to see the sun and who wasn’t? You think back to the conversation you’d had with Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi last night. Right now, it seems years away, in some unreachable, idyllic past before you knew how breeding centers worked and how security hybrids were made. You feel foolish. Who were you to try to get them to let go of their pain and their hurt? If what they’d been through was even a little like what was going on here, they wouldn’t be able to for a long time. You’re angry. You’re disgusted. You are unquantifiably fucking sad. 

You pass Eunjung on your way out. In your time in the director’s office, she’s pulled her ash brown hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Peeking out of the collar of her sweatshirt you can see a faded scar in the shape of a ring, little puncture marks pale and glossy. It looked similar to the one on the director’s cheek, but this one was a complete circle and not ragged at all, like she’d stayed completely still while it was given. Teeth marks. 

You swallow. You want to do something, to give her some words of encouragement, but you have no idea what to say. You still don’t as you slow to a stop beside her desk, but you open your mouth to speak anyway. “I’m sorry,” You tell her, with all the sincerity in your heart. 

She doesn’t answer, but one cropped ear flicks toward you and her fingers slow in their incessant race across her keyboard. 

You turn to go. Mr. Seo was holding the door open for you and you can hear the director barking orders at a group of trainees to run an obstacle course faster. Just as you set foot over the threshold, she speaks. Her voice is so quiet, you have to strain to hear her over the steady clack-click-clack of her nails on the keys. 

“He likes green things,” she says, not looking up from her work. “And old books.” 

You look over your shoulder at her. Her face is a mask of neutrality, her eyes clear and her mouth set in a relaxed line. She looks fine, but there’s an ocean of meaning behind her words. You see her, just for a moment, as she’d been all those years ago, barefoot in the snow and begging for shelter, her stomach full with one of the moon’s own children. You commit the sight of her to memory. Then you turn and you go.

The director is waiting outside, shielding his eyes from the sun and regaling Mr. Seo with some long-winded explanation on the best way to treat hip dysplasia in Doberman hybrids. “Where to?” you ask, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. 

The man gives you a disgruntled look but despite the anxiety you feel spiking in your belly, you meet it evenly. Once upon a time, anyone in a position of authority looking at you the way he was would’ve sent you into a tailspin of self-doubt and nerves, leaving you shivering as your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, warning you of non-existent danger. If you were honest, it still did- but you didn’t have the luxury of running away and hiding anymore, not when there were people who needed you. 

“Hope’s bags are in the barracks. He just needs to grab them, and he can be on his merry way,” The direction grunts. “Monster’s still locked up, so I’ll-”

“I’ll go.” You can feel Mr. Seo stiffen beside you. 

“Ms. Y/N-”

“If he’s really that aggressive,” you start, your eyes not leaving the director’s for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to meet him now instead of when we’re packed into a car on a two hour car ride?” Director Lim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t falter. You hold your hand out for the key. Your boldness surprises you. He drops the key ring into your open palm and you wrap your fingers around it, stuffing it in your pocket before he can snatch them back. You turn on your heels and march off in the direction he tilts his head in, nothing but a hiss of your name from Mr. Seo’s lips to accompany you. 

You walk quickly, eyes straight and willing your legs to go faster with every stride. It’s a long way across the compound but the less time you spend walking, the less time you have to stew in anxiety. None of the hybrids training in little packs spread across the yard pay you any mind- except for Hope. 

Your path takes you directly behind the group of kids he’s working with. You give them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb them, but you get a little distracted. Your steps slow for just a moment as you drink him in. He’s tall- the same height as Taehyung, if you’re judging it right, but there’s an ease about him the tiger hybrid hasn’t yet mastered. Everything about Taehyung is pulled in. He’s always coiled tight, like he’s preparing to spring forward at any moment, all his energy drawn into the center of his being. Even last night, when you’d been cuddled up with him on the couch, he’d pulled you tight against his side, shifting and rearranging himself til you both fit on one cushion. He’d held you tight through both films, his tail curled around the both of you and his spine tight, like if he let himself relax for a moment, you’d both turn to dust on the wind. 

Hope has no such fear. Everything about him is spread wide open, from the heart-shaped smile on his lips to his arms as he demonstrates a series of punches to his little pack of students. They all watch him with rapt attention, ears perked up and bandaged tails wagging. One of them asks him a question and he laughs, ruffles their hair. He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, shoulders shaking like he can’t contain the force of it alone. It makes your heart flip. 

His ears twitch, picking up the change in the cadence of your footsteps. He looks up and your eyes meet for the first time. He looks surprised to see you, for a moment, face blank- but then it melts into a soft smile, brimming with affection you’ve done nothing to earn. You snatch your gaze away and fix it to the dirt in front of you, embarrassed at being caught. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him cock his head to the side in confusion, but he doesn’t go after you. All the better, you’re all but running away from him now. 

You shuffle across the compound in a blur of scuffed sneakers and frayed nerves. You barely give yourself time to look up at the small cinder block building before you, shoving the key in the padlock before you can lose what unearned confidence you have left. You twist it, yank the rusted thing open, take a deep breath and enter.

You don’t know what you’d been expecting, but it’s certainly not what you find. The way Director Lim had spoken about him and this place, you’d been expecting cobwebs on the ceiling, blood spatters on the wall and rusty nails on the floor. What’s before you is almost entirely the opposite.

The room is a veritable Eden. 

There are vines climbing every available wall, wrapping around structural posts and digging their way between concrete blocks. Every surface is crammed full of flowering plants in makeshift pots: lilies in old water jugs, violets in a worn out boot, black-eyed susans dripping orange petals from an upturned helmet. The floor is in a similar state, ferns and foxgloves turning what little space around his bed there is into a meadow. It’s beautiful. 

“He likes green things,” you marvel, stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind you. It seemed every living thing that’d been uprooted to expand the compound had found a second life here, sheltered from the Director’s violence. Maybe the hybrid who lived here had too. 

A plant different from all the others catches your eye. It’s set up on the cardboard box serving as his bedside table and it’s the only one in a real pot from what you can tell. It looks just like a miniature tree, complete with knobs on it’s trunk and tiny leaves. You let out a little sound of wonder and crouch in front of it, your fingers reaching out on their own to trail across the delicate branches-

A massive hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you cold. “Don’t touch that.” 

You hadn’t heard him approach, but now you knew he was there. You could feel his presence behind you, heavy and warm. He’s looming over you. You swallow and make your arm go limp in his grip. No need to give him a reason. “I won’t,” You tell him. “Will you please let go of my wrist?”

He drops your arm without protest and relief floods your body. You weren’t sure if there was a hybrid version of lockjaw and you certainly weren’t itching to find out. You sit back on your heels and struggle to your feet, still hyper aware of the person behind you, his eyes boring holes into the back of your head. By the time you turn around, he’s back where he came from, standing in the entrance for a bathroom you hadn’t seen, half hidden behind a curtain of vines. 

He looks different than the others. You’d been expecting that, but the full-length fluffy tail held stiffly behind his back and the long-furred ears pointed away from you are still a surprise. His fur, instead of being in rigid black and tan points, is marked by whorls of black, brown and gray. Instead of the lean musculature all the other hybrids had -all trim waists and narrow ankles- he’s sturdier, his shoulders broad and the veins in his forearms popping as he clenches his fists. He’s looking at you with that mismatched glare, his chin tilted toward his chest and his eyes shining aquamarine and obsidian. 

“If you’re new,” he starts, voice raspy. “They should’ve told you: you’re supposed to knock before you come in.”

“No, I’m not-”

“You can leave the food over there.” He nods toward a little plastic folding table jammed into one corner. It’s the one surface in his room that’s devoid of plants and there’s nothing on it besides a metal cafeteria tray, licked clean. “I won’t move when your back is turned.”

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

He frowns, brows drawing together as his shoulders tense. “Then why are you…?”

You ball your hands up in your sweater sleeves and turn to face him full on. “I’m here to take you home with me.” You tell him. “They didn’t tell you?”

He laughs, but it’s a cold sound, devoid of joy. “Nobody tells me anything.”

Based on the short conversation you’d had with Director Lim, his sudden cancellation of contracts and the way he seemed ready to bulldoze over anything and everyone that didn’t fit his agenda, he didn’t seem the sharing type. Still it was hard to believe he hadn’t told him he’d be leaving the compound that’s been his home for over twenty years. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you add, softly. “If you don’t want to. I know I’m a stranger. But you can leave-”

“I can’t go anywhere.” He taps the collar around his neck. At first, you’d thought it was the same as the ones every other hybrid had been wearing. You can see now that it isn’t. Theirs had all been leather with thin silver buckles holding them in place. His was leather too, but the band was broader and double-layered. There’s a little box on the side with hinges and a small drawing of a lighting bolt. A shock collar. 

Your stomach turns. 

You take a slow step toward him, but the second you do, his ears go flat against his head and he pulls his lips back, revealing sharp teeth. You freeze, hands held up and the keys dangling from your thumb. “I have the keys,” you say, extending them toward him. 

His eyes flick from your face, to the keys in your hand and back again, like he doesn’t believe what’s happening, like he can’t believe you’d actually want him free. The silence drags out into a little eternity before he speaks again. “If I try to unlock it, it’ll shock me.”

You blink up at him and risk another slow step forward, hoping you’ve caught his meaning correctly. This time, he doesn’t growl but his ears stay pinned back as he watches you through narrowed eyes. You close the distance between the two of you. 

When you were six, your mom scraped together enough money to take you to Busan for your birthday. You’d spent the day down at the beach, building sand castles with sea shell windows and wading through tide pools. After the sun had set, someone had set off fireworks and you’d watched them cuddled up in your mom’s arms, eyes wide and filled with a riot of colors you had no name for. It’s strange, you know. The ocean is miles away, but that’s what he smells like: the sea and the sand, and the last curls of smoke from homemade bottle rockets. He smells like that day. 

You lift your hands to the clasp on his neck and slide the key home. You twist it and the collar falls to the ground, a monster that can’t hurt him anymore. His skin is warm under your fingers, but puckered with scar tissue. There’s a ring of it around his neck, branching with whatever current had run through him in different directions. There’s no way this was legal, no way anyone with half a heart could treat another person like this. Your fingers trail one of the splits over his adam’s apple and he swallows beneath your touch, snatching your wrist again. 

“Dont.” His voice is cold. You blink, shaking off whatever spell you’d been under and shuffle back quickly, eager to give him space. He cradles his throat with one long-fingered hand, massaging the skin. He rolls his neck and you look away. You shouldn’t stare; the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “I’ll go with you,” he rasps, answering the question before you can ask it again.

You gape for a second. You really hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Really?” You can’t stop a note of relief from creeping into your voice.

“Anywhere’s better than here.” He answers back. So, you were a means to an end. It doesn’t bother you. You’ll be whatever you need to be to get him away from this place and that man who seemed to only want to drive him down. 

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

He gives a firm shake of his head. “There’s nothing from this place I want to keep.” And that’s the end of it. You push open the door and stride back out into the cold mountain air, trying your best to exude the confidence you know you lack. The hybrid slinks behind you, head hunched between his shoulders and every step stiff. He hesitates at the threshold and looks up at you, uncertainty written in the rigid line of his spine. He’s nervous. He has every right to be. 

How long had he spent in that little cinderblock room, shut away from every living thing? How long had he spent being told that he was a monster? You didn’t believe it, not for one second. No one who was as violent as the director had painted him out to be could’ve raised that garden. 

He leans out of the door frame, sniffs the air and lurches forward, out of the shadow of his room, His shoulders bunch up even higher around his head and he goes stiff like he’s waiting for a shock or a shot or a shout- but none comes. The sun is still shining and he’s barefoot in the sand, standing for the first time in years under the open sky. He exhales in a short puff and it looks like he’s going to walk beside you- but he turns on his heels on goes back inside. 

You make a little noise of distress in the back of your throat. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to come with you anymore? You go to call his name out of concern- but realize you don’t know it. All you have is the call sign he’d been given and you sure as fuck aren’t calling him ‘Monster’. You don’t have to flounder for long. He comes back out two seconds later, cradling the bonsai that’d caught your attention to his chest. 

“I’ll take this,” he mutters, shuffling into place behind you. You can’t smother the smile that starts tugging at your lips. Yeah, no one hateful would hold a little tree with as much tenderness as an infant. 

You give him a little nod. “There’s a terrace where I live,” you tell him, starting your trek across the yard once again. “It’s got a garden and a little greenhouse on it. It’s not very big, and it’s not as pretty as your’s, but you could grow new things there, if you wanted.”

His ears twitch in response, but he keeps his glower firmly focused on the plant in his arms as he shuffles along beside you. It’s then you notice he’s barefoot. “Do you wanna go back and get your shoes?” You ask, trying to make the question sound as innocuous as possible.

“Don’t have any,” he grumbles back. “Don’t need them; I never go outside.” 

Alright, that was understandable. Your first stop when you got back into the city would be a shoe store to get him a pair to wear- or maybe not with the way he kept flinching every time a whistle blew and his ears were swivelling like satellites at each new sound that reached them. You chew the inside of your lip. You don’t want to ask, but you know you should. Better to rip the bandaid off now, than get surprised later. “How long were you shut in for?”

“Fourteen.” He bites out. 

“...weeks?” You venture. There's a hopeful uptick at the end of your words. Even that would’ve been horrible, even that would be worthy of the litany of profanity you’re mentally lobbing at Director Lim- but it’s still better than the truth. 

The hybrid cuts a flat look at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Years.” 

A wall of your scent hits him like a freight train, vacillating between the thick, cloying odor of sadness and the burn of anger. His nose wrinkles at it, brows drawing together in confusion. 

However little you might’ve known about hybrids, however limited your view of them was, you knew they weren’t supposed to be locked up. Domesticated hybrids like hamsters and cats might’ve been fine inside a house all day, assuming they still had regular interaction with people- but dogs weren’t. And he was half wolf. Wild, he’d have had dozens of square miles to roam over, and he’d been limited to a four-by-four yard room for fourteen years. Your goshiwon was a similar size, but it hadn’t been your whole world. All he’d had was one tiny window and what narrow view he’d managed to glimpse in the doorway when his meals were delivered. 

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’re cut off by a scream of delight and a snarl keying up in the hybrid next to you’s chest. Your jaw snaps shut with a click. 

A few yards ahead, there’s a group of kids wrestling in a massive pile. They’re all giggling and rolling over each other, tails wagging a mile a minute as they play bite and make grabs for the person at the center of their puppy pile. A head of black hair and a pair of cropped ears pop up and you see that it’s Hope, smiling bright as the sun as his students try to pin him. 

“You can’t leave!” One particularly determined kid yips, adamantly pushing his shoulder back to the sand. “Who’s gonna teach us?”

Hope just laughs.”Lisa is gonna teach you with the older kids-“

A chorus of disappointed barks and howls breaks out. “Ms. Lisa’s classes are too hard!” A little girl complains.

“Yeah!” Someone else chimes in. “And she’s strict!” 

The hybrid ruffles both kid’s hair affectionately, careful of their bandaged ears. “Just because she won’t let you get away with skipping night practice doesn’t mean she’s strict,” he laughs. He’s only met with more grumbles and complaints. 

It warms your heart to see. Even if these kids were at the mercy of their director -for now, at least- it was good that they had him to rely on. Your eyes meet and the sheer force of light in his face makes your own heat up. You look away, but he’s spotted you. He disentangles himself from the mess of kids and draws himself up to his full height. He’s in the same uniform he was in before, albeit with a black tactical bag now strapped to his back. He takes a step toward you and the wolfdog hybrid's ears go flat against his skull. He’s not deterred. “Joonie?”  It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to the hybrid next to you. “Kim Namjoon, is that you?” Hope takes one step forward and the hybrid - Namjoon - takes a step back to counter him. Hope looks like he’s going to advance again, but a small pair of hands wrapped around one of his own stops him. 

A little girl is holding on to him. She can’t be more than six years old. Her tail is still long and her ears are still floppy and she looks so small in her child-sized boots and cargo pants. “Mr. Hobi,” she whines, her head craned back to look up at him. “Please don’t go.”

He falters. His eyes flick from the pair of you back down to her, then he crouches, holds both of her hands in his. “I have to, Sowon-ah,” he says softly. 

She sniffles pitifully and juts out her lower lip.”But why?” 

It’s a fair question. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to come with you if he  doesn’t want to, but he beats you to the punch. “Because it’s my job, sweetheart,” he tells her, smiling softly.

“Y-your job is to teach us,” she hiccups back, face growing blotchy as tears well up in her eyes. Hope swipes one of them away with his thumbs. 

“I teach you so you can grow up well and protect your person, right?” She nods, little hands balling the fabric of her cargo pants up in her fists. “Right. Well this,” he continues, turning and looking at you with a soft smile. “Is my person. And I’ve gotta go make sure she stays safe.” 

You feel your heart jump into your throat. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and you don’t deserve it. You’ve done nothing to warrant that much unearned loyalty. Sowon rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and Hope pulls her into a tight hug. 

“Ah, don’t cry, Sowon! You’ve gotta make sure you get stronger so someone takes you home, okay? You don’t wanna get old and still be here like me, right?” He squeezes her and goes to stand, but gets mobbed by his students again, all wanting their own hugs and making him swear to write them letters. It takes another five minutes of tearful goodbyes and Director Lim approaching for them to turn him loose.

“Get back to your training, all of you!” He barks, stomping out of the office and slamming the door, Mr. Seo on his heels. The kids scatter to the four winds almost instantly, not wanting to be underfoot for whatever scolding the director was about to deal out. Hope’s face remains the same but you catch his ears droop just a little as his students leave him. The wolfdog hybrid- Namjoon, you remind yourself- on the other hand has his ears flat against his skull. A growl bubbles up in his chest and rips past his lips. It’s a dark, full bodied thing that has you taking a step back and Hope shrinking with a whine. 

“Joonie-” he pleads. 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” All the fur on Namjoon’s body is standing on end, from the points of his ears to the tip of his tail. Even his hair has fluffed out. His mismatched eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals his incisors and all that fury, all that rage, is leveled on Director Lim. 

To his credit, the grizzled man doesn’t shrink back an inch before the enraged hybrid. His lips twist and he yanks a little remote out of his pocket, mashing a red button in the center. Namjoon flinches, his hands fly to his neck- but nothing happens. The shock collar is gone and the director has no power over him anymore. 

The man in question’s eyes widen, flicking between the remote to the column of Namjoon’s throat, now devoid of his one element of control. “Where’s his collar?” He demands. “How the hell did you get your collar off?” He advances on the tall hybrid, his hand in the air and though he doesn’t stop snarling, Namjoon ducks his head, anticipating the blow. 

You don’t know what moves you. Maybe it’s Hope pleading for it all to ‘stop, just stop!’. Maybit’s how Namjoon knows exactly how to move when he’s about to get hit. Maybe it’s your own lack of self-preservation. Whatever it is, you blink and you’re in front of Namjoon, your hand up and clutching the director’s forearm, stopping him from striking the hybrid behind you. You’re not strong enough to stop him, not fully. Your elbow buckles in and you stumble back, your back pressing into the wolfdog hybrid’s chest.

The director yells something at you, red flooding his face. You can’t hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. You force a dry swallow down your throat, put on your bravest face and glare up at him. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

He reaches out with his free hand to tug you out of the way, but before he can touch you, Hope is there. He presses close to your side and holds the director’s wrist firm, his eyes on the sand and his shoulders hunched up by his ears.

Director Lim looks angry enough to spit. “Hell of a time for you to grow a backbone,” he snarls at Hope, making the doberman hybrid flinch. “I want all four of you off my property now.” He snatched his arms free and you don’t miss the nasty glare he casts at Namjoon. “And if this mutt ever shows his face around here again, I’ll-”

“Director Lim,” Mr. Seo cuts in, his voice cool. “You’ve made yourself clear; we’ll leave. You needn’t make threats.” There’s an underlying warning in the attorney’s voice. The director locks his jaw.

“Get out.” He breathes. Hope ducks around him, his head low and his docked tail pressed close to his back. If he could tuck it, you think he would. You follow after him, eyes fixed straight ahead and your back ramrod straight. He might’ve scared the shit out of you, but you weren’t going to let him see that. Mr. Seo fixes you with a hard look and the second you’re within arms reach, he presses a hand to your back and ushers you toward the gate. The only one who remains is Namjoon.

He looks like his anger has rooted him to the spot. His ears are still flat against his head, his lip still curled. 

“Do it, boy,” the director taunts. “Give me a reason-”

“Namjoon.” At the sound of his name, his ears prick up and you turn around. It’d come not from Hope- which you’d expected, seeing as he seemed to be the only one who actually knew his fellow hybrid’s name- but from the open door of the office building where Eunjung stood. She looks at him, her expression unreadable and he stares back. All the tension in his body has shifted and for a moment, you think he’s going to spring toward her and fall into her arms- but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and his face hardens. His arms tighten around his bonsai. You think you know, now, why it was the only plant in his room that had a pot. 

“Go,” she says and all the tension leaves him. His shoulders curve in and he drags himself past the director, out from the fence and toward Mr. Seo’s car. There’s something final about the way the gate rolls shut after him. If you hadn’t known better, you’d’ve sworn you heard him whine as it locked. 

The car ride down the mountain is...interesting to say the least. Hope insists that the seating arrangements inside the Buick be done to his specifications,( “You’ve gotta sit in the middle,” he tells you, pointing to the narrow center seat. “And Joonie and I will sit on either side of you to protect you in case we crash!” His tail is wagging a mile a minute behind him. You’re surprised it can move that much, given how short it is. Mr. Seo looks affronted at the unintentional jab at his driving and Namjoon just looks irritated. “I told you to stop calling me that.”) and he keeps throwing an arm across your middle everytime the car hits a bump. You’re going down the side of a mountain. There are a lot of bumps. He also keeps pressing his nose against the glass of his window, ears pricked up and trying to take in every tree that passes by. Namjoon, on the other hand, slouches back in his seat, his body curved around his plant and ever so slightly away from you. He still watches the world pass by, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of you or speak- which would be fine if anyone else would. Hope seems to be doing his best to appear stoic and alert every time you look at him and Mr. Seo seems comfortable with the quiet. So, you’re left to ride the two hours back to Seoul in silence. 

You almost cry with relief when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. You fish the device out of your pocket, thumb it to life and scan your notifications.

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

You frown. Very few people had your number or any reason to text you. You’re about to chalk it up to a wrong number when the second text rolls in.

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

Now that’s a surprise. When you’d hurriedly told the boys to text you, you’d been expecting Jimin to urge you to hurry or for Taehyung to ask for updates, not for their hyung to check your progress. A little smile pricks at your lips as you rush to reply

You [7:14 PM] We’re on the way back now!

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi 

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

You bite the inside of your lip, suddenly nervous. You know there’s no reason to be. After all, you tell yourself, what’s scary about a pair of roommates talking on the phone? You give him the go ahead and not three seconds after the delivered notification pops up, you get a call. You answer it on speaker.

“...Hello?”

“Did you just start driving?” Yoongi’s voice is thick with sleep, like he’s just woken up. It’s different than normal, his usual smooth drawl gone gravelly. 

“Y-yeah,” you reply, trying to ignore the way Hope is watching you out of the corner of his eyes and Namjoon’s ears have swiveled back toward you. “It’s gonna be awhile, still. Are Taehyung and Jimin-”

“They’re fine; They ate dinner earlier and they’ll be asleep til you get back.” He yawns and you picture him slouched on the couch, his hair mashed up on one side and his face puffy.  “Why do you sound nervous?”

“I’m not,” you counter. It’s a blatant lie and he knows it. He hums in doubt, but doesn’t press you.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Do you want me to text you when we’re close?” It’s an innocuous question. There’s no reason you can see for him to pause as long as he does. For a second you think you’ve lost him- after all, mountains aren’t known for having great reception- but then you hear his breath fan over the receiver. 

“...Yeah.” 

You give a little nod you know he can’t see. “Okay.” He makes a little noise of assent and then his line clicks off. You hang up. Just as you do, another text comes through. 

Yoongi [7:16 PM] don’t let them scent you

“Who was that?” Hope asks in a small voice, pulling you away from your phone screen and Yoongi’s insistence that you remain scent-free. His tone is open, but you can tell by the way his knee is bouncing that he really, really wants to know. “Is that your husband?”

The bark of laughter that rips past your lips is out before you can think to stop it. Namjoon flinches and you wince at him in apology, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Hope is frowning at you in confusion, his head cocked slightly to the side. You force yourself to calm and answer him. “No, Yoongi is not my husband.” You weren’t sure if you even really qualified as friends at this point. “He’s another hybrid that lives with me.”

Hope perks up in his seat. “You have another hybrid? Director Lim always told us that once we left the center, we’d be alone.” Your expression sours at the mention of the ill-tempered man and you shake your head. 

“No, there’s a lot of hybrids in Seoul,” you tell him, eager to dispel some of his misconceptions. “The three that live with me are named Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi’s around your age, I think. Jimin and Taehyung are younger.” The doberman hybrid sits at rapt attention, soaking up every bit of information you give him and waiting eagerly for more. What else could you tell him about them? You remember the boys’ reaction that morning when you told them you’d be bringing dog hybrids home. “...They’re all felines,” you say, slowly, trying to gauge their reactions. 

“So that’s why you smell like that.” It’s the first words Namjoon’s spoken since you all piled into the car. You turn to him, but he’s not looking at you.

“What do you-?”

“You smell like other hybrids,” Hope says, covering for him. “But I’ve never smelled any that weren’t other dogs before.” He leans closer, his seatbelt stretching. You tense and lean away from him, but he’s not deterred. The tip of his nose brushes your neck and you have to fight off a shiver as he breathes you in. “They smell the same…” he starts, his breath fanning over your throat. “...but different? And one of them isn’t as strong as the others-” He presses closer, trying to catch the scent that’s eluding him. You make a noise of mild distress and lean further back, pressing into the solid wall that is Namjoon. 

“Hoseok, let it go .” Hoseok. That was his real name then. To your surprise, the dog hybrid pulls back as instructed, settling back into his seat without so much as a whine.

“I’ve never met a cat before,” he muses, turning his attention back to the window. “I hope they’re nice.”

You think about the chorus of hisses you’d been met with when you told the boys they’d have to share their space. You hope so too.

It’s 9:30 by the time Mr. Seo drops you off back in front of your building. He wishes you a good night and promises to call later in the week to discuss Black Mountain Canines. You’re not sure if there’s anyone to report him to or anything you can do, but you want to try. What you’d seen at the compound was wrong any way you looked at it. It made you sick to leave anyone there knowing how the director treated Namjoon and Hoseok. No one was useless. No one deserved to be locked away for years at a time for the sheer crime of existing. You’d make them see that. 

The moment you step out of the car, Hoseok is all wide smiles and exclamations. “Woah, you live here?” he asks, tilting his head back to take in all fifty-one floors of Haneul Tower in their sparkling, glass-paned glory.

“Yeah,” you tell him, handing him his bag. In his excitement to get out of the car, he’d abandoned it and Mr. Seo had nearly driven away with it. “But I just moved in a couple days ago, so it’s still pretty empty.”

Hoseok nods, scanning the windows like he’ll be able to pick out which one’s your’s. Behind you, Namjoon is lingering on the sidewalk.

He’s still got his bonsai clutched close to his chest and he’s hunched down around it like he’s trying to stop unseen hands from picking at it. His shoulders are bunched up by his ears, and he flinches with every car horn, every siren that comes to you on the wind. He’d grown up in the mountains and spent the better part of his life indoors. It only made sense that he’d be sensitive to the sounds of the city. 

“Is there a security system?” Hoseok asks, still enamored with the building. “How many entrances does your apartment have?”

“Just one second,” you tell him, forehead wrinkling as you take in Namjoon. You slide slowly toward the wolfdog, not wanting to startle him. “Namjoon?” He flinches when you call his name, head whipping toward you. “Do you wanna go inside? I know it’s new, but it’ll be quieter, I think.”

His mismatched eyes flick from you, to Hoseok, to the building and back to you before settling firmly on the concrete at his feet. He seems different than he had in the mountains. He’s smaller, quieter, less sure of himself. Was it because this is all new territory for him? Or had the snarling hybrid in the mountains just been a roll he was forced to play, the mythic monster to the director’s tyrant king. 

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” you tell him, in a voice you hope is reassuring. “We can wait, if you need to.”

“I’ll wait with you, Joonie,” Hope chimes in, giving the larger hybrid the same soft smile he’d given his students earlier. 

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It...it’s fine,” he mutters, “We can go in, I just…” He takes a few hesitant steps forward and huddles closer to you. There’s still an inch between you, but it’s closer than you’d thought he’d come. 

You peer up at him. “Okay?” You ask. He gives a single nod and your little group moves through the double doors and into the lobby. 

It’s quieter at this time of night. You don’t recognize the woman standing behind the reception desk. There’s no one really around except one man, pacing the width of the lobby looking thoroughly put out. You can’t really see his face, but there’s something familiar about the slant of his body. He whirls around as the glass doors click shut and you catch sight of a fringe of gray hair, pointed ears, narrowed yellow eyes and an all too familiar pout. 

Yoongi. 

“Fuck.” You’d completely forgotten to text him. Judging by the look on his face as he stalks toward you, he wasn’t happy about it. To his credit, Hoseok does his best to guard you, sliding in front of you and pushing you behind him. You can’t see Yoongi’s ears beneath the hat he’s wearing but if his curled lip and narrowed eyes are any indicator, they’re pinned straight back. 

“Move.” He snarls at the doberman hybrid. Hoseok is taller than he is, but the closer Yoongi gets to him, the smaller he seems to shrink. There’s fire in the bobcat hybrid’s eyes. Hope whimpers and slinks out of his way, ears low. 

You wince. “Heeeeey, Yoongi. I’m sorry I forg-“ before you can even finish the sentence, he tugs you toward him by the shoulders. His face roves your neck, sniffing in earnest as he tries to pick up the scent of the other hybrids on you. All is well until he reaches the right side of your throat and grazes over the exact spot Hoseok had nosed earlier. He pulls away slowly, his shoulders tight. His head turns slowly to the doberman hybrid, mechanical. 

“You.” He hisses at the other hybrid with so much virulence it makes your blood run cold. He takes one step toward him, teeth bared in a snarl, but Namjoon slides in front of him bumping him back. A growl bubbles in the bobcat hybrid’s chest and the wolfdog matches it, both their ears pinned flat against their skulls. 

“Hey-” If either of them hear you, they don’t react. They’re too focused on having a staring contest. “Hey!” You push between them, a hand on either of their chests. Namjoon snarls as you touch him and Yoongi looks ready to skin him alive for that alone. He pushes against your hand, trying to get closer to the taller hybrid. You ball your hand up in the fabric of his shirt. “Stop it!” The receptionist already has the lobby phone in her hand. She’s whispering earnestly into it and you’re sure security will be on the way any second. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut. “Everybody, elevator.” 

Yoongi hurls an accusatory finger in Hoseok’s direction. “These fucking-”

“Yoongi, please,” you plead. That gets him to stop. His arm falls to his side and he glowers down at you for a few seconds before stalking over to the elevators and slamming the up button. “I’m sorry,” you murmur to Hoseok and Namjoon. The smaller of the two hybrids is still hunched in on himself and the taller has Yoongi fixed in his mismatched gaze, his lips curled in anger. 

This was not the way you wanted this to go. You’d wanted them to have time to settle before you discussed next steps and gave them the same talk you’d given the felines, but it didn’t look like that was in the cards. You don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi. You’d thought the bobcat hybrid was calm, cool and collected, completely unflappable in the face of anything. Apparently not. He seemed upset that some of Hoseok’s scent had gotten on you, but there’d been no way to help that. You’d been packed in a car with him and Namjoon for two hours. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

“It’s not okay,” you tell them, wanting them to know you didn’t condone the way Yoongi had acted. “I don’t...I don’t know why he’s acting like this; he doesn’t normally. Do you wanna go up separately?”

It’s Hoseok who answers. “No, we’ll go up together,” he assures you with a small nod. “If...maybe if we get used to each other, it’ll be okay?” 

You’re not optimistic, but you give him a pained smile you hope is reassuring. “Yeah, maybe?” You cast a look back over your shoulders. Yoongi is waiting by the elevators, his arms crossed over his chest and his tail flicking in irritation. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Well, there was no avoiding it. “Come on,” you tell them. “Just...keep to the other side, for now. I’ll stand between you and him.” 

The four of you pile into the elevator, all tucked into your own corners. It’s strange, you think. It’s never seemed small until now. Hoseok keeps casting worried looks over at you, Namjoon keeps subtly shifting closer and Yoongi is still glowering at the both of them, angry for a reason you can’t quantify. 

“If it helps,” Hoseok starts softly, his voice an intrusion in the awkward silence. “I really didn’t mean to, honestly-”

“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon counters. “If it bothers him that much, he can speak up” 

You don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s too late that you realize the canines aren’t addressing you. Suddenly, Yoongi’s fingers are hooked through one of your belt loops. He yanks you backwards and you stumble, falling against the length of his body. “My bad,” You shoot out, before the hybrid can hiss at you. “I just lost my bala-” The words die on your tongue as Yoongi fixes his mouth to the soft skin of your throat. The elevator goes quiet.

The canine hybrids avert their eyes almost instantaneously, instinct telling them they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be. Yoongi keeps them fixed firmly in his sights, a dark growl bubbling in his throat. 

Your fingers flex uselessly at your sides, hands clenching unclenching as the hybrid works over the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth and tongue. ‘Don’t make a noise,’ you plead with yourself. ‘This isn’t what it feels like. Don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise-’ Yoongi’s incisors graze over a vein and a little whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. The grip he has on your hips becomes bruising. You feel your legs turning to jelly beneath you. Any more of what he was doing, and they’d have to mop you up off the elevator floor. You force your throat to swallow. “Y-Yoongi, I think that’s enough-” You don’t know if he hears you over the noise he’s making, so you lace your fingers through his and untangle them from your hips. He releases you with a wet pop and you slap a hand over the skin he’d marked. Heat floods your face and a smirk spreads across Yoongi’s, his teeth flashing at the canines. He leans in again to rub his nose against the mark he’d made- but a hand on his chest stops him. 

“Can you stop?” You ask in a small voice. Honestly, you’re embarrassed. Regardless of what the articles said about mark-making being platonic, it doesn’t feel friendly. It feels possessive and mean and you don’t like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you like you asked, but what is with you today?” Yoongi’s expression changes from smug satisfaction to confusion and then surprise, like he hadn’t expected you to protest. “I know what I said about you being ready but…” You rub a hand over the mark, wiping away saliva and your sweat. The bobcat hybrid visibly deflates. The elevator chimes for the fiftieth floor and the doors roll open slowly. You rush out before any of them can and start punching the code in your door with shaky fingers. You don’t know what to say. You’re tired and stressed and you don’t know what’s going on. Was this about the apartment? You knew the felines wouldn’t be happy about sharing their space, but why had Yoongi gone this far?

“Y/N…” He trails after you, his ears drooping. You shake your head, You can’t talk to him right now. 

“In the morning,” you tell him as the door swings open. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” You can’t deal with everything that’s happened today, and Yoongi flipping out and getting the canines settled. You weren’t that good at juggling. 

By the grace of all that’s merciful, Taehyung and Jimin are still asleep when you walk in. You’d need to have an extended meet and greet tomorrow, you decide. Maybe do some icebreakers or team building exercises. If they reacted anything like their hyung did, you were in for one hell of an adjustment period. 

Hoseok and Namjoon trail you into the penthouse warily, sniffing the air. You want to give them time to explore and get their bearings, they deserve that, but with the way Yoongi still seems agitated when they venture anywhere but exactly in your steps, that’ll need to be saved until tomorrow morning too. You give them the most spartan tour you can muster up and show them each to a guest room, promising to order them furniture and get them the things they need tomorrow. 

By the time you collapse into your own bed, it’s damn near 11. You groan and drag a pillow over your face as you ask the universe for the thousandth time why it had decided to continuously kick your ass. Having three hybrids had been hard enough. Having five of all different species was likely to prove impossible and having seven was going to be a sisyphean task you’d had no training for. You groan and kick your feet in the air, allowing yourself the brief respite of a temper tantrum before crawling under your covers and flicking the lamp off. Maybe in your dreams there’d be no stress and no snarling hybrids with behavior you couldn’t explain.

[a-couple-of-notes]

Thoughts on Yu post c3e29

I want to be clear: if Yu were a real person, I would hate them. They are unequivocally terrible. I've seen some things going around to the tune of "they didn't attack the party, just talked sexily evilly" and "stabbing was an overreaction" and "actually, Birdie seems just as untrustworthy for stealing the crown/making this machine that will definitely have unintended consequences." And let me just say - no. Absolutely not. To run down the list:

"They didn't attack the party, just talked evilly." A number of different people have already covered this, but you don't have to attack people physically to hurt them. Yu constantly gaslights ("I have been forthright with you about most things"), emotionally manipulates (turning into the half-elf man and Imogen, making Fearne doubt her affection for her mother/grandmother, bringing up Delilah, all the circular arguments about trust), and belittles ("you need me, you couldn't survive without me, you couldn't even choose breakfast without me") the party. This is absolutely intentional hurt, much like Saundor and his emotional manipulation of Vex'ahlia in Campaign 1.

"Stabbing was an overreaction." For DnD, with a legacy of stabbing bad things? Not really. In terms of causing yikes-damage to Yu, the only people who try are Fearne (it's Fearne) and maybe Birdie with the sneak attack. Orym does a bunch of damage as well, but mainly wants to knock Yu prone; the damage stacks because Yu keeps succeeding on strength checks. (He also jabs at her back a lot, but those seem to be escalating warnings.) In a world where you have healing spells and long rests bring you back up, the act of stabbing becomes a lot less dire than in real life. It's fiction, y'all!

"Actually, Birdie seems just as untrustworthy." So? Whether or not Birdie has bad intentions or has worked with bad people, this does not change the fact that Yu infiltrated the party, repeatedly lied to them, and then done all the above stuff when Bells Hells confronted them. Or the fact that they're there to kill Birdie, Ollie, and probably Fearne (they did say, "I will end the Calloway line" in their conversation with the Sorrowlord).

Okay. But with all that said: As a character pushing the narrative, Yu is great, and I'm so glad the party didn't kill them.

Again, this is fiction! Yu would be a terrible person in real life, but story-wise, the way they shook up the party is so, so interesting. We got to see Bells Hells confronted with barbs targeted to cause maximum emotional distress! We got to see what they do in the middle of a messy conflict with confusing sides! There were so, so many juicy actions that revealed these characters' lines and priorities, and also really solidified (for me) their actual approach to conflict as a party.

That's great stuff. And the fact that they didn't kill Yu means it's possible they could come back and shake things up again.

It would have been very gratifying if the party had overcome Yu's manipulation and killed her. But it would have been gratifying if Vox Machina had managed to kill Delilah all the way, too. In both cases, I think we got something far more interesting.