#elafi oc

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You are overwhelmed by anger and helplessness. “You failed as a Master,” poisonous voice whispers inside your head. “You let them take him.”

But the SUV is still there, right in front of you. And as long as your eyes are locked onto it, you will not let it get away with what belongs to you—what has always been yours.

You have to stop it.

Continuing the chase would only waste fuel and precious time. So you make a decision: you’ll block its path.

The street is nearly empty, only a couple of cars far ahead. No obstacles. No witnesses close enough to interfere. If you’re going to do something reckless, now is the moment. And that is exactly what you will do.

You slam your foot down on the accelerator. The speedometer needle jerks sharply to the right as your car lunges forward. Your hands clamp around the steering wheel, steady and controlled, even as the world around you blurs and trembles. You calculate every movement carefully. Losing control is not an option.

You shoot past the SUV like a bolt of lightning, then ease off the gas and yank the wheel to the left, forcing your car directly into its path. The seat belt digs into your chest and throat. Your vehicle tilts dangerously, the right-side tires lifting off the ground for a second before slamming back down onto the asphalt.

The SUV barrels toward you. Rubber shrieks against pavement as it brakes at the last possible moment. The sheer momentum sends its massive bumper scraping against the side of your car, jolting you violently but not enough to hurt you. It stopped just in time.

And you don’t waste another second.

You tear off your seat belt, kick the driver’s door open, and step out. Your tense legs shake, nearly buckling beneath the lingering surge of adrenaline, but you force yourself upright. The gun, once tucked away in the glove compartment, is now solid in your grip.

You raise your arm and fire.

One, two, three, four shots. You make sure the front tires of the SUV are useless before lowering the weapon. Silence falls. No one comes out to confront you.

You walk forward with steady steps and tap the rear door with the still-smoking barrel of your gun. The tinted window rolls down slowly with a mechanical hum, revealing the annoyed face of the blonde woman behind the glass.

“Give me back what belongs to me,” you say, your voice clear and dangerous, while you look down at her.

She presses her lips together, studying you with sharp, pale eyes. There’s no mistaking it—she knows she has lost.

“Let him out,” she orders.

The door swings open. One of the bodyguards drags Elafi out roughly, his hands and feet bound and still gagged with duct tape, and throws him onto the ground in front of you without a second thought. The deer lets out a pained whimper as he hits the asphalt.

“Take good care of him,” the woman says, her gaze drifting past you and settling on your pet. “A pretty little creature like that tends to draw a lot of… attention.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply.

She puts on her sunglasses and rolls the window back up. You take her gesture as a silent promise —that she won’t bother you again. At least not for now.

The best thing to do is leave immediately before someone call the police.

You run to your pet, still lying in the street. You don’t even bother untying him; instead, you lift him under the arms and carry him to your car. You shove open the back door, place him inside, then rush back behind the wheel, start the engine, and speed away.

It isn’t until the black SUV is far behind you and you pull over on the side of an empty street that you finally feel like you can breathe again. Your body is still trembling from the adrenaline.

So close to losing him.

You glance into the rearview mirror. Elafi is staring at you from the back seat, his huge brown eyes wide and glossy. Fresh tear tracks stain his cheeks, and his lovely dark blue outfit looks a bit disheveled.

But he’s safe. He’s back with you.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him softly. “We’ll be home soon.”

You get back on the road, and half an hour later you’re parking safely inside your garage. The dent in your driver’s side door is impossible to miss. At least it seems that the prize for second place in the pet contest will help cover that expense.

You go inside to get a pair of scissors, then return and open the back door to cut the bindings restraining the deer. The instant his arms are free, his hands clutch desperately at your shirt, his fingers gripping the fabric tightly as he breaks down completely, sobbing against your chest.

“Master… you saved me… again…” His voice cracks, drowned by tears and ragged breaths. “I was so scared! I didn’t want to be taken away from you!”

His grip tightens, desperate. The garage fills with his crying, and your shirt is now soaked with tears, saliva, and snot. And yet, the gesture doesn’t disgust you at all. On the contrary, it makes you feel an intoxicating warmth.

You return the embrace, holding him against you with something almost like tenderness.

“How could I not come for you?” you murmur. “You’re mine. I would never let anyone else have you.”

The deer tries to steady himself, though his eyes continue to spill tears endlessly.

“Thank you, Master… thank you so much… I owe you my life.”

“Your life already belongs to me,” you say, stroking his hair gently. “So say it. Say you’ll always stay with me. Say you’re mine.”

“I’ll always be with you, Master,” he replies, and this time there is no doubt in his voice. “You’re the only one who truly cares about me. You protect me. You’re everything I have.”

He looks up at you, eyes swollen and shining, desperate for shelter, for safety.

“I’ll be a good pet, I promise! I’ll stay with you forever. I’m yours, Master”

You smile and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“What a good pet I have, without a doubt” you say, satisfaction blooming in your chest.

“I’m a good pet,” he repeats.

“Come on. Let’s go inside. You deserve some rest after such a long day.”

Inside the house, you make sure the deer isn’t hurt. You feed him, dress him in something more comfortable, fasten the collar back around his neck, and secure the cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Then you lie down together on your bed, a movie playing quietly in the background.

Here, in the comfort of your home and with your obedient pet at your side, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

~ 1 year later ~

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🦌BASIC INFORMATION:

Full name: Elafi Fabián Delos Altamira. Nicknames: Deer boy Chimera type: White-tailed deer chimera (Odocoileus virginianus). Gender and pronouns: Male, He/Him Age: 18 at the beginning of the story. Birthday: March 9 (Pisces). MBTI: INFJ

🦌APPEARANCE:

Height: 1.70 meters / 5'6.93". His antlers add an additional 15 cm. Weight: 55 kg / 121 pounds.

Build: Elafi is a slim boy with a rectangular body type. Thin arms and legs, but still within a healthy range and appearance. He has freckles on his face and back. His hands are soft and well-proportioned.

Hair: Brown, slightly above shoulder length, slightly wavy. In the future, he would like to grow it long.

Eyes: Large, round brown eyes with long eyelashes.

Chimera traits: • He has deer ears on the sides of his head. • His legs, from the knees down, are like a deer’s, ending in a pair of cloven hooves. • He has a deer tail. • A pair of light brown bony antlers grow from his head. They shed once a year and regrow in approximately one month. I’ve never written it explicitly, but Elafi eats the velvet from his antlers when it sheds (he says it tastes slightly sweet).

Other details: His lips seem to constantly form an “uwu” expression.

🦌PERSONALITY:

Strengths: Sweet, sensitive, empathetic, curious, peaceful, idealistic. Weaknesses: Naive, crybaby, reckless, overly curious, tends to bottle up negative emotions.

Hobbies: Sleeping, reading, playing video games (like Stardew Valley or A Hero and a Garden) or classic board games (such as checkers, chess, Parcheesi, Chinese checkers, Snakes and Ladders, card games), going for walks and observing nature, practicing yoga.

🦌TRIVIA:

Favorite color: Leaf green. Favorite food: Any kind of vegetable cream or soup. Favorite things: His stuffed animals, the plants in his garden. Sexuality: Asexual.

Fun facts: He is an only child. His favorite cake flavor is carrot cake. He eats whole tomatoes like eating an apple.

Picrew 1, Picrew 2, Picrew 3, Picrew 4

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The killer stood there, indifferent. Acquitted.

Because he had money. Because he had the right connections to pressure the right people.

And Warrick?

Warrick had lost everything.

He watched the last shovelful of dirt fall over the wooden coffin that held what remained of his child—his treasure, the person he loved most in the world—burying him forever.

He saw that bastard outside afterward, smoking, eyes bloodshot—probably high again—slipping back into his life as if nothing had happened, while Warrick was breaking, while his heart and soul were torn apart and thrown into the fire until nothing remained but ashes.

“Calm down,” Patrick’s voice murmured in his head.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Verónika’s voice said, wounded, furious, as broken as he was.

“It’s not your fault,” Lupita whispered, like a balm over an open wound, trying to numb the pain.

But that damn killer was still there. Calm. At peace.

Why did he deserve peace when Warrick was living in hell?

It wasn’t fair.

His body vibrated with rage, like a spring wound too tight, ready to snap.

He didn’t think.

He strode forward and threw a punch at the murderer’s face.  

It wasn’t the first time he’d had nightmares like this.

In a way, they were a release—a violent, imaginary catharsis for all the rage, guilt, and grief he carried, so that when he woke up next morning, he could still feel like a man who hadn’t completely lost his mind.

But this time, when his fist connected, it didn’t vanish into air. His knuckles met flesh and bone.

The impact jolted him awake.

Warrick gasped and found himself in his bed, in the dark cabin, soaked in sweat. His heart pounded as he fumbled for the lamp and flooded the room with light.

Elafi was on the floor beside the bed, one hand pressed to his cheek, the skin reddened where the blow had lande. His lip was bleeding.

Warrick froze as he realized what he had just done.

He had hit him.

He had hit Elafi.

They stared at each other in silence.

Elafi’s eyes were wide, like a deer caught in headlights. His ears were flattened against his skull. His mouth was slightly open, as if he had been about to speak.

Guilt stabbed straight through Warrick’s chest.

He threw off the blanket and slid to the floor, crouching a few steps away, careful not to get too close to the teen.

“I…” His throat felt sealed shut, as if filled with concrete. No sound would come out.

Elafi watched him quietly with frightened eyes. Why did the boy suddenly look so small? So fragile? Like prey waiting for the final blow.

It hurt.

Warrick’s knuckles were numb, burning with the memory of the impact, replaying it again and again in his mind.

What have I done?

He had hurt the one person he had sworn to protect.

How could Elafi ever trust him again?

How could anyone?

“Warrick.”

The soft voice pulled him back. Elafi was looking at him calmly. There was no fear nor hatred in his gaze.

“It’s going to be okay.”

Warrick didn’t understand.

Elafi was the one bleeding. Elafi was the one in pain. He was the one who had hurt him.

So why… why was Elafi the one offering comfort?

“I’m sorry,” The man whispered at last. His voice sounded empty and hollow. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” The teen said gently. No accusation. No bitterness. Just quiet certainty.

Warrick carefully lifted his hand, then hesitated, afraid to touch the boy’s bruised skin. Elafi, for his part, didn’t pull away or flinch.

“I hurt you,” Warrick said. The words twisted in his stomach like a knife.

Elafi lowered his gaze.

“I know you didn’t mean it. You were having a nightmare. I heard you, so I came to check on you.”

Something in Warrick finally settled back into place.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, steadier now. He offered his hand to help the chimera boy up. “Come on. Let’s put some ice on that.”

They went to the kitchen.

Warrick helped Elafi onto one of the chairs, fetched the gel pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a cloth, and handed it to him. The teen pressed it to his cheek.

The man sat across from him, elbows on his knees. His leg bounced against the floor. His fingers twisted together. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Elafi’s eyes for long without feeling drowned in guilt and shame.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

There were a few seconds of silence.

“What were you dreaming about?” Elafi asked softly.

Warrick exhaled.

“Devin’s killer,” he said. “I saw him again.”

A visible shiver ran down the chimera boy’s spine.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I dream about my parents’ murderer too. Sometimes they feel so real that it’s hard to tell reality from what isn’t.”

He reached out and covered Warrick’s hand, right over the bruised knuckles.

“It’s just a nightmare.”

The fact that it was Elafi comforting Warrick, and not the other way around, made something break inside the man.

“Can I… hug you?”

Elafi nodded, and soon he was wrapped in Warrick’s strong arms. Tears slipped down the man’s face without sound, years of restrained grief finally spilling over. The teen set the ice pack aside and hugged him back, tracing slow, gentle circles on his back.

They stayed like that for a long time, until Warrick felt himself calm down again.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked, tentatively placing a hand on the boy’s cheek, cradling his face gently.

“Not much,” Elafi replied with a small smile. “It’ll heal.”

Later, they each returned to their rooms.

Warrick lay back on his bed and turned his head toward the nightstand. Devin’s photograph smiled back at him, innocent and eternal, forever printed on the paper behind the glass.

Healing would not be easy. Letting go of hatred never was.

But now, at least, he had a reason—someone—to try.

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~~~~~~~~~~~🦌🦌🦌~~~~~~~~~~~

A year has passed since you bought your first chimera child pet.

Your life has changed a lot over the past months, because being a pet owner is no easy task— especially when that pet is a chimera.

Like anything else, there have been ups and downs. You’ve learned from every experience how to be a better owner and how to properly domesticate a creature that would otherwise be nothing more than a wild animal with a human face.

Looking back on everything you’ve accomplished fills you with pride, making this first anniversary all the more important. To commemorate it, you’ve worked hard to prepare something just as special.

It isn’t a big party, just a small celebration at home, for the two of you alone—but you’ve put your whole heart into planning it.

That morning, after getting up and ready as usual, you walk over to the closet and slide the door open.

“Good morning, Elafi!” you greet cheerfully.

The deer is curled up in his dog bed, hugging his teddy bear tightly against his chest and wrapped in a fluffy blanket—a reward for good behavior, and a very effective one during these cold mornings. He blinks awake a moment later, stretching as much as he can in the cramped space before letting out a soft yawn.  

“Good morning, Master,” he murmurs, still half-asleep.

You lead him by his leash to the bathroom to get him clean up and dressed. Then you take him to the dining room for breakfast. Today, you made pancakes—a dish reserved strictly for special occasions and exceptionally good behavior. Once he’s done, you leave him tied in the garden beneath the gentle morning light while you finish the final preparations inside.

Your pet—who has no real sense of the passage of time beyond seasonal changes, daylight, and your work routine—doesn’t seem to suspect a thing. This will be a complete surprise!

When everything is ready, you return to the garden.

“Come here,” you command, calling the deer. In your hands is a blindfold.

Elafi’s ears droop the moment he sees it.

“Did I do something wrong, Master?” he asks quietly, his voice tinged with sadness.

“No, of course not,” you reply quickly. The poor thing must think you’re about to punish him. Isn’t that adorable? “On the contrary, you’ve been a very good pet. That’s why I have a surprise for you.”

Your words seem to calm him. He steps closer and allows you to place the blindfold over his eyes, then follows you blindly—quite literally—back into the house.

“Sit here,” you say, guiding him into a chair.

You can feel his tension. He knows he isn’t allowed to sit at the dining table without your explicit permission.

“Relax. Everything’s fine,” you reassure him. You step back, adjusting the camera on its tripod. “You can take the blindfold off now.”

He obeys. The click of the camera is heard. The photograph perfectly captures the expression of disbelief on the deer’s face at what he finds:

Spread across the dining table is an extravagant dessert spread: a red velvet bundt cake, a strawberry cake, and a generous assortment of cupcakes in different flavors—chocolate, cherry, and carrot.

Beside them sit several gift boxes of varying sizes, wrapped in colorful paper and topped with oversized ribbon bows.

“What… what is all this, Master?” he asks carefully.

“Happy first anniversary, my dear Elafi!” you say with a broad smile. “One year ago today, you left the black market and became my pet.”

For a brief moment, the deer’s eyes darken slightly, before settling back into a neutral expression. Did he think this might be for his birthday or something like that? How amusing. You never even bothered to ask about that. What part of his life before you matters, anyway? Only this date is important—the one that marks the beginning of your ownership.

“All of this is for you,” you add, hoping that will improve his mood. And it does, quickly. His ears perk up, and a faint sparkle returns to his eyes.

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Elafi smiles.

“Thank you so much, Master!”

“Are you hungry?” you ask. “Go ahead. You may eat.”

You allow him to start on the desserts. At first, he eats slowly, savoring each bite with care. But soon his restraint fades, and he begins devouring the cakes and cupcakes with eager enthusiasm. Frosting and sugar smear across his face, and you wipe him clean with a damp napkin.

Afterward, you move on to the gifts.

The first box contains new clothes: adorable little outfits chosen just for him. You haven’t taken him to any beauty events since, but there’s no reason he shouldn’t look cute at home.

The second gift is a collection of single-player board games. You really are thoughtful, always considering your pet’s mental stimulation and healthy development.

The final box, the smallest of them all, contains a new collar. The leather is a bright red, and hanging from it is a round golden tag engraved with your pet’s name.

“Isn’t it cute?” you say, stepping behind him. You remove the old collar, worn down by time, and replace it with the new one.

“It’s very cute, Master,” Elafi replies, brushing the tag with his fingertips. “Thank you very much for all the gifts.”

You take him to the bedroom to try on his new outfits, leaving him standing in the corner while you gather the clothes. That’s when you notice him swaying slightly, his head dipping forward.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I suddenly feel… tired,” he murmurs.

“You can rest later,” you reply.

You begin undressing and redressing him, tugging gently at his limbs to fit the clothes. Instead of helping, it only makes things worse. His face grows pale.

“I don’t feel well,” Elafi whispers, his voice strained. “My stomach hurts. I feel sick.”

That doesn’t sound good. You stop. It’s true—the deer doesn’t look well. He’s sweating now, his skin clammy. Then he swallows hard.

“I think I’m going to throw up…”

You don’t hesitate and drag him to the latrine. The moment the door opens, he collapses to his knees, retching until his stomach is completely empty.

“Too much sugar for you, my dear?” you say mildly, crouching beside him and rubbing slow circles into his back.

It’s true that you trained your pet on a fairly strict balanced diet throughout the year, nearly eliminating sugar consumption entirely. His stomach may not have been able to handle that much. You’ll keep that in mind for next time.

“I-I’m sorry, Master,” he sobs, trembling, tears spilling freely now. “I was a bad pet. I wasted the food you gave me… I deserve to be punished…”

“Yes,” you say softly, never stopping your touch. “You do.”

It took a full year to train your pet to recognize when punishment is deserved. Though such moments have become less frequent, it’s still important for him to remember his place. And since you’re feeling generous today, you won’t choose anything too severe, just enough to remind him not to waste food.

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"I hope everyone’s hungry for bacon and eggs."

It was past eleven in the morning, but no one cared about having breakfast at that hour, after all, they had all slept in.

Warrick served the plates. The dining table had never been so full; they had even dragged a wooden stool from the shed to squeeze the five bodies around the small rectangular table so they could eat comfortably.

Tigri's hair was messy, and his eyes were still squinty from sleep. Fidi had gotten up earlier and, along with Warrick, was one of the only ones who’d taken the time to shower, not just change clothes. Elafi stayed seated, his ears twitching, never taking his eyes off Tigri. It was clear he was waiting for the right moment to talk to him. At the other end of the table, Patrick tried to hide his constant yawning while sipping coffee and glancing at his phone.

After escaping the hotel the previous night, Warrick and Patrick had carried the unconscious teenagers into the cabin. The kids had woken up about half an hour later, confused and restless, apparently without clear memories of the details of their escape. Warrick gave them a summary of events, leaving out certain details he considered too disturbing and not worth mentioning just yet.

Since everyone was so exhausted, they all went to sleep almost immediately. Alarm clocks were ignored the following morning.

"I want to say something," Tigri said suddenly, putting down the utensils he had been eating with. His ears drooped, and his tail swished nervously behind the chair. "I know I barely know most of you, you just told me your names, but... I just wanted to say thank you for saving me. If you hadn’t come yesterday, I... I don’t know what would have happened to me..."

"Of course we were going to rescue you," said Fidi reassuringly.

"We weren’t going to just stand by if there was something we could do," added Elafi.

Tigri smiled. Even with the large dark circles under his eyes, his expression radiated happiness.

"Thank you so much... I owe you my life."

Patrick then handed the teenager his phone. On the screen was a photo of a Missing Person poster.

"Your family’s been looking for you all this time. My brother and I thought it was best to give you a day to rest and recover, but if you want, we can take you to them right now. We'll contact them and bring you home."

Tigri’s eyes stayed fixed on the phone screen for several long seconds. After a moment, they began to water.

"T-thank you so much," he said, wiping away tears with one hand. "But... I think I'll stay today to rest. I'm not... I'm not ready yet... for them to see me like this."

Although he didn’t elaborate, it was clear what he meant. Tigri looked very different from before his captivity. He had lost muscle mass, his claws were dirty and stained with traces of dried blood; his curls had lost definition, long and tangled; the skin around his neck, wrists, and ankles was irritated and bruised, and even some facial hair had started to grow. It was clear he wasn't in the best of shapes.

"We understand," Warrick assured him. "You can stay as long as you need. When you're ready, we’ll take you home."

The rest of the day passed without major worries. Patrick either slept or spent time on his phone, Warrick focused on the regular chores around the cabin, and the three chimeras spent hours talking at the dining table, catching up from the moment Fidi and Tigri were separated during their escape attempt.

"You bit Madame Lavenza?" Tigri leaned forward, his golden eyes shining. "Wow... You’re seriously amazing, Fidi, I admire you! By the way, your new haircut is awesome. Makes you look way more badass."

Tigri was a cheerful, talkative boy, with loud laughter and a sweet gaze. He and Elafi quickly bonded and slipped easily into a lively conversation, talking and laughing like old friends.

"Hey, not to be nosy, but your dad is super hot," Tigri commented at one point as they watched Warrick chopping wood in the yard through the window. The man had taken off his shirt, revealing a tank top and his muscular arms. "Totally my type."

"He's not actually my dad," Elafi replied, although his tone sounded a bit unsure, as if he himself doubted it.

"He's way too old for you," Fidi teased. "Besides, he already has a girlfriend, even if he won’t admit it."

By evening, Tigri told Patrick he was ready to return to the city the next day. Patrick wasted no time contacting Tigri’s family using one of the numbers listed on the missing person poster. Tigri’s mother answered the call, and although she initially seemed suspicious, the sound of Tigri’s voice on the other end of the line was enough to make her realize the miracle they had been praying for had finally come true.

The tiger boy couldn’t help crying during the video call with his mother. The others had moved to a different part of the cabin to give him privacy in the living room. Elafi and Fidi headed to the deer boy’s bedroom.

"I admit I feel a little jealous," Fidi said quietly. "If I ever reunited with my parents... I'm sure they wouldn’t react like that. They might even be angry to see me again, like a curse coming back after they thought they had gotten rid of it. But I'm really happy for Tigri. This is something he’s been wishing for a long time. He deserves to go back to his life, to a family that loves him."

"I know you’ll find people who love and care for you too," Elafi replied. "I still miss my parents a lot, but Warrick has helped me not to feel so alone. And you’ve helped me too. You're my friend, Fidi. We'll be there for you whenever you need us."

The snake girl gave him a small smile.

"Thank you, Elafi." She let out a sigh. "I still don't know what I’ll do with my life after... all this. I never had dreams or wishes beyond not ending up dead, homeless, or in the black market. But I know whatever I do, this time it’ll be on my own terms. I’ll find my own path."

"I know you will."

The next day, Warrick, Patrick, Elafi, Fidi, and Tigri set out for the city. During the couple of hours the trip lasted, anxiety hung thick in the air. Tigri felt his palms sweating and the fur on his tail standing on end.

"Is it bad if I say I’m nervous?" he asked quietly from the back of the pickup, where he rode with Fidi and Elafi.

"It’s normal to be nervous," Fidi replied. "You haven’t seen your family in months... but I’m sure everything will turn out fine."

"I’m a little... scared, you know? So much time has passed... and so many things have happened..."

Tigri instinctively touched his neck, where Madame Lavenza’s metal collar used to be.

"They’ve been waiting for you," Elafi said. "You being back is what matters most. It doesn’t matter if you look or feel a little different. You’re still Tigri."

Tigri threw his arms around the other chimeras and hugged them tightly.

"You guys are the best."

Once in the city, it didn’t take long to find Tigri’s family home. After parking in front, Warrick got out and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, a dark-skinned woman with long curls tied up in a high bun came out of the house. She eyed Warrick a bit suspiciously, but the moment her gaze fell on Tigri, standing a few meters behind him, her expression completely changed.

"H-hi, Mom," Tigri said shyly. "I-I'm back."

"My baby!" the woman cried, running to her son and wrapping him in her plump arms. Tigri hugged her back, tears immediately pouring from his eyes. Before long, a little girl with wild hair peeked out from the door.

"Big Bro!" she shouted, joining the hug. "I knew you’d come back!"

Tigri easily lifted the little girl in his arms.

"Zuri! I missed you so much! Are you taller now?"

The last to leave the house was a tall man wearing glasses. His stern eyes quickly softened as he rushed to pull his son into a tight hug, drawing soothing circles on his back.

"I have no words to thank you for what you've done for this family," Tigri’s father said after pulling away from the rest of his family, shaking Warrick’s hand warmly. "What… what can we do to repay you for what you've done?"

"You owe us nothing, sir..."

"Raj. My wife Amara and my little daughter Zuri."

"You don't have to repay us anything," Warrick explained calmly. "We just did what we believed was right."

Despite Warrick’s words, Tigri’s family insisted they stay for dinner. Except for Patrick, who had to leave because he had work the next day, no one objected. They squeezed into the dining room as best they could and ate spaghetti and meatballs.

Tigri’s family was just as cheerful and talkative as he was. During dinner, they chatted about happy and funny things, filling the house with an atmosphere almost like a celebration. Zuri, Tigri’s younger sister, was the most excited of all, openly and enchantedly watching the newly arrived chimeras. Elafi allowed her to touch his antlers, and Fidi drew little animal sketches for her on a paper napkin.

When the clock struck a late hour, Warrick announced it was time to leave.

"Do you have a place to stay, Fidi?" Tigri asked the snake girl. "My offer still stands—you can stay here. Mom, can Fidi stay?"

The woman smiled.

"Well, we could set up the inflatable mattress in Zuri’s room, of course, if she agrees…"

"Of course!" the little girl exclaimed, slapping her hands on the wooden table. "She's just like Tigri, she’s cool, she has fangs and a weird tongue and she draws really well!" Zuri grabbed Fidi’s hand, admiring her pearly scales, and began shaking it. "Stay, stay, stay, stay, pleaaase, pleaaase, pleaaaaase!"

"It’s up to you," Warrick said, placing a hand on the snake girl's shoulder. "You're always welcome at the cabin, but it's fine if you want to stay here in the city. Elafi and I could come visit you from time to time."

Fidi stayed silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on her hands in her lap. Her forked tongue briefly flicked out between her lips, a sign that she was deep in thought. After a few seconds, she looked up.

"If it’s alright… I would like to stay."

No one objected.

~

Fidi moved in with Tigri’s family while she, in her own words, "got what she needed to start her own life." Considering she had been locked away in Madame Lavenza’s mansion for ten years, had never finished school, and had certainly never gone to college, it would be a tough road—but not an impossible one.

Tigri reapplied for his scholarship so he could return to university the following semester, and reunited with his friend Joshi, who almost broke into tears upon seeing his best friend again. Zuri, for her part, was delighted to have a "new Big Sis" at home—someone she could finally talk to about "girl things" like fashion and social revolution. She also often demanded that her "deer friend" come visit, so it became common to see Warrick and Elafi come over on weekends for lunch with the family.

Elafi continued living with Warrick in the cabin in the woods. Though they had offered, the deer boy admitted he wasn’t interested in moving back to the city. Still, thanks to Tigri’s family’s support, he began visiting the town and city more often, despite Warrick’s lingering distrust of taking the chimera boy to crowded places.

Patrick also began visiting them at the cabin with some regularity, and they often held movie and popcorn nights in the living room.

Life started to feel new and wonderful, as if everything had finally settled after a long storm. Everything was falling into place.

However, there was still something lingering inside Elafi, a slippery idea at the back of his mind, like a dark satellite orbiting his thoughts without rest.

"Warrick," he said one day. "I need to tell you something important."

The man looked up from his phone, where he had been reading the morning news. The way Elafi’s ears moved told him this was serious.

"Go ahead," Warrick replied calmly.

"I... I need you to help me find out where I come from."

Warrick stayed silent, so the teenager continued:

"Do you remember that time Lupita told us I was different from other chimeras? That being born a chimera child made me different from the rest? Well… I need to find out why. I need to know why I was born like this. What my parents never told me. Why I... why I can do the things I can..."

Warrick opened his mouth to speak, but Elafi interrupted him, his voice strained.

"I’m not just talking about dreams and plants. The day we saved Tigri… I lied when I said I didn’t remember what happened. Fidi and Tigri didn’t attack those guards because they wanted to defend themselves. I ordered them to. I don’t know how I did it, but I know it was me. I was the one who told Fidi to attack those hunters back when we were captured in the woods. I made my friends attack those guards at the hotel and ki..."

Elafi pressed his lips together. His face was full of anguish, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes brimming with tears.

"I need to know what I am," he whispered.

Warrick stood up and gently placed both hands on the teenager’s shoulders.

"Hey, hey, breath. You’re a good kid," he said. "I understand your doubts, but never forget: you are a good person. You’ve never hurt anyone out of malice. I'm sure that one day you'll fully master your abilities. You’re not a monster—you’re just a scared boy trying to live."

Elafi immediately threw himself into Warrick’s arms, letting a few tears fall.

"Thank you, Warrick," he mumbled against his chest.

"You’re welcome, son," the man replied, hugging him back and stroking his hair. "Have you thought about how to... investigate?"

Elafi stepped back and wiped his face with his hands.

"I’ve been avoiding this out of fear, but I can't run anymore. I think… it’s time to reach out to someone from my biological family."

~~~

Roach was standing in front of the mirror.

He hated looking at himself.

He ran his fingertips over the many scars scattered across his abdomen, chest, and sides. The skin formed small lumps and thin lines over his body, reminders of what had been there, of every scream, insult, and blow he'd endured, filling him with disgust.

Disgust and fury.

"Fucking chimeras," he muttered.

He pulled on a high-collared shirt, threw on his lab coat, and set his dark goggles back over his eyes.

At the office, everything was normal and boring. His lab work for the day was done, and the silence was overwhelming without the constant screams and whimpers of his victims—or rather, his "patients."

He was typing up some reports on his computer when he suddenly received an email. It was a forwarded message from his secretary.

"Figured you’d want to see this," the woman wrote.

Roach opened the email and read it.

Every line, every paragraph made a slow, wicked smile spread across his face.

Finally, some good news.

"This is interesting," he said to himself, rocking back and forth in his chair. "Looks like someone just got me a new toy to play with..."

End of Season One.

To be continued…

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba @morning-star-whump @lancedoncrimsonwings @3-2-whump. @whumped-by-glitter @string-of-broken-hearts @alyscat @oddsconvert @what-if-i-just-did @bacillusinfection @writinglittlepains @washing---machine @bilightningwhumper @enasolos @inhurtandincomfort

Finally!!! The first season of Chimeras has come to an end!!! I can't contain my excitement qwq. This little project, which started back in August 2024 as just an excuse to join the whump community and write some whump content, turned into a story that has earned a very special place in my heart. Diving deeper into the plot and creating characters became something that brought me so much joy and fun, and writing this story has been a process I've truly loved.

I'm so grateful to ALL the readers, to everyone who comments, reblogs, asks questions, and follows my OCs. Your support has truly kept this project going strong 💜.

I have so many ideas to continue expanding the Chimeras universe, so many things I would love to explore and discover. I don't know when I'll be able to write a second season, since there's a lot I need to think through, plan, and organize; but rest assured that in the coming months there will be some one-shots, as well as extra and special chapters for Chimeras, because I just can't say goodbye to these characters yet.

So if you have ideas on how to torture my OCs, don't hesitate to share them!!! Maybe I'll have a chance to write something about it ;)

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who read all the way here. I really hope we can keep sharing stories together.

With much love,

Without opening his eyes, Elafi turned in bed and hugged his deer plush. His body felt numb and heavy. He swallowed and felt a sharp pain at the back of his throat. His head throbbed, clouded as if stuffed with damp cotton. In short, he felt unwell. Could it be because winter was getting closer? The first rains had already begun, and the early mornings were growing colder and colder.

"Feeling bad can’t be an excuse not to help around the house," he thought, forcing himself to gather strength and get up.

He bathed and dressed slowly. He felt like a zombie, like he was in some kind of trance. His stomach growled, hollow and insistent after the long night, but the idea of eating made his insides churn. He sniffed, feeling congested. Why did his body ache so much? Why was he so cold, even now?

In the kitchen, he found Warrick making breakfast.

"Good morning," the man greeted, briefly lifting his gaze from the pan with eggs and ham.

"Good morning," Elafi replied. His throat burned when he spoke, so he stood to pour himself a glass of water before sitting down in a chair at the table.

"Are you okay?" Warrick asked him.

"I think I feel tired," Elafi said, downplaying it.

"Couldn’t you sleep or did you have a nightmare?" the man insisted, serving the plates with food and two steaming cups, one of black coffee and the other of hot chocolate.

"No," the boy murmured, suddenly feeling ashamed. What was he complaining about so much? He was fine, just tired. "Maybe I’m still tired from yesterday’s training."

Warrick chewed a bit of breakfast and swallowed.

"Well, you’ll have to get used to it, because today we’re continuing."

As part of the routine Warrick had imposed on Elafi was exercising and practicing a bit of self-defense. Elafi had not shown any talent for either of the two so far, but the man insisted it would bring him good results, physically and mentally, over time.

After breakfast they worked all morning in the garden and the orchard. Even when that was Elafi’s favorite part of the day, the deer boy felt he couldn’t enjoy it fully, since he was getting tired too quickly and his throat hurt more and more. He coughed, the sound rough, which only made the pain spike sharper.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Warrick asked, while throwing him that suspicious look.

"Yes, I’ll just go get some water," Elafi replied, standing up and hurrying to the kitchen. He drank more water and stayed there for a while, leaning on the wooden counter to catch his breath. A violent chill ran through his entire body, making him shiver.

Elafi was aware that he wasn’t well, but the mere idea of worrying Warrick stopped him from speaking. How many problems had he already caused the poor man in the past just to worry him because he didn’t feel well? He was supposed to have promised to strive to become stronger, to survive, to stop being the prey. He took a deep breath, ignoring the growing discomfort, and went back outside.

Around ten in the morning they took a break.

"Ready to train?" Warrick asked.

Elafi nodded, without saying a word. The truth was that he wasn’t ready and didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

The first thing they did, as was already the routine, were stretches and a basic warm-up. Elafi was panting after a few minutes, his breath shallow and uneven, but he attributed it to the sun and his lack of physical endurance.

That day it was weights. Warrick had bought at the supermarket a pair of five-pound dumbbells for Elafi, who had to do three sets of twelve each. He hadn’t even reached halfway through the first set when the deer boy felt he couldn’t go on. His body trembled uncontrollably, he didn’t know if from overexertion or from the relentless chills. Nausea twisted his stomach and his vision wavered.

The weights slipped from his weak fingers and hit the ground with a loud crash. His hooves barely stayed firm, making him stagger. He thought he heard Warrick’s voice calling him, distant and distorted, his blurred silhouette rushing toward him. He was freezing, and even breathing scraped painfully against his throat. His head pounded, as if something were striking him again and again in the same spot between his brows.

He didn’t realize when his knees gave out and he collapsed downward, nor when he hit the ground. His vision was swallowed by complete darkness, and then there was nothing.

~~~

Warrick suspected something was wrong with Elafi from the moment he saw him having breakfast. He was too quiet and still, his ears drooping at the sides of his head, his movements slow and off. When he asked, he didn’t get any satisfactory answer, but he also knew that pressing the boy was pointless: he would shut himself like an airtight chest. So he let it go.

The rest of the morning passed with relative normality. When it was time for training, Warrick handed Elafi the dumbbells and instructed him on how to properly perform the exercise and how many repetitions to do. Usually, when it came to basic exercises like this one, the man left the boy on his own while he took the opportunity to do other chores. However, this time he had barely turned halfway when he heard the dumbbells hitting the ground. He turned around quickly and saw Elafi panting and staggering, his whole body shaking. He called him, worried, without getting a response. He hadn’t even reached him when the boy’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

"Elafi!" Warrick shouted, dropping to his knees beside him.

That was when he noticed it: the heat radiating from the boy’s body. He placed a hand on his sweaty forehead. He was burning up.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, as he picked him up in his arms and carried him inside, feeling how limp he was.

He moved aside the sheets and plushies and laid Elafi on his bed, making sure to raise his legs a little to improve blood flow. By then, the deer boy already seemed to be starting to regain consciousness, as he let out a weak groan.

"W-what...?"

"Stay lying down," Warrick instructed, before running to the kitchen for a damp cloth. When he returned, he carefully placed it on Elafi’s forehead, who was shivering despite the fever. He let out a tired sigh. "What happened now?"

Elafi’s lower lip trembled. Warrick no longer knew if it was due to embarrassment, the fever, or both.

"I’m sorry... I don’t feel very..."

He was interrupted by a sneeze, followed by a fit of dry coughing that bent his body slightly.

"No, you’re definitely not okay," Warrick said, getting up to grab the pickup keys. "Get ready, we’re going to town."

But Elafi could barely move. Warrick helped him put on his boots, a mask for his nose and mouth, and wrapped him in a clean sheet, before guiding him to the vehicle parked in front of the cabin. Unfortunately, today he wouldn’t be able to do anything to hide those sharp antlers.

They drove in silence. They parked and then hurried to the nearest health unit. The looks in the Emergency room never disappeared—looks of disgust, discomfort, or simple curiosity at best—but Warrick ignored them all. Elafi wouldn’t stop coughing and sneezing, his breaths uneven.

They saw the doctor on duty, and after an examination and a bit more waiting, the diagnosis was given.

"It’s the flu."

Warrick let out a sigh, tension leaving his shoulders. At least it wasn’t something worse.

Just a week ago Warrick had come down with the flu. Lupita and Elafi had been taking care of him during that time; but even so, his symptoms hadn’t been as severe as the boy’s, who looked like he might pass out again at any moment, pale and glassy-eyed.

They returned home. Warrick gave Elafi a glass of water and a paracetamol tablet.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were coming down with something?" Warrick asked, helping him settle into his bed, more gently than his tone suggested. He wouldn’t deny that he felt a bit guilty for being partly the reason the boy had ended up sick, but he was also going to play the scolding father card when something as serious as that was hidden from him.

"I didn’t know," Elafi replied in a thin voice, wrapping himself in the blanket. "I just knew I felt bad, but I didn’t think it was something this serious... I had never had the flu before."

Warrick wanted to say something, but held it back. Sometimes he forgot that Elafi had lived eighteen years inside a bubble, metaphorical, but sometimes it almost seemed literal.

"Well, I’ll go prepare something for lunch," he said, choosing instead to let him rest for a while. Elafi responded with a tired nod. He was trying to fall asleep when Warrick returned, holding a deer plush. "I put your plushies and bedding to wash. But I brought you this one. I already sprayed it with disinfectant."

Elafi’s watery eyes lit up for a moment as he took the plush and hugged it weakly against his chest.

"Thank you," he said with a faint smile.

Warrick ruffled his hair.

"So grown and still with plushies," he commented, trying to lighten the mood.

"They were the only friends I had before I met Fidi and Tigri," the boy said, his voice barely above a whisper as he closed his eyes.

Warrick said nothing else. He ran his hand once more through Elafi’s hair and went back to the kitchen. Many memories flooded his mind at that moment. When Devin used to get sick, he could rarely be by his side, except at night after work. Now it wouldn’t be like that. He prepared chicken soup and helped Elafi get to the dining table. He told him to drink plenty of water and to call him if he needed anything. After helping him lie down again, he continued doing the chores, and once he was free, he returned to the boy’s room.

Even if it was just to keep him company while he slept, Warrick felt a quiet sense of purpose. He knew Elafi would get better soon with proper care, and he was more than willing to be the one to fulfill that role.

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba @morning-star-whump @lancedoncrimsonwings @3-2-whump @whumped-by-glitter

@string-of-broken-hearts @oddsconvert @what-if-i-just-did @bacillusinfection

@writinglittlepains @washing---machine @enasolos @inhurtandincomfort @cepheusgalaxy