Hybrids were.. surprisingly common.

But not unicorns. They were rare, mythical creatures described since antiquity as a beast with a single large, pointed, spiraling horn projecting from their foreheads. Cutting one’s horn off meant you were rich. A powerful, deadly figure in the hunting industry.

Which was why they were practically nonexistent. Seen as nothing more than a moneybag to the world. Shunned for their beauty.

They were seen as.. outcasts.

So it utterly surprised you when Simon finally felt comfortable enough to show himself. To trust you with the one thing he was terrified to utter to a single soul.

The lieutenant rested his head against your shoulder, watching utter curiosity take over as you ran both hands down the mangled mess of his back. It was.. surprisingly fluffy. And his fur felt utterly lovely between your fingers.

“Oh Simon..” you muttered, splaying a hand across his back, “what has the world done to you?”