Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 90: Do NOT touch edited

They stood near Felicity now, and Felicity, still confused and overwhelmed by the emotional whiplash, instinctively drifted toward them.

She pouted slightly as she pressed closer to Voss’s side, one hand curling around his forearm, eyes big and plaintive.

"They bullied me," she said softly, voice full of wounded confusion.

Damien’s mouth curved. "You liked it."

Felicity’s head snapped toward him, scandalized. "Damien."

Victor’s voice was calm and merciless. "Yeah. You asked."

Felicity’s cheeks went bright red.

She made a small sound of pure embarrassment and immediately tried to hide, turning and pressing her face into Voss’s chest like Voss was a wall she could vanish into.

"Save meeee," she whined, muffled against him.

Voss’s arm came around her without thinking, holding her close with that quiet solidity that always steadied her.

Ivan leaned in slightly, voice soft but amused. "Poor little sun."

Felicity’s blush deepened.

Snow Team collectively made noises of suffering.

Marx’s eyes glazed over a little like he was having a spiritual crisis. Sam stared upward as if praying for strength. Kai’s lips parted slightly, then he closed them firmly, like he was physically shutting down a thought. Ash rubbed his face. Pope whispered something reverent under his breath and immediately got elbowed by Sarge.

Shadow and Draco did not know what to do with any of it. Draco stared at a wall like the wall had become the safest thing in the world to look at.

Shadow stared at bricks and, for one long second, genuinely considered whether they were real, because the scene in front of him felt like something from a world that shouldn’t exist in the apocalypse.

Felicity hiding in Voss’s arms, Victor casually admitting she’d asked for something that made her blush like a teenager, Damien smug and pleased, Ivan calling her sun like it was nothing, the camp laughing and suffering and trying not to lose their minds, and Emma standing there watching it all with a perfect broken expression.

Emma’s face crumpled.

Not convincingly for Shadow.

Not convincingly for Draco.

But convincingly enough for someone who wanted to be convinced.

Tears slid down her cheeks.

Her voice shook. "Felicity... please. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just... I want to belong."

Felicity lifted her head from Voss’s chest and blinked at Emma, still confused, still trying to understand how everything had turned into a mess so quickly. She looked like she wanted to make it better, because Felicity always wanted to make it better.

Sarge saw that instinct in her eyes and sighed, aggrieved.

Marx sighed too, equally aggrieved but for different reasons.

Sarge muttered, "Tommy gets hugged and Emma gets sympathy."

Marx muttered back, "We get nothing."

Sarge shot him a look. "You would make it weird."

Marx whispered, "It’s already weird."

Tommy, still sniffling and wiping his face, looked up at Felicity again with watery eyes like a puppy who had been mildly scolded.

Damien’s tail tightened around him immediately, as if reading the thought before Tommy formed it.

Tommy squeaked. "I’m not going to touch her."

Victor’s gaze flicked toward him. "Good."

Tommy sniffed again. "I’m going to look at the ground forever."

Colt laughed. Casper’s mouth twitched. Rowan murmured something that sounded like "tragic."

Josh chose that moment to lunge toward Legend again, because apparently his morning goal was to fight anyone who refused to participate in his drama.

Sarge moved without turning his head.

He simply lifted one hand and pointed. "Pope."

Pope moved like he’d been waiting all morning for a righteous mission.

He stepped in and caught Josh by the collar with a grip that did not match his gentle eyes. He yanked Josh backward hard enough that Josh stumbled.

"Peace," Pope said calmly, as if it were a command.

Josh snarled. "Get off me."

Pope didn’t even blink. "No."

Legend stared at them like he was watching animals at a zoo.

Robert took the opportunity to creep toward the shrine again, sticks still clutched in his hands, eyes fixed on the stone stack.

Pope saw him and smacked him with his free hand without looking. "No."

Robert yelped. "Why."

Ash smacked him too. Kai smacked him too.

Robert hissed. "Stop hitting me."

Ash snapped, "Stop trying to eat religion."

Felicity blinked, overwhelmed, then pressed back into Voss’s side again like she was trying to anchor herself to a physical object.

"I hate mornings," she whispered.

Damien’s voice was low and pleased. "You don’t."

Felicity’s voice muffled against Voss again. "I do today."

Ivan’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder, steady and gentle. "We’ll move soon. Fresh air. Less chaos."

Victor’s wing brushed her back, protective. "No more talking. No more touching. We move."

Emma’s tears continued.

Josh continued raging.

Robert continued hunting sticks.

Shadow and Draco continued standing with Snow Team, stunned by the domestic madness of it all, by how quickly Felicity pulled the whole camp’s emotions into orbit around her without meaning to, by how obvious it was that the men around her would do anything she asked and several things she didn’t.

Then Felicity finally lifted her head again and looked at everyone, eyes wide and earnest and still so painfully confused.

"Can someone," she asked softly, "just tell me what I missed."

The entire camp went quiet for half a second.

Marx opened his mouth.

Sarge pointed at him. "No."

Marx closed it.

Sam coughed. Kai stared at the sky. Ash rubbed his face. Pope clasped his hands and looked like he was about to burst with religious metaphor.

Shadow stared at bricks again.

Draco stared at the wall harder.

Emma sniffled innocently, tears glistening like diamonds.

And Voss, steady and calm, simply held Felicity closer while Ivan’s hand stayed on her shoulder like a promise, while Victor and Damien stood like the two sharp edges of a blade, ready to cut away anything that came too close, including a crying Tommy and a perfect red panda with crocodile tears.

The noise died down gradually, not because the camp resolved anything, but because the emotional spike had burned itself out.

Smoke still curled between ruined buildings. Embers drifted through the air like dying stars. Somewhere in the distance, something metallic collapsed with a hollow echo.

And in the middle of it all, Felicity stood pressed between Voss and Ivan like she belonged nowhere else.

One of her hands was wrapped around Voss’s forearm. The other rested against Ivan’s chest, fingers curled lightly in the fabric like she needed proof he was still there.

Tommy sniffled again.

The sound was small.

But it was enough.

Felicity’s head lifted immediately.

"Tommy," she said softly.

He looked at her with red eyes and wounded pride. "I didn’t mean to make it dramatic."

"You didn’t," she replied instantly.

There was no hesitation.

Emma’s lashes fluttered faintly.

Tommy swallowed. "She touched me. I don’t like being touched."

Felicity’s brows pulled together, not angry, not suspicious, just deeply earnest.

"She shouldn’t have," she said simply.

Emma inhaled sharply. "I was just trying to-"

Felicity turned toward her, still half shielded by Voss’s arm, still anchored by Ivan’s warmth behind her.

Her voice was gentle.

But firm.

"I believe Tommy."

The air froze around her words.

Her voice carried no judgment.

No anger.

Only truth.

Snow Team turned to stone.

Tommy blinked, almost startled by how fast she said it.

Emma’s expression faltered for a fraction of a second.

"I didn’t mean it like that," Emma said quickly. "I was just trying to comfort him."

Felicity nodded faintly.

"I know you weren’t trying to hurt him," she said. "But he said he didn’t like it. So that’s enough."

She shifted slightly, pressing closer to Voss as if drawing strength from the contact, Her fingers tightened around his arm.

"Tommy doesn’t lie to me."

Tommy made a small choking sound that was half relief and half overwhelmed devotion.

Marx muttered under his breath, "She just chose violence politely."

Sarge elbowed him again.

Emma swallowed.

"I didn’t realize," she said carefully.

"That’s okay," Felicity answered. "Now you know."

Her voice stayed soft.

But something had changed in the air.

Snow Team were not her mates.

But they were hers.

Not owned.

She had chosen them.

She looked around at them, eyes moving from Tommy to Sarge to Marx to Sam to Kai and even to Shadow and Draco.

"They’re mine," Felicity said quietly.

It was not possessive in the way the word should have been. It sounded like someone claiming a seat at a table. Like someone counting heads before crossing a street.

Voss’s jaw tightened faintly.

Ivan’s hand slid more securely around her waist.

Victor’s wing shifted, subtle and instinctive.

Damien smiled slowly, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

Felicity did not notice the shift in air pressure around her. She was looking at Emma with open confusion, not rivalry.

"I don’t share them," she added.

Emma blinked. "Share?"

Felicity nodded once, earnest. "I don’t share them," she repeated, as if the concept was obvious. "No one else touches them like that."

Her cheeks pinked faintly, but not from jealousy. From awkwardness. From embarrassment at having to spell out something that felt like basic manners.

"I don’t even touch them like that unless they’re okay with it," she continued honestly. "So if Tommy said no, then it’s no."

Tommy nodded so hard his neck almost snapped.

Marx stared at her like she had just rewritten the laws of gravity.

Emma’s voice trembled. "I didn’t think—"

"It’s not about thinking," Felicity interrupted gently.

She took a small step forward but did not step out of Voss’s hold. Her fingers stayed hooked in his sleeve. She did not seem to realize she was still anchored.

"You don’t test boundaries just to see where they are," she said softly.

Snow Team straightened without meaning to.

Even Shadow’s posture sharpened.

Emma’s tears gathered again. "I just want to belong."

Felicity’s expression softened immediately.

"You can," she said. "But not like that."

She tilted her head slightly, genuinely puzzled that it required explanation.

"You can sit with us. Eat with us. Train with us. Laugh with us."

Her hand squeezed Voss’s arm unconsciously.

"But you don’t touch them."

Victor watched Emma’s face.

Emma looked at Victor.

Her gaze lingered.

But it measured.

Voss felt it.

His fingers tightened at Felicity’s waist. Not enough to bruise. Enough to mark contact.

Ivan’s thumb stilled against her hip.

Victor’s shoulders squared, feathers shifting with a quiet brush of sound.

Damien’s tail slid lazily behind him, but the tip flicked once.

Emma lifted her chin slightly. "I wasn’t trying to take anyone."

The word take sat wrong in the air.

Felicity’s brows drew together. "Take?"

Emma’s eyes flicked back to Tommy. "He’s not owned."

The word landed sharp.

Sarge’s jaw locked.

Marx’s hands curled loosely at his sides.

Kai went completely still.

Felicity blinked, processing.

"No one said owned," she answered quietly.

Her fingers tightened around Voss’s arm. Not possessive. Not territorial. Just reflex.

"They’re my friends."

The word shifted the temperature.

Victor’s head tilted almost imperceptibly.

Ivan looked down at her, eyes unreadable.

Damien’s smile faded by a fraction.

Voss did not move at all.

Emma repeated it softly. "Friends."

"Yes." Felicity nodded once, certain. "My friends."

She looked up at Voss as she said it, like she was checking for agreement, like she had used the correct label for a complicated situation.

Voss held her gaze.

His jaw flexed once.

Something tightened behind his eyes. Not anger. Not quite hurt. Something contained.

Victor inhaled through his nose, controlled, measured.

Draco watched the entire exchange like someone watching a bridge take weight it was not built for.

"So you don’t claim them?" Emma asked softly.

The word claim was deliberate.

Snow Team’s attention sharpened in unison.

Felicity blinked again. "Claim?"

Emma shrugged lightly. "You said they’re yours."

Felicity opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Her fingers tightened around Voss’s arm again, and this time Voss felt it in his ribs.

She was thinking.

"I just meant," she said slowly, carefully, "that they’re my team."

The correction slipped out naturally.

"My teammates," she clarified, firmer now. "My people. We’ve been through things together."

She glanced around at Snow Team, and there was no heat in her eyes. No hunger. No ownership.

Just loyalty.

"We survive together," she continued. "We train together. We watch each other’s backs. That’s it."

That’s it.

The words were simple.

Ivan’s fingers flexed against her spine.

Victor’s jaw tightened hard enough that the muscle ticked visibly.

Damien’s gaze flattened.

Tommy shifted forward without meaning to.

Sarge’s hand shot out and caught his shoulder, holding him back.

Firmly.

Victor’s wing edged forward slightly, creating space around Felicity that no one had consciously agreed to create.

Ivan angled his body behind her more fully.

Damien took one small step closer to her side.

Felicity did not notice the formation.

She was still looking at Emma.

"So if someone else wanted to get close," Emma asked gently, "you wouldn’t mind?"

The question slid under Felicity’s skin.

She hesitated.

It was not dramatic.

It was not loud.

It was a fraction too long.

Snow Team saw it.

Voss felt it in the change of her breathing. Slightly shorter. Slightly quicker.

Ivan’s thumb pressed more firmly into her back.

Victor’s eyes sharpened.

Damien’s shoulders went still.

"They can make their own choices," Felicity said carefully.

She meant it.

She believed it.

"They’re not mine like that," she added, almost impatiently. "They’re not property. They’re not something to win."

The word win hit harder than she realized.

Voss’s arm did not loosen but it did not tighten either.

Ivan’s breath brushed the back of her neck.

Victor stopped looking at her and focused fully on Emma.

Emma smiled faintly. Not kind. Not cruel. Curious.

"But you’re not their mate," Emma said softly.