#hazelnut chatters

[hazelnootnut]

Hey guys! I'll be taking a whole month off in December because as you might have guessed (or looked through my tags regularly), I'm currently working on another animatic! Go figure, I keep coming up with one per year!

As such, I kind of want to focus on it so that I have the buffer time to refine it and upload it. But I'll still be working on other things too, of course; I'm not gonna abandon the ISAT TCSS AU (which all of you really love, thank you!) and I have other art pieces I wanna work on (like the Elevator Hitch series)! I'll be working quietly in the background is all.

I'll be back in January, hopefully with more progress on the animatic and a whole lot of backlog to post! And perhaps, a bit of renovation here and there on the blog.

Don't miss me too much, okay? See you next year!

[inkykeiji]

it was such a winter wonderland yesterday!!! (∗˃̶ ᵕ ˂̶∗) ⋆⊹₊ ⋆

it’s still snowing today, too, but it’s quite grey out, which makes me feel soooo cozy n sleepy hehe <3 i just love seeing the early morning winter sun rise over freshly fallen snow, it’s so breathtaking!! everything is still and soft and so sparkly <3

[theyovngveins]

making babka today👨‍🍳

[joowee-feftynn]

humans love sugary foods and honestly? good for them that stuff goes hard

[miraclerat]

HazelnutMongoose -> MiracleRat

[kbwrites]

Up In the Clouds Ch.4

synopsis: you're friends arguing reaches a breaking point... for you. what will you do when you find out the real reason they've been fighting?

prev ← → next

⚝content: sugusato x f!reader, sfw, satosugu arguing, but they're arguing over youuuu

⚝wc: 1.4k

Suguru and Satoru always fought. From the year you’d known the duo, that much was obvious. Petty arguments and stupid disagreements were rampant in your trio. But, at the end of the day—usually forced by you—they would make up. Today, however, there was a disquieting air around them, an unfamiliar tension that gnawed at your peace of mind.

You three were in the courtyard for lunch, a place usually filled with the sounds of your laughter. You and Suguru ate bentos while Satoru dug into a sugary donut.

But something was... different.

No annoying quips from Satoru.

No heavy sighs from Suguru.

Just complete and utter… silence.

The courtyard, bathed in the soft afternoon light, felt oddly still. The rustling of leaves and distant chatter of other students did nothing to alleviate the growing unease. You shifted in your seat, the silence pressing down on you like a weight.

“Did Yaga yell at you two or something?”

Suguru glanced up, his hazelnut-colored eyes narrowing as he finally spoke. “No… it’s not that.”

Satoru  scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically behind his dark sunglasses. “Yaga yelling would be wayy easier to deal with than Mr. Perfect.”

The raven-haired teen’s jaw clenched. “Oh, I’m Mr. Perfect now? That’s rich coming from someone who thinks they know everything,  Satoru.”

“At least I don’t try to control every little thing” Satoru shot back, his words muffled by the mouthful of donut. ”Not everything has to be done your way, Suguru.”

“Maybe if you used your head a bit more, we wouldn’t end up in half the messes we do,” Suguru retorted, his tone icy.

You sighed, feeling like a mediator between two stubborn children.

“Guys, seriously, what’s going on? This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is Suguru thinking he can tell me what to do.” Satoru snapped, his voice tinged with frustration.

Finally, you’d had enough. The frustration and tension had reached a breaking point. Without saying a word, you stood up, grabbed your lunch, and turned to leave. The soft thud of your bento box as you placed it into your bag seemed to echo in the silence that followed.

Satoru’s blue eyes widened as he noticed you standing. “Wait, where are you going?”

Suguru’s head snapped towards you, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. “What—?”

But you were already walking away, your footsteps brisk and determined.

“Great, just great! Now ya made her leave because you’re too scared to tell her the truth!”

Suguru’s face flushed with anger. “Me? You’re the one who turned this into a contest and made it impossible for me to even tell her how I feel!”

Satoru shot a glare at his best friend, his voice laced with bitter irritation.

 “Well… I don’t care!”

A week. Seven long days without your best friends. They avoided each other entirely, which was pretty hard to do considering how small the school was.

The hallways almost fell deafening silent without the pair’s obnoxious laughter echoing through. According to Nanami it was “The best week of my life”.  But for you, it was a slow descent into madness. The absence of your two best guys, who were always there to bug you and share in the chaos, was unbearable.

Hell, even Yaga was starting to get worried.

Shoko wasn’t much help. Completely jaded by the routine of arguments and breakups between the second years, she shrugged off the situation with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “They’ll make up… eventually.”

You were never one to just sit back and let situations play out. So you whipped out your phone to set your plan in motion.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬

(Y/N)                                          (Y/N) Hey, movie tn? My place.    Movie night 2nite? Sugu                                          Toru Sounds great. I’ll bring the movie.     Heading 2 the store!    You sigh in relief. They WERE going to make up today, whether they liked it or not. Your phone buzzes again. Sugu                                         Toru Hey… just us right?                    Me n you right (Y/N)?                        (Y/N)                          Yep! Just us!

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬

You prepared your dorm, fluffing out the pillows, grabbing your softest blankets. Hiding any sharp objects. The soft glow from the tv and your fairy lights set a cozy atmosphere. You only hoped that it would help soften the tension between them.

Knock Knock

Your ears perk up at the noise, you stood up, smoothing your clothes as if they could somehow help soothe the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach. As you opened the door you saw Suguru, leaned casually against the doorframe, his raven hair falling in soft waves around his face. His kind eyes tinged with nervousness.

“Hey Suguru!” Your voice warm as you greet him, stepping aside to let the taller boy in. He settled into his favorite spot, grabbing the blanket he’d left here one too many times. You settled next to him as he pulled out four DVDs showing you the selection.

“I haven’t seen any of these yet actually.” He says looking at you.

As you both discussed the movies, you heard another knock at the door. You quickly stood up, hoping Suguru wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. 

“Hmm? Shoko Coming?”

“Not… exactly.” You laugh nervously as your hand slowly reaches for the doorknob. As the door inches open you see Satoru, his white hair slightly damp from his (never-ever missed 8pm Shower). He greets you with a smile, striding into dorm. Immediate irritation flashed across his face when he made eye contact with Suguru.

Their eyes narrow at each other, then at you.

“What’s HE doing here?”

You place your hands on your hips; side-eyeing Satoru to sit down. He begrudgingly takes a seat next to the raven-haired teen, pouting.

“We are watching a movie. And you’re both staying.” Your normally soft voice, firm as you glare at the two older teens.

They both shoot each other glares before sighing. You had won… for now. You took your place, right in between them.

You tried your hardest to just watch the movie, but it was so boring. Usually Suguru picked out pretty decent movies, but this documentary was NOT a decent movie. You stole glances at your friends; if you weren’t so pissed off at them you would’ve been blushing at the prospect of being sat between two attractive guys. 

Their close proximity made your heart race. You could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, and every small movement seemed amplified in the quiet room. Your hand reached into the popcorn bucket. As the pair saw your hand go in they both reached in with you, hoping to touch you.

Both flinching as their hands brushed each other’s instead of yours. They shot each other a glare before turning their attention back to the TV. A minute passes before Satoru speaks.

“I could’ve picked a better movie with my eyes closed.” The white-haired teen mumbles, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

“Just watch the movie, Satoru.”  Suguru replied with an exasperated groan, though his eyes never left the screen.

“This shit is gonna bore me to death.”

“That isn’t such a bad idea—”

You sigh heavily, grabbing the remote to pause the movie. You stand up, looking down at the two sorcerers.

“Alright. What the hell’s going on with you two?” You demanded

They both looked away, avoiding eye contact. Satoru crossed his arms, pouting even more, while Suguru ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

You tap your foot, glaring down expectantly.

Suguru glanced at Satoru, their eyes meeting in a brief, intense exchange. Satoru’s nod was almost imperceptible, but Suguru seemed to take it as a cue. He drew a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“(Y/N)...”

“We’ve been acting like this because, well..”

“We’re both...” Satoru continued.

“In love with you.” Suguru finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, stunned by the confession. The room felt suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You stared at them, trying to process their words. Your breath hitched, struggling to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. It felt like a storm was raging within the confines of the small room, each thunderous heartbeat echoing off the walls.

“You’re… what?” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling.

Satoru stood up, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless.  “We’re in love with you, (Y/N). Both of us.”

Suguru’s nod was slow, almost hesitant. 

 “And it’s tearing us apart.”

taglist: @4evahevah @angelofdarkness2 @iangeeluv

@isishsoskdjsk @yunho-leeknow @starriesworlds @hiblue123158 @n3ptoonie

[celandeline]

in your head, on your mind // Jordan Li x Reader, Part 1

i know i haven't posted in like a year, and this is a huge shift from my usual writing, but i cannot express how jordan li has captured my heart and soul. this is definitely going to be a good number of parts, and will also definitely have some smut in there.

word count: 1912

previous part // next part

The Lamplighter School of Crimefighting is your home away from home on the GodU campus. Being Professor Caldwin’s TA is almost a full-time job, and in addition to classes and training and homework, most days you are in Caldwin’s office more than your own dorm room. Not that you mind, really. It’s the sort of job that will really set you up later in life - Caldwin knows everyone - and anything is better than listening to your roommate try and go viral on TikTok for the 30,000th time. And Caldwin’s a nice guy, in his own way.

“L/N.” The gruff call from his actual office resounds over the little foyer your desk sits in. 

Scooting back from your seat, you get up and walk the few steps between your desk and the doorway, hovering at the frame. “Professor?”

Caldwin sits at his own desk - a big, antique wooden thing that’s probably older than anything else in this building - hunched over in front of a desktop computer that’s far too sleek looking for the desk it sits on. Frustration radiates out from him like rays of the sun. Stupid fucking computer… swear they make these things difficult for people my age on purpose… snippets of his thoughts play in your mind without prompting - your superpower passively picking up his most prominent feelings. Of course, if you wanted, you could really focus and read his mind fully (even talk to him telepathically), but that was a boundary you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t cross. He is your professor - and boss - after all. 

Peering over the top of his glasses, Caldwin blinks at you, gathering a stack of papers to his left. “Bring these over to Brink, will you? If he’s busy you can just leave them with his TA, it’s nothing classified.”

You step into his Caldwin’s office fully, and take the stack of papers from him. It’s a hefty thing, so you tuck it under your arm. “Will do.”

“And while you’re out and about, get me another cup of coffee from the staff room. Two sugars-”

“Two sugars, two pumps of hazelnut, one splash of cream.” You say, already heading out the door. You’ve had his coffee order down since he hired you at the beginning of your sophomore year. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thank you.” Gonna take a hammer to this stupid fucking-

His thoughts cut off abruptly as you walk out of range, heading into the halls of the Crimefighting building. Students fill the space, coming and going from classes, sitting in the chairs near the floor to ceiling windows busy on their laptops, loitering around as they chat with their friends. You purposefully focus on your own goal - Brink’s office, and then the staff break room to make Caldwin another coffee - to force the cacophony of thoughts down. The audible chatter, in addition to the telepathic noise, would have been enough to make you scream a few years ago, but classes at GodU have lived up to your expectations - they’re hard, but worth it, to get your power under control.

Brink’s office is across the building from Caldwin’s, a more luxurious room with lots of natural light and a good view of the campus green. You’d only really ever been in there on Caldwin’s instructions - Brink had only been your professor once, your freshman year, and you’d been too scared of his reputation to actually go to his office hours. Still, it was easy to find, and when you tried the door, it was open. 

The foyer of Brink’s office is much larger than the space in Caldwin’s and you find yourself a little jealous - it would be nice to sit at a desk here. You look first to the doors leading into his actual office, and find them closed. You turn to the figure sitting at the desk, and ask, “Is Brink busy right now? I have papers from Caldwin for him.”

The girl at the desk - pretty, with stark black hair that just reached her jaw and big brown doe eyes - just stares at you for a moment before responding. “Yeah, he’s on a call, actually.” Her voice is smooth, a little deep, and not what you expected at all. 

“Oh, alright, I can just-” You start, only to be interrupted by a wave of lust.

Goddamn. Smash. The things I wouldn’t do to get between those legs… wow. Those legs. How have I not run into YOU before? I mean really, surely I would have noticed the hottest person alive on campus - especially here, in my goddamn department. Fuck. 

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that. You balk. “Um. Sorry. Yeah, it’s not anything classified so Caldwin said I could just leave it with you,” You untuck the stack from under your arm and pass it towards Brink’s TA. Her fingers brush over yours as she takes it, and for a split second, you can feel just how much you were affecting her - the wave of horniness hit you like a bus. The feeling lingers as you take your hand away, and you’re unable to tell if it’s leftover from her or your own reaction. Maybe a bit of both. 

She sets the papers down on her desk beside her without looking, too busy smiling at you. “I’m Jordan, by the way.” She says. “I take it your Caldwin’s TA?”

“Yeah.” You say. “Y/N.”

Y/N. That’s a nice name. Very screamable. 

You fight the urge to do anything but smile. Just looking at her, you would have never guessed such wanton thoughts would come from such a tiny girl, but never judge a book by its cover, right?

“Nice to meet you Jordan.” You continue, careful to keep your voice steady, even. Casual. Not like you can hear every piece of want cross her mind. 

I bet you’d sound good screaming my name. I need to stop - I don’t even know you. I need to get laid, my god. Down tremendous and I JUST learned your name. 

The image of you and Jordan together - tangled up in unfamiliar bedsheets, Jordan’s mouth latched onto your neck as you moaned in pleasure - crosses Jordan’s mind, and yours by extent. For, as she said, having just met you, it was a surprisingly good imaginary version of yourself. Though, she is looking right at you. It would be hard to get any details wrong when you were standing right there. 

Would you let me? Maybe if I was in the other form-

Before you had time to wonder what that meant, she’s changing before your eyes, rearranging skin and bone until an entirely different person is sitting at the desk. A man - taller, broader, but just as pretty and with the same big brown eyes. Your surprise must have shown on your face, because Jordan laughs, a smile stretching across their face. 

“Sorry.” They say, leaning forward to rest their elbows against the desk. “It’s just that I have two faces, so I didn’t want you to get confused if some random dude was waving at you cause I forgot you only met me as a girl.”

“That’s a pretty cool power.” You say, and then, with your mind, “And a pretty good reason to show it off. I mean, for something you came up with on the fly anyway.”

You watch their eyes widen as they realize that you’re in their head, and then their cheeks flush red as they remember what they were thinking about not moments before. “So you’ve just been hearing-?”

“Yeah.” You say..

“I am so sorry-” They start, shifting back into their female form. 

“No, it’s okay.” You say, a laugh on the edge of your lips. “I promise it’s fine, I mean, you didn’t know I was listening in and it’s your thoughts you can’t like, help it. And it’s not the first time-”

I bet, looking like that. Fuck. Pretend I didn’t think that. I’m sorry. Jordan buries their head in their hands with a groan. “Sorry.”

You let out a full laugh at that. “It’s okay, I promise. Please don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s fine. It’s flattering, if anything. I mean, you’re pretty good looking yourself. Not that you’re only hot, I mean - I’m sure you’re nice too.” You pause. “That came out a little wrong.”

Jordan smiles. “It’s okay. I mean, you basically get a free pass to do whatever you want to be since I’ve been…” They trail off. In their mind, …objectifying you. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me anyway, but… fuck. Sorry.

You smile again. “It’s okay. Promise.” You lean forward across the desk a little, getting closer without getting too close - you have just met after all. The smell of smokey cologne fills your nose, and causes more butterflies to swirl in your stomach. They really are hot. “You wanna know a secret?”

Jordan leans in too. “Sure.”

“Most guys, when they figure out that I can hear them lusting after me, aren't even apologetic.” You say. “So it’s sweet that you are. Charming, even.” It’s true - which is why you don’t usually bother playing into people’s lustful thoughts, but Jordan… 

Okay. Okay, it’s not a big deal, it’s fine. “Would you want to hang out?” Jordan says, a little rushed, like they’d been waiting for an opportunity. “Sometime? We could train, or something…” Please say yes. You don’t have to say yes. I really want you to though.

You think about it for a moment. You don't usually say yes to these kinds of questions, especially after hearing the person's ulterior motives, but… Jordan seems nice, nice enough to genuinely feel bad about their thoughts once they realized you could hear them. And they are hot, objectively, in both forms. 

“Yeah, I’d be down to hang out.” You say, reaching into the pocket of your jeans to pull out your phone. “Can I-?”

“Yes. Yeah.” Jordan pulls their own phone out clumsily, handing it to you. 

You put your number in with a smile, and take the liberty to add a little emoji heart at the end of your name before you hand it back to them. “Should I text you, or are you going to text me?”

I don’t think I could stop myself if I tried. “I’ll text you.” Jordan says, glancing down at their phone. “A heart?”

“You don’t think so?”

No, no. No it’s great, I'm never going to change it. “A little fast, no?” They say. 

You smile, and inject your voice into their head. Liar. I’ll see you later Jordan. 

Before they can say anything else, you turn and leave, throwing one last glance at them over your shoulder. They don’t even try to pretend that they aren’t staring. 

Butterflies swarm your stomach as you make your way back through the halls. You can’t remember the last time being in someone’s head made you like them more rather than less, but Jordan… sweet, apologetic Jordan. It’s exciting, in a way, knowing what they were thinking about you, and knowing that despite the fact that you know, they still want to hang out. You check your phone, even though it’s not even been a minute since you left. Sure enough, a text-

what are you doing tmrw from like 2-4

You type out your reply: hanging out w u probably

You almost forget to get Caldwin’s coffee on the way back. 

[cottonlemonade]

A Night In The Country

word count: 3626 || avg. reading time: 15 mins.

pairing: university AU!Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni

request: medium custom peach lemonade for Sakusa!♡ Custom: You thought your crush was one-sided little did you know... || fluffy-spicy, getting stranded with seemingly one-sided crush Sakusa

Sakusa leaned back in his seat. His long legs elegantly crossed, he took a sip of his iced hazelnut americano, tapping and scrolling aimlessly on his phone, his mask tucked neatly under his chin.

The lecture hall was filling slowly and the chatter of the dozen or so students that already waited just like him was quietly buzzing in the air.

Sakusa didn’t pay much attention to any of it. He already scanned the room and saw that you hadn’t arrived yet.

But only a moment later, his shoulders tensed slightly when your voice wafted over to him, like the sweet smell of a craving he’d had. He didn’t turn around but he angled his phone a little to catch your reflection. You were laughing with a friend as you walked down the steps, trying to decide where to sit. He was lucky today. You shuffled through the benches behind him and settled a few seats away.

“So it’s not gonna be fixed in time?”, he heard your friend ask somberly.

“I mean, it could be probably, but I don’t have the money right now. New brakes are so expensive, I’ll have to at least pull two extra shifts at the store to afford them. I was looking into some buses but because we live so far out there is no direct route and I’d arrive at the station some time after midnight and then would have to wait until morning for another bus and yeah… I’ll make it work somehow, but it sucks.”

“And asking your parents to chip in for a taxi?”

“Nah, that defeats the whole purpose of a surprise.”, you replied with a sigh, “Plus I don’t think they have any signal at their cabin so they couldn’t even send it until they get back on the road home.”

“Maybe I could ask my brother to take you?”, the friend offered.

He listened to you ponder. The thought of you spending possibly a couple of hours with some other guy alone in a car was unacceptable.

“I can drive you.”, he heard himself saying.

“Hm?” Both girls looked at him when he turned in his seat, casually waving with his coffee, the ice cubes rattling softly as he did.

“I can drive you.”, he repeated, “I was planning to drive home tonight anyway (lie), so it wouldn’t be a problem to take you. You live close to Nakagawa, right? I have to head in that direction, too (lie), so it wouldn’t be too far out of my way (lie).”

“Uhm. Are you sure?“ You only ever talked to Sakusa for questions on notes or when you were too short to get a book down from a shelf at the library. You definitely weren‘t close enough that you would have felt comfortable asking him for a ride.

“Yeah, no problem. I have training tonight but it ends around 8 if that‘s not too late for you.“

“No! 8 is perfect! Thank you so much!“

You checked the clock on your phone for the third time in as many minutes. You looked around, grabbing the handle of your old travel bag with both hands and rolling back and forth on your feet.

It wasn‘t quite dark yet but the parking lot next to the gym was already illuminated by street lamps. The sky was a pretty blueish gray and the cicadas were busy telling the world that summer was not over yet.

You smoothed out your linen shorts and adjusted the tuck of your shirt. Deciding on an outfit appropriate for a road trip had taken way longer than it should have. Especially since Sakusa was only doing you a favor. It didn’t mean anything so there was no reason to overthink it.

Of course, it was unsurprising that you found him attractive. Half the class was crushing on the anti-social volleyball star and the other half was just slightly better at hiding it.

But when you spotted him in the group spilling from the opening gym doors a few minutes later, your heart stumbled despite your better judgment. Sakusa split from his teammates walking towards the bus stop and lengthened his stride when he saw you.

“Hey, did you wait long?”, he asked and led you towards a sleek black car that most likely cost more than your tuition. You shook your head No as he clicked a button on his car keys to open the trunk, neatly placing his gym bag inside and reaching out his hand to get yours as well.

Somehow, even though freshly laundered, your clothes looked dirty next to his. Aside from the questionable neon yellow and green of his old training jacket, flung onto the backseat, he looked like he was ready to go to a dinner party. His hair was still damp from the post-training shower (his teammates had shrieked in surprise when he joined them for the first time ever in “those germ-infested stalls“) and the car quickly filled with the refreshingly cool smell of his shower gel. It made you feel cozy and light-headed at the same time. It had you imagine for a split second, how Sakusa would take you for a ride after training to grab some late night ice cream and watch the city lights dance on the river while holding hands and talking in his car. The sudden rumbling of the engine pulled you out of your little daydream and you also may have forgotten to breathe when his hand came up to hold the back of your seat as he turned to reverse out of the parking lot. This was going to be a long drive.

Sakusa kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other was propped against his temple, his elbow resting on the door. The road was smooth and barely traveled once you got out of Tokyo traffic. Nakagawa was about two and a half hours south and according to his GPS your house was another 20 minutes further out. All throughout training he had tried to listen in on casual conversations his team members had with each other to get some kind of indication what smalltalk he could bring up but it was mostly concerning volleyball or workout routines or an extensive ranking of protein shake flavors - not much he could use with you.

“Cow.“, he said, pointing out the window to a ruminant-shaped blob that practically blended into the meadow with how dark it had gotten by now.

You followed his eyes and confirmed it was indeed a cow, then smiled politely and went back to selecting music on your phone.

Sakusa felt like an idiot. You lived in a rural town. Cows were nothing novel to you. So back to square one.

He tried a few different approaches.

“Are you reading anything currently?”

And thinking he wouldn’t exactly be interested in the fantasy romance series that was splashed all over your social media, you just shook your head.

Meanwhile, Sakusa didn’t want to readily admit that he had picked up the books after the fourth time you posted about them and even less that he genuinely enjoyed the story. He pursed his lips and just kept his eyes on the road.

“What does your family do?”, he’d ask a few minutes later.

“They’re apple farmers. They also make everything from cider to wine to applesauce.”

He nodded, trying to find an angle to keep you talking.

You on the other hand didn't want to “bore” him with anecdotes about what it was like growing up on a farm. So you fell silent once more.

Sakusa wondered if he was doing something wrong. Usually, when he snatched a seat near you in the lecture halls, you were very talkative and could easily hold a conversation - in most cases ending your stories on a completely different topic than where you started. It was one of your most ridiculously entertaining and endearing qualities that made him notice you in the first place. Who, after all, could ignore a girl that talked knowledgeably about autapomorphies of any given taxon and then wondered in her next breath if crocodiles had a concept of friendship.

“Do you… like food?”, he asked and resisted the urge to bonk his head on the steering wheel. He had meant to be a lot more specific but it worked!

You had frowned at him for a moment, then chuckled, then laughed and said, “Yes, I do enjoy food. How about you?”

“Half an hour to go.”, he informed you when he turned off onto a bumpy dirt road between two rice paddies. The past hour he had talked and laughed more than he had all semester and even though his voice was getting hoarse, he was disappointed that the drive was nearing its end. Sakusa winced when he hit a pothole in his attempt to miss another. The car shook. It really wasn’t meant for off-roading, but it soldiered on. Until it didn’t.

After a couple more hits from rocks and uneven terrain, the engine sputtered and then stopped.

“Huh.” Sakusa turned the key in the ignition once, twice but never got more than a - described generously - weak little stutter.

“I’m so sorry.”, you said earnestly, but at the same time tried to suppress a snort at his incredulous expression.

“It’ll be fine.” He plucked his phone from the holder on the console and began searching for car workshops nearby.

You waited patiently for the realization to hit.

“Oh.”

And there it was.

“Should have figured that there are no 24h auto shops in the countryside.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You two looked at each other, then broke into laughter, still giddy from your pre-pothole conversations.

“Looks like we’re walking.”

With a flourish, you opened the door and got out.

“Walking?” He followed your example and met you at the trunk.

“Yup!” Your village-born “get to work” attitude sprung to life when you waited for him to push the button so you could retrieve your bag, “We’re only a few minutes out of Nakagawa. We can walk there and ask for help. And if all else fails, we can at least find a place to spend the night.”

Spend the night? Sakusa felt his heart stop and then pump hard to make up for lost time.

You shouldered your bag and grinned.

“Let’s go!”

Holding your phones aloft to illuminate the pitch dark a little, you hiked along the dirt road, always switching between checking your next steps and zeroing in on the few town lights that dappled the not too distant horizon. You picked up the conversation where you left off and learned about his high school years and the team he used to play with. You yourself were part of the archery club at university and had played a bit of softball in high school. Sakusa was asking question after question, feeling relaxed whenever you talked for a long time. He listened intently as you recounted key moments from your childhood and the one softball tournament you played in your first year, how you got hit in the face by a curveball once and then decided that maybe a different sport would be more suited for you.

“Oh, don’t you wanna call your folks?”, you asked suddenly, when the dirt road finally turned to asphalt and a large sign announced the entrance of Nakagawa.

In the dim cone of light from your phone you saw him frown.

“Why?”

“Cause you said you were headed my way today to go home. They must be worried sick by now.”

“Oh.”, he averted his eyes and felt his ears burn in embarrassment. “No, they’re not.”

“Hmm, I bet they are.”, you smiled, then obviously got an idea, “Oh! Maybe they can come pick you up! Where do they live?”

“Aoyama.”, he said it innocently and quickly as if ripping off a bandaid.

“Ao- wait, isn’t that in Shibuya?”

“Uh huh.” He walked past you, reaching the still surprisingly lively main road of town, feigning interest in a pub to his left.

“That’s the north of Tokyo.”, you noted.

“Yes.”, he agreed simply.

Your stomach flipped. Of course you didn’t want to assume anything but if his behavior tonight was any indication then…

He turned around, ripping you from your thoughts. “We should find a place to sleep first.”, he said, typing on his phone, “And then we can grab something to eat.”

“Right.”, you said, still wondering if the puzzle pieces in your head fit together or if you were just delusional.

“Seems like it’ll be difficult to find two single rooms on such short notice.”, he muttered, scrolling, then standing next to you so you could check the screen as well.

“These are all double beds.”, you so keenly observed.

“Right.”, he said slowly. Your proximity made his head swim. “Then we should probably look somewhere else.”

“Right.”, you agreed, clearing your throat.

“Or we could book two double bedrooms.”, he suggested, his calm tone not matching the excited panic rising his chest at all. Sakusa really hoped you would say No.

Being quite a bit taller allowed him the privilege to have you look up at him with your big (e/c) eyes.

“That seems reasonable…”

Were you disappointed? He searched your face for any hint. You were fairly open about your feelings, carrying your thoughts on the tip of your tongue and heart on your sleeve. It was another entrancing quality he felt himself drawn to.

He didn’t want to be the pervert who pushed for sleeping in one bed. You might end up thinking he tricked you somehow.

“But-“, you began, biting your lip for a moment before continuing, “maybe it’ll be okay to share for one night?”

“Right…”

“Just if it’s alright with you.”, you hastily added.

An image formed in his mind. He was sitting on a freshly made bed, when the door to the bathroom opened and you stepped out enveloped in a cloud of steam. A towel would be tightly wrapped around you, not quite big enough to cover your curves - a slid on the side teasing more of your plush thigh. You’d sit down next to him, applying lotion to your legs and he’d be mesmerized by the little water drops still clinging to your skin. In his head you’d ask if he could help you with the lotion because you were worried your towel would slip and he was nothing if not helpful.

Back in reality he tore himself away from staring at your reddening cheeks and his finger hovered over the booking button.

“Y/n-chan?!” A booming voice from up ahead made you two look up.

A woman with a graying perm stuffed under a bright green bandana came up to you with determined steps, a wide smile on her face and she embraced you without hesitation.

“In town for your mom’s birthday, I guess? You’ve certainly grown a lot. Must be all that good food in Tokyo. You look more like your parents every day. I remember when you were still that round-faced little thing stealing strawberries from my garden!”, she tsk’ed her tongue playfully, “Is your brother coming, too? Haven’t seen him in a while as well, but that’s to be expected when he is always so busy. But you should make time for family at least. - And who do we have here? My, my. I don’t know the last time you brought a boyfriend home but he is certainly a handsome one, isn’t he? What’s your name?”

You didn’t even know where to start, feeling like most of her questions were rhetorical. And although you definitely wanted to tell her that Sakusa was certainly not your boyfriend, you also knew that that would bring on a whole new wave of interrogations.

“Sakusa Kyoomi.”, he just said with a deep bow and an even deeper blush on his ears which the night and warm lights from the surrounding restaurants gratefully hid.

Maybe he also figured it would be easier to just play along, you thought.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was just happy someone put the idea in your head.

The woman was only about half his height and took her time taking in every inch of his appearance, no doubt making mental notes to tell all her friends about it first thing tomorrow.

Your situation was quickly explained and the friendly neighbor just waved it off.

“Don’t worry, dearies. I can take you home, no problem. The truck’s this way.” You exchanged a look with Sakusa who just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do. “Well, come on, you two. No one is getting any younger here.”

The beige banged up pickup was only a few hundred meters away. The back was stacked full of large baskets holding different vegetables.

“Don’t mind ol’ Momo, but I think you two have to squeeze in the back.”

“Ol’ Momo” was a giant white Akita snoozing on the passenger seat. He lifted his head when they opened the doors and only gave a deep tired woof as a greeting, his tail wagging lazily when the women scooted in next to him behind the wheel.

Sakusa tried his hardest not to touch anything. The backseat was covered in dust and sand and housed more big plastic colanders with precariously stacked daikons, still dirty from the field’s soil. If the car wasn’t his worst nightmare he would have greatly enjoyed having you so close to him. Your thigh was pressed against his and he had flashbacks to his little daydream excursion from earlier. He was still pretty disappointed that he was robbed of the opportunity, however miniscule his chance with you might have been in the first place.

Off the truck went. Of course more dirt roads meant more potholes but unlike his fancy city car the sturdy little pickup truck had no problems trundling along. Apparently in no need of an actual conversation partner, the neighbor just kept on talking, bringing you up to speed on how her fields were doing, what her sons were up to and gave an exact play by play of how her husband managed to strike a bargain on new seeds for the following year. You nodded politely or asked an occasional question to keep her attention away from Sakusa, while he watched you being thrown around like a ragdoll during more turbulent road maneuvers. He at least had the luxury to hang on for dear life on the grab handle above the car window. You, sitting in the middle of the backseat with a non-functioning seatbelt, either dealt with your bumpy fate or tried to steady yourself elsewhere. The truck’s cabin jumbled again and you jerked forward, barely holding onto the back of the driver’s seat. His arm shot out almost automatically to wrap around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“Thank you.”, you murmured so the woman wouldn’t hear, “I’m sorry, I know you hate touching people.”

“I don’t mind.”, he replied.

Your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he unhurriedly let you go and looked out the window into the pitch blackness of the country night. Sakusa had forgotten how dark it could get without the constant neon lights of the city. In the reflection of the window he still saw you staring for a moment, then turning your head back to the front, answering some question of the neighbor. He stretched his fingers, your softness now seemingly imprinted in his memory.

Another minute or so passed before you were thrown forward once again. This time, his arm remained around you. “If you don’t mind.”, he said under his breath, “Just until the road gets better.”

You nodded slowly and robotically looked to the front again.

It was difficult not to milk this opportunity. Having Sakusa holding you close like this sparked all kinds of ideas of snuggling up against his broad frame, drawing patterns on his thighs and asking dreamily if he also thought spring was the perfect season for a wedding.

Sakusa hid a smirk behind his hand when your head lulled against his shoulder as soon as the truck reached a smooth road. He adjusted his seat so you would be comfortable and didn’t stop grinning until the truck pulled up to a farmhouse.

“There we are.”, the neighbor announced and then hushed her voice when she saw you in the rear view mirror, “Oh, look at that. Well aren’t you just the cutest love birds. You wake her up, I’ll get her bag.”

He really didn’t want to lose your warmth despite the remaining summer heat. You felt so perfect in his arms like this.

“Y/n.”, he said softly, “Y/n, you’re home.”

Carefully brushing a strand of hair out of your face he poked your cheek with his finger. No reaction. He poked again. You mumbled something and cuddled closer. His body was about to explode from cuteness overload.

His door opened. “No luck?”, the woman asked.

He shook his head and began to think. Making sure to pull you along with him, he stepped out of the truck and slid his other arm underneath your knees.

“Oh you’re not picking her up, sweet boy. You’ll break your neck trying to lift this one.”, she warned but Sakusa already brought you close to his chest. He would ask his trainer to add extra sets for muscle gain in his workouts from now on, but at this moment he was just way too satisfied with himself to carry you across the courtyard up the few steps to the front door. The cool night air made you stir in his arms. “Sakusa?”

“Great timing. Do you have the keys?”

art: @KUM07474_V on Twitter

a/n: so uhm, yeah this one just kept on going xD thank you so much for your request and continued kindness @melimelisworld, I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Rec List: New Authors!

Welcome to 2025! And as we say goodbye to 2024, this list is taking a moment to shout out new authors who ventured into 1D fic this year -- welcome aboard. It's truly amazing to me that 15 years since the band was formed, and 9 years since they as a group put out new music or performed together, new people are still joining the fold -- or dipping their toes into writing and posting fic, after hanging out in other spaces for a time. I'm sure plenty of people are joining via the solo music, but it still warms my heart to see this community that has meant so much to me continuing to grow and flourish. New fans are just as valid as old fans, and are absolutely essential for a healthy fandom ecosystem.

So with that said, here are 9 fics from people who started posting for the 1D fandom in 2024. And some of these writers have been incredibly prolific -- two of the fics listed are over 100k, and one of the authors has sixteen 1D fics already! Here's hoping we see more from them in 2025 and beyond -- please join me in giving them a warm welcome to the community!

Notorious by violetlilachyacinth (64021, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: period-typical homophobia, implied/referenced rape/non-con

1946. WWII has just ended, but there's still work to be done. To help bring Nazis to justice, U.S. government agent Harry Styles receives a new assignment: recruit Louis Tomlinson, the American son of a convicted German war criminal, as a spy. Neither knows the full extent of the task they're asked to complete nor the full impact they will have upon each other. The stakes are quite high.

Reccer says: This fic blew me away! It's an adaptation of a film, and I can imagine how much work the author did to make it their own. Harry and Louis' connection leapt off the page. And no spoilers, but I loved the ending.

freaky friday by tracksuitponytail (1700, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post Warnings: dubious consent due to body swap

It’s Friday the 13th—a day like any other for Louis until he wakes up in the middle of the night... in his best friend's body.

Reccer says: SO well written! I enjoyed it so much, and it really cheered me up on Thanksgiving

Coffee and Confessions by Vyshv (676, General, Zayn Malik/Harry Styles)

A cozy coffee shop in New York City, with the warm aroma of roasted beans and the soft hum of chatter, two lost friends find each other.

Reccer says: This fic so so soft and lovely! I love the feelings it evoked

Hazelnut by BlackRose_Lilly28 (100, Not Rated, None)

Another drabble based on a twitter prompt. This time: "Hazelnut."

Reccer says: Fun to read, and very sweet!

here for the thrill by worldsofdreamers (3357, Explicit, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik)

niall wore a cowboy hat and he was just saving a horse

Reccer says: we needed a fic of niall in his lil cowboy hat and this fic DELIVERS. always love fics from this author. they’re very good writer and they are a good go to if you’re in need of a ziall fic.

All in the Golden Afternoon by leighllbealright (126028, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

When Louis Tomlinson needed to find a new preschool for his daughter, he wasn't expecting the one across the street to be everything he and Goldie ever needed. Or: the one where Louis is closed off, Harry is the weirdest person ever, and Gemma may as well be a psychic. Somehow, calico-cat-style, they forge a beautiful family from pieces that don't quite fit.

Reccer says: This series is one of my top 10 from 2024. Brilliant characters, gorgeous writing, Harry’s sweaty elbow-pits, everyone is a flower, naked treehouses and more.

Whole Lot of History by Blue_Green28 (73592, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage Harry and Louis are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they?

Reccer says: Exes to Lovers, Miscommunication, mpreg

everything of mine is yours by blueskiesrry (33000, Explicit, Harry Styles/ Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

Reccer says: The scene where Louis reads a Lincoln biography out loud to H in the bath? Swoonworthy!

The Handbasket Diaries by Hazel_tea_dreams (160326, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

London’s expensive and work’s a grind but everything is a little better when you have good mates who understand you. The narrow brick flat building in Brixton, home to Louis, Liam, and Zayn and affectionately referred to as The Handbasket, is more than a place to catch winks and reheat leftovers. When Harry stumbles into its midst (and Louis' lap) with flatmate Niall in tow on a particularly hot Pride weekend, none of the five of them will be fully prepared for the shenanigans, tomfoolery, true friendship, or steamy romance that will unfold over the year.

Reccer says: This was so fucking lovely. I binged it in two days—only put it down to scream about it on Bluesky (and sleep and like, essential stuff). The writing is witty and tender and, apparently, communication kink is my jam. This is the only fic (in recent memory) that I finished and then wanted to restart immediately.

[rustedhearts]

listening to 'asleep' by the smiths

tw: child loss

"do you think it'll be sunny all the time?"

"hmm...the occasional rainy day might be nice."

"mm. i like rain."

on the muted floral colors of your pillowcase, steve turns his head. hair whooshing with the gentle shift, splaying out in hazelnut colors. the green of his sweatshirt has faded in the wash, blown soft by the wind on the drying line outside the window. overhead, it blares the orange and yellow light of mid-afternoon.

he's looking at you, eyes flicking over your profile. "yeah...me too"

there's an old water stain on the ceiling that steve once said is shaped like an elephant. you think it just looks more like a blob. but you have been staring at it above your bed for far too many years.

"it's nice," you whisper, trying not to give into his peering.

steve continues anyway, letting his cheek touch the flattened pillow. your bedsheets are rumpled between your bodies, cushioning yesterday's clothes. you never changed when you came home. couldn't get past the bed.

"yeah...it is," he agrees just as quietly.

his finger enters the plain of your palm, grazing the skin so delicately that it tickles. you twitch at the touch, a smile ghosting over your mouth. he wants to capture it—this moment—in a photograph and paste it on the old wallpapered wall. in this tiny trailer, where you'd spent your youth, where you shared a home. where you dreamed of worlds outside of the one the pair of you were continually stuck in.

"how would we go?"

"a plane. a plane with the fanciest seats and all the roasted peanuts you want. and they hand out free headsets and airplane pillows."

you let your eyes flutter closed, humming again. "layover?"

steve swallows, and against the stiff quiet of the room, it echoes. a dog barks somewhere, a few rows away. children scuttle and chatter. it's saturday, and there are much better things to do.

you never knew fridays could be capable of what yesterday was.

"one," steve replies, still running circles over your palm. "texas."

your lips wiggle into another half-grin. closing your eyes makes you tired, and the room feels warm. regaining circulation, losing blood—it fatigues.

"that's out of the way."

steve shrugs, though you can't see it. he can't stop looking at you. he's worried if he stops, you'll disappear. he's always worried you'll disappear.

"just a little fun. it lasts a day, and we'll go to the rodeo. get an iced tea for the flight home."

"an iced tea," you marvel breathily.

steve swallows again. it clicks and sizzles down his throat. he swallows a lot when he feels tears coming on. your nostrils flare with the onset of your own.

"yeah," he agrees, mumbling now. "with all the sugar you want."

"l-lemons?"

"lemons, too."

snapping your eyes open, you flick your head over and bump into his nose. he shuffles closer, nuzzling the tips of them together. the breath he releases seems needed. your hands claps together between your sandwiched bodies.

almost twenty-four hours since you left the clinic. hours of collecting bedsores between waddled and winced trips to the bathroom. not once in those long, taffy-pulled hours did you cry.

but here they are, those inevitable tears.

"you th-think she'll have l-lemons, too?" you whimper, lip wobbling.

steve presses his forehead against your own. when his eyes close, they squeeze free hot tears.

"y-yeah, honey. she lives in a world full of lemons."

you sniffle and sink further into his soft and colorful clothes. "good. she liked lemons."

his thumb catches a tear beading down your cheek blindly. "yeah, she did."

for three weeks after the first test, all you did was drink iced tea with lemons.

it might be silly to think that in heaven, god gives away something so small, but one could only hope.

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Eight: Cornered Animals Bite SS: 4 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 1.3K Content Warnings: Talks about drugs, drug use Previous Next Masterlist

Two weeks have passed since Minho uncovered one of Hayun’s secrets, and now, as she walks into the café where they agreed to meet, the late afternoon sun casts long, golden shadows across the floor. The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and there’s a low hum of chatter from the other patrons.

Dressed in a black tube top that bares her midriff, grey slacks hanging just loose enough to give her an effortless look, and her usual black high-tops, Hayun steps inside, sunglasses perched on her nose, shielding her tired eyes from the harsh light. She spots Minho sitting in a private booth tucked away in the back, sipping on an iced Americano. A honeycomb hazelnut frappuccino sits across from him, clearly meant for her.

She exhales, feeling the weight of the moment as she adjusts the strap of her tote bag and heads toward him. Dropping her bag beside the booth, she slides into the seat opposite him with a quiet sigh. "Hey,"

Minho looks up at her, his eyes sharp and focused, as they always are. He gives a small nod in greeting. "I ordered for you," he says, gesturing to the frappuccino.

Hayun glances at the drink, then back at him. "Thanks," she mumbles, but her voice lacks the usual casualness she’s known for. "So, what's this about?"

Minho leans back in his seat, his eyes never leaving hers. "I want to talk to you about the pills."

Her body tenses immediately, as if bracing for impact. Hayun’s instinct is to run, to shut this conversation down before it even begins. Her hand moves toward her bag, ready to bolt. 

"Sit down," Minho says firmly, his voice low but with an edge of authority that stops her in her tracks.

For a moment, their eyes lock, a silent battle of wills playing out in the space between them. Finally, with a sigh, Hayun drops back into the seat, her fingers fidgeting with the straw of her drink, twisting it around absentmindedly.

Minho takes a slow sip of his iced Americano, his gaze never wavering. "Look, what you do in your own time is your business. I don’t care if you get high to cope, zone out, or whatever. But if this starts to affect the investigation into my sister’s death, or anything to do with Yuna, then we have a serious problem."

Hayun’s jaw tightens, the defensiveness rising in her like a shield. "I usually stay home when I take them, alright? Jeongin stays with me, makes sure I’m good. I don’t take them out in public. It’s under control."

Minho raises an eyebrow, his expression unyielding. "And yet, two weeks ago at that rave, you weren’t home."

Her grip tightens on the straw, but she keeps her gaze down, avoiding his eyes. "That was a one-off. It’s not something I do often."

Minho leans forward. "This has something to do with Mingi, doesn’t it?"

At the sound of Mingi’s name, Hayun freezes. The air in the café suddenly feels too thick, too heavy. Her heart races, but she keeps her face as neutral as she can manage. "Didn’t you just say it was none of your business?" she retorts, trying to deflect, her voice edged with frustration.

Minho’s eyes narrow, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Mingi is involved in this investigation. That makes it my business."

Hayun swallows hard, her fingers trembling slightly as she fidgets with her drink. "You wouldn’t understand," she mutters, her voice barely audible, her defences crumbling around her.

In one swift motion, Minho reaches across the table and snatches her sunglasses before she can react. His eyes dart to hers, scanning her face, his gaze hardening as he notices her pinpoint pupils. "You’re high right now?" he snaps, his voice low but furious. "Do you want to get kicked out of university?"

Hayun grabs the sunglasses back from him and puts them on. "It’s none of your concern," she says, her voice shaky.

Minho exhales sharply, clearly losing patience. He leans in, his tone turning icy. "You need to tell me what’s going on. Right now. Whatever it is, it doesn’t leave this booth. But I need to know."

"I can’t," Hayun whispers, her voice cracking under the pressure. She feels the walls closing in, the air too thick to breathe. Her heart races as she glances away, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

Minho’s eyes narrow, suspicion flaring. "Is he blackmailing you? Is that what this is?"

Hayun doesn’t answer. She takes a slow sip of her frappuccino, the cold sweetness doing nothing to ease the burning in her chest. Her mind races, searching for a way out of this conversation, but Minho isn’t letting up.

"He has something on you. Doesn’t he?"

"Minho, please," she murmurs. "This is the only thing I will ever ask of you. Just drop it."

For a moment, Minho is silent, studying her with a look that’s impossible to read.

"When we go to question him, Jisung, Felix, Jeongin, and I, he might react. He might use whatever leverage he has on you. Cornered animals bite, Hayun. And if you’re hiding something that can screw up this investigation because of him, I will ruin you."

His words slice through the air, and Hayun flinches, her heart pounding in her chest. She wants to tell him, to spill everything, but the fear, the fear of what Mingi could do if he finds out, the fear of what it would mean to face that truth, clamps down on her like a vice.

"I won’t let that happen," she finally says, her voice barely a whisper, but the tremble in her words betrays the lie.

Minho’s gaze stays locked on hers, unrelenting. "You better make sure of that. Because I won’t let anything get in the way of finding out what happened to my sister. Not even you."

Hayun’s throat tightens, her fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turn white. She can feel the weight of Minho’s words pressing down on her, suffocating her. The truth is bubbling beneath the surface, clawing to get out, but she’s too scared. Too ashamed.

After a long, agonizing silence, Minho leans back in his seat, his gaze still cold but a touch softer than before. "If you ever need help," he says, his voice a little less harsh now, "real help, you know where to find me. But don’t think for a second that I’ll let you jeopardize this investigation."

Hayun nods, unable to form words. She takes another sip of her frappuccino, the icy drink sliding down her throat, but it does nothing to cool the burning sensation in her chest. The café feels suffocating now, every word exchanged weighing heavy between them.

Minho watches her for a moment longer before picking up his iced Americano and taking a slow sip. The tension in the air between them doesn’t dissipate. It thickens, lingers, like a storm waiting to break.

"You need to take care of yourself, Hayun," Minho says finally, his voice a strange mix of concern and warning. "Because if you don’t, this whole thing could blow up in ways you won’t be able to control."

Hayun doesn’t respond, just nods again, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her. Inside, she’s fighting to keep the panic from overwhelming her. She knows Minho’s right. Everything could fall apart if she’s not careful. But what he doesn’t know is that things have already started unravelling. She’s just not ready to face it yet.

And as Minho takes another sip of his coffee, the silence between them stretches on, filled with words left unsaid and truths left buried.

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam @ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam

[hazelnootnut]

hey um....... where did you guys all come from....... hey....

Uh, anyway! Thank you for the follows! I did not expect this much of a reaction to my ISAT art but it is Very Much Appreciated! Thank you for the support!!

Like I mentioned in my previous posts, I will still be working on the Two Coins Same Side AU bit by bit and also finishing up the Sifloop + Loop sprite edits at Some Point! Right now I'm sort of alternating between my usual upload days for ISAT and non-ISAT art, and my usual schedule is Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 pm GMT+8. So I hope you'll stick around!

[jaal-ama-daravv]

For the kiss game, how about 7 and/or 47 for MW!Rook x Emmerich? Please and thank you~

Oooh

MW!Rook x Emmrich

7. ... to shut them up.

The sun had just begun to rise over the empty planes, shimmering off the gold jewellery on the side table. Maeve awoke slowly - she was not a morning person - to find Emmrich laying in bed, drinking tea, reading his own latest novel. As soon as Emmrich see's Meave's eyes look at him with curious admiration. He leans over, putting the book aside, and kisses her gently by lifting up her chin. "My dear..." he whispers. Meave smiles and lays her head down upon his chest, the gold jewelley ice cold to the touch of her skin in the early morning. "You know, I would love to read you a brief snippet of this novel, would you mind?" He asked, tilting his head to peer at Meave's expression. She smiled, kissing his chest in agreeance. "Well dearest, this was inspired by the work we did together in the Necropolis! You see, it was only a matter of time before..." A few hours passed. Not really. It had only been 23 seconds of her life she'll never get back. As the voice of her bethrothed nested deep in her soul, her vision became twisted as she stared at the books on the shelf. "... you see, dear. It's not just a matter of conjuring the spirits, it's about being able to sense their ..." Maeve thoughts turned to what she would have for breakfast. Almonds? No. Leftover hazelnut torte? Tempting, but no. Oh! Maybe waffles. Waffles are nice. ".. I can't image their ever being a world, or no! A reality where spirits could come and go as they please. Hm I wonder if the Mourn Watch would even need to ..." Actually, waffles may be too much work. Maybe a straight up block of cheese. Solas did leave a million of them here. Plus maybe it'll knock me out from - Oh, right. "... I wonder if Johanna ever did uncover the secrets - -Oh!" Maeve pushed her fingers through Emmrich's hair and curled her fingers around the nape of his neck. Her kiss was soft and deliberate, brimming with affection. As the words from his mouth began to fade, he gently cradled her face, running his thumb across her sharp jawline. Meave opens her eyes slowly, pulling away from him slightly. As if the sun and moon's shadow crossedthe other, their soft gaze englufled in warmth met the other. Their lips meet again in a slow, soothing kiss. Not forceful, but intentional. dissolving any protest or chatter into quiet understanding.

47. ... out of spite.

Did he really just say that? Were those words truly just uttered out of his mouth? Maeve thought to herself, trying not to combust at the seams. 'At your age.' Pfft. Maeve's eyes darkened as they peered into Emmrich's, waiting for a hint of regret to seep out of him. Yet there was nothing. It was clear that these words had struck a nerve with Maeve. Although - whilst her eyes darkened with contemption, there were pulses of love there. However minimal, they were still there. Maeve closed her eyes and looked to the ground. Her fists tigethed into neat balls of anger, and pain. She hastily breathed out and grabbed Emmrich's hand, pushing it down into the desk behind him. She grabbed his face and planted a kiss dripping in love and acheing in momentary grief on him. They kissed for, awhile. The room filled with the whines and whimpers of lovers whose hearts were filled with regret and hints of spite. A sweet disdain for what is more cruel than to face death mere moments after finding love? A certain intentional desire to hurt the one you love - for would facing death be easier if you were alone? "At my age." "Please." Meave pushed herself away from Emmrich by his chest, sauntering off and out of the room. Facing the inevitable.

[amybizarre]

🎄✨𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓝𝓻. 𝓢𝓲𝔁𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷✨🎄

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽: Christmas Market

𝓐𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮: Mob

𝓣𝔂𝓹𝓮: Short Story (No warnings)

𝓞𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓪𝔂'𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻!

You never thought of Mob to be someone, who'd enjoy visitng the Christmas market in the city. The bigger was your surprise, when he actually agreed to meet you there.

Now you were walking down the crowded walkways between the different stands with him. You were all huddled up in your winter coat and scarf, that Mob gifted to you once. And Mob was dressed in his usual attire, except he was wearing a white turtleneck sweater over his dress shirt, to stay warm. He couldn't close his oversized coat without looking ridiculous and taking it off was simply not an option. So an extra layer of sweater it was.

Despite being a busy place, the Christmas market was a very scenic and beautiful backdrop. It was dark already, and the many colorful decorations on the stands and Christmas lights all around created the perfect lighting. Somewhere in the background, calm Christmas music was audible, mixed with the chatter of the townsfolk and yelling of kids having fun.

The current objective for you and Mob was to find a stand that sold mulled wine, which wasn't horribly overrun like the others.

Eventually you found one. Mob let his well known status as mob boss come to play and the two of you could skip the line. You offered to pay for the hot beverages, but Mob insisted to pay for it instead.

With a sigh you gave in. Once he made up his mind there was no changing it anyway. The two of you continued your stroll through the market.

While walking, you noticed Mob kept sneaking glances at you. You threw him a questioning look until you caught him red handed.

Mob chuckled quietly and rubbed the back of his head. "Ah, sorry Neighbor. The colorful lights just frame your face so nicely, it's honestly inspiring. I think I'll turn this memory into a painting."

Awww, that's actually kinda cute! You smiled at him and dropped the topic.

"Never thought you'd be a Christmas person.", you eventually broke the silence between you two, over a serving of caramelized hazelnuts.

"Mh? What made you think that, Neighbor?" He asked you calmly and blinked at a hazelnut to eat it.

"Oh, you know...", you began to guesture around vaguely, "With being a mob boss and all, I just thought you'd be way to busy to care about the holidays."

He just laughed softly. "Now that's where you're wrong, dear. Most importantly, I am a family man. And Christmas is a family holiday. Of course I'm all in for it."

You found yourself dumbfounded. Now that you thought about it, his logic made sense. You quietly sipped your mulled wine and snacked on some nuts as well.

Soon the sweet snack was all gone and you two continued on.

At some point you passed a shooting range, which offered cool prizes for hitting all five targets. At first you weren't too interested, but then you saw one of the prizes being a giant plushie of a character from your favorite show.

Your eyes slowly trailed over to Mob, who was already watching you from the corner of his eyes with a knowing smirk. A small pout of yours was enough for him to understand the assignment.

He approached the stand with you in tow and paid the owner, who was already terrified of the smaller puppet. Now the guns used for this stand weren't actual guns. It was more of an airsoft kind of deal. The vendor gave Mob one of them with trembling hands and wasted no time to hide behind the register.

You smiled slightly, knowing that whether or not he hit all five targets, he'd probably still get that prize for you. Did you feel slightly guilty about that? Ehhh, that was debatable. It was just a plushie, your morales could handle that.

Mob aimed and without much effort he hit all five targets at the back of the range. He won the plushie fair and square and handed it to you with a soft smile.

"Consider it an early Christmas gift, Neighbor..."

You thanked him with a short hug, which he didn't resist. Holding your newest posession, you started to follow him through the crowd towards the next stand.

Him enjoying Christmas just as much as you, was certainly a nice surprise.

[leiawritesstories]

Familiar Feeling

written for @throneofglassmicrofics using the prompts "Fight or Flight" and "Daylight"

a continuation of Familiar Stranger

Word count: 698

Warnings: some angst, soft ending :)

enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tucked into a cozy brick storefront at the corner of Main Street and Fifth Street was Mistward, Aelin's favorite bakery in her hometown. She'd been a regular customer there since she was a child, and the warm, cinnamon-tinged air wrapped around her like one of Emrys the baker's hugs every time she pushed open the bright blue front door. She stood in line behind an adorable older couple, waiting to step up to the counter and order the chocolate hazelnut croissant and iced latte that had been her staple for years, when the bells on the front door chimed and all six foot four of Rowan Whitethorn ducked into the suddenly-too-small space.

Her chattering brain went silent, along with the hum of the bakery ambience, as her eyes crashed into his with all the force of the Pacific during a winter storm. Her spine flashed hot and then cold, a surge of adrenaline kicking her fight or flight instinct into high gear, and she was all but poised to take off like an Olympic sprinter when a warm, soft voice broke through the haze.

"Aelin, dear!" Emrys caught her shaking hands, his dark eyes crinkling with his sunny smile. "I've missed you."

She beamed and hugged him, his comforting scent of sugar and spices grounding her. "I've missed you too, Emrys."

He flicked a single, sharp glance at the man who remained frozen just inside the doorway. "Something tells me he's missed you as well."

"He doesn't get to miss me." Only a whisper, but sharper than a razor blade.

Emrys simply nodded. "I'll get your usual, dear. On the house today."

She thanked him and, carefully avoiding Rowan's presence, crossed the bakery and sat down at a weathered wooden table next to the expansive bay windows. Warm golden sunlight spilled across the old, smooth-worn oak surface, early summer daylight breaking through the morning fog, and she brushed her fingers across the tabletop, drawing in the hint of warmth.

Her coffee and croissant were set gently on the table, and she glanced up to find Rowan beside her table, nudging her plate towards her, a steaming mug in his free hand. "Emrys had me bring this for you. My name is Rowan."

"I..." Her brows wrinkled in confusion. "I'm Aelin."

"Lovely to meet you, Aelin." He dipped his head at the empty seat across from her. "May I?"

Reining in her flight instinct, she nodded. "Why did you just introduce yourself to me as if we don't know each other?"

Shadows flickered across his face. "You said we were strangers." He set down his mug--Americano, one sugar, the same coffee he'd been drinking since they were sixteen. "So I did what any stranger would do when he sees a beautiful woman."

A long-buried, achingly familiar feeling tugged on Aelin's heart at the sincerity in Rowan's words. "Okay." She sipped from her coffee, willing the beverage to give her strength. "Why are you here, Rowan? I thought you promised to never come back."

"We both know I could never stay away." Deep green met sunlit turquoise again, both stares open, searching. "Aelin, I...I was every kind of idiot, and you're right. I should have tried to--I should have tried."

Slowly, she nodded. "I was...in a difficult place, mentally and emotionally, and I've made a lot of progress since then, but I know now that nothing would have changed." She twisted the hammered gold band around her right forefinger. "I come home every summer."

"I know." He laughed sheepishly at her incredulous expression, a coral flush dusting his cheeks. "Uh...I might have asked my mom to tell me if you came back."

"You little snoop," she teased, and the mischievous humor that glinted in her eyes warmed his heart like a shot of pure sunlight.

His fleeting grin washed over her like the tide. "I could never let you go, Ae."

She reached across the table and laid her hands atop his, stilling his tapping fingers. "Then don't."

Her figure was framed in a golden wash of daylight as she leaned across the table and touched her lips to his, softer than the brush of morning mist against his skin.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

[amberlide]

Series: I will love you in all your forms (A series of AU where Garreth and Penelope will meet each other under different circumstances)

Salt and Seaweed

Summary: Pirate Captain Rookwood arrives to celebrate the Queen's birthday, bearing a special gift for her aquarium: a merman who can transform into a man. Garreth's fate seems to be sealed, destined to swim endlessly in a tank for the entire court to see.

Unless someone helps him escape…

Part 1 of 2 Part 2

AO3 link

Paring: Garreth Weasley x Penelope Griffith Merman AU Rating: T Word count: 3.6K Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, Rookwood is a Pirate (so what?), Garreth Weasley as merman.

A/N: a self indulgent fiction for my pirate heart, a last share before I leave :) Special thanks to my lovely beta reader Shivvy ^^

Penelope rolled the sleeve of her dress up to her elbow and leaned on the table, carefully avoiding plunging the cloth into the bowl of punch in front of her. Her wobbly image reflected in the ornate vase holding a massive centerpiece. 

The strain in her hazelnut eyes behind her glasses was evident, as she extended her arm to grab a white daffodil from the composition.

The heavy head of the bloom rested on its stalk, threatening to fall onto the tablecloth. She couldn't let that happen—the Queen would be furious if she noticed such a trivial detail out of place, especially at her birthday party!

And as a florist, Penelope was determined to make sure her arrangements were flawless, even though the celebration was already underway, with the lively chatter of guests enjoying food all around her.

As Penelope's small fingers reached the bloom, she felt the velvety texture of its soft petals. A proud smile spread across her lips. She had spent years breeding the daffodils to achieve the perfect creamy color that her majesty loved so much. And over three months, she had battled the salty air and humidity of the island to grow enough blooms for all the centerpieces. 

That pesky little bloom would not ruin her titanic efforts!

Stretching as much as possible, grunting in discomfort, she finally managed to grab it.

"Why are you stealing? Again?"

Penelope flinched as the flower slipped from her fingers, landing in the punch bowl. Its creamy petals turned red together with one of the laces of her corset. She cast a regretful look at the bloom, which gently navigated the sticky, fruity drink, then she retrieved the lace, trying to clean it up.

The courtiers were already so deep into their festivities, they would never notice the flower, most likely, they would drink it up with the punch.

"I'm not stealing," Penelope mumbled. 

She wasn't so foolish as to repeat the same mistake twice, and she didn't like being reminded of such a shameful episode.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face her friend, who was looking at her with eyebrows raised so high they nearly reached her hairline. Her mahogany hair was meticulously parted and curled in the most elegant style, as expected from the Queen’s personal beauty assistant.

"Pen, we've been working hard for months. Can't we just enjoy tonight?"

Sacharissa reached for Penelope's hand with a tentative smile, her green eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"I'm coming, Ris. Just let me check the last table first," Penelope retreated as she gathered her gown and quickly made her way through the courtiers toward the final composition before her friend could stop her.

Unlike Sacharissa, she didn't like being amidst such a huge crowd. She preferred the solitude of her greenhouses, where she could carefully tend to her plants and hide her face, marred by acne scars from her teenage years.

She had always felt so ugly compared to the clean, smooth faces of the Queen's maids, and not even Sacharissa's beauty poultices had really helped. 

Perhaps they would work if she actually cared to scrub her face with them.

Shaking her head, Penelope reached for the last composition. The flowers were perfectly arranged in their vase. With a satisfied sigh, she turned, searching for a place to hide.

The guests around her, unfazed by her scurrying around, and still sated from the recent meal, lazily awaited the conclusion of the Queen's gift-opening ceremony before beginning the dances in the adjacent room.

Penelope slipped among them until she reached her spot and idly leaned against one of the massive sculptured columns at the side of the central nave. She deftly moved her hands behind her back and pressed her sweaty palms on the cool surface, relishing the refreshing feeling. As the chatter of the guests lowered, her spinning head rested on the sturdy marble, trying to gather the strength to stay awake after the hearty dinner.

Despite her summer dress concealing her sticky skin, she was still sweating under all those layers. Her mind was set on fetching a cold drink and sipping it on the balcony of her little room, reading some book enveloped in the peace and quiet of the night.

But duty held her in place.

She drew in a long breath, hoping to dissipate the mist in her tired mind; the ceremony wasn't finished yet.

The air was still heavy with the lingering scents of the lavish banquet, the fresh and tangy tones of the finest of wines mingling with the spicy aromas of honey-dipped meat and grilled fish. Even the gentle summer breeze blowing in from the open windows, carrying salty and fresh notes from the sea, couldn't quite dissipate them.

Twirling a lock of brown hair that had escaped her simple hairstyle in her finger, Penelope's attention was captured by the roaring announcement of the crier followed by the booming opening of the doors and the irregular clicking of booted feet. 

She rose her gaze, curiosity piqued. 

Limping beneath the bright chandeliers that adorned the hall's high vaulted ceiling, a tall man strode forward. Despite his injury, his gait exuded pride and arrogance, his gaze locked with the Queen's in a daring stare.

He cleared his throat, his confident gaze sweeping around the crowd gathered before him. A hint of a smile curled the corners of his chapped lips, hidden under a bushy brown mustache and a badly shaven beard.

As a flock of excited and inquisitive eyes turned to him, his attention remained solely on her majesty. 

She sat atop her throne, draped in a pink summer dress adorned with frills and puff sleeves—a stark contrast to the displeasure etched on her features. Her dark blue eyes, cold and relentless as stormy sea waves, met his gaze with unwavering intensity. 

Penelope, observing from her corner, noted the restless movement of her small, white teeth as she nervously chewed her bottom lip.

"If she's keeping munching like that, there will be no cream in this realm to straighten her wrinkles, I told her to keep a straight face," the quick remark made Penelope chuckle, as her friend approached her. Sacharissa slouched on the other side of the column, bringing a hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture. 

"Ris, one day you'll be locked up for treason. Her Majesty will find out you're just mocking her."

Sacharissa rolled her eyes, and waved her hand as if swatting the thought away. 

"By the way, who's the gentleman? I never saw him, surely he has some nerve, presenting himself in that attire at the Queen's birthday," she murmured, raising an eyebrow, her tone low, hiding a tinge of worry despite her usual smugness. 

Penelope shot a glance at the man through the odd hairstyles of a few ladies blocking her view; he was just raising up from a bow, inflating his chest to start his speech. She shook her head, she wasn’t sure what it was, but the shiver down her spine didn't suggest anything good.

"Your Majesty," his raspy voice with his thick, foreign accent resonated in the throne room, powerful and thundering, his authoritarian tone making it clear he was a man used to commanding and leading. A tough opponent for her highness.

Immediately the crowd shushed, their attention heightened.

"A pirate," thought Penelope, eyeing the tattered clothes of the man, from his tricorn hat to his shin-long iron heel-reinforced boots. His blue weather-beaten coat, completely worn at the elbows, couldn't hide the stains on his loose, sweaty shirt carelessly open on the front showing a muscled and hairy chest adorned with few deep scars.

Despite not carrying any weapon, the belt across his chest and the sash around his waist were completed with empty sheaths of what seemed to be multiple knives, a cutlass and surely a firearm of some sort. 

Penelope could just imagine a knife hidden in his boots.

Her eyes trailed up again, and as the man opened his arms, she noticed a flower lodged in the front pocket of his coat. 

She scoffed, recognizing one of the white daffodils from her compositions; that moron really stole one of them? 

Of course he did; he was a pirate, after all. 

Anyway, it didn't help his appearance, or what Penelope could only imagine was his awful smell. How he had managed to enter the throne room where they were celebrating was a conundrum she was curious to solve.

The man seemed remarkably at ease in this environment, and the Queen didn't flinch at his presence, keeping her gaze fixed and her hands steady on the armrest of her throne. They must have met before.

But where there was a pirate, there was a crew, and judging from the nervous glances exchanged between the guards at the door, there were likely more waiting outside.

"I bring a gift for the birthday of our majestic and benevolent queen," the man removed his hat and bowed deeply, so deeply that the tip of his nose almost brushed the shiny marble floor. Despite his deference, he didn't break eye contact.

His eyes gleamed maliciously under his brows. As he straightened up, the entire court glanced at the Queen, who simply nodded with a curt, nervous tick of her chin. Her neck was constrained by the white collar around it, another of Sacharissa's tricks to torment her.

The man smiled, a speck of gold glinting in his mouth. As he did so, the long scar trailing down from his left eye to his throat quirked, making his face even eerier.

Suddenly, he turned and raised his arm, bringing his rough fingers—thumb and index—to his tanned and leathery face. He put them in his mouth and let out a powerful, ear-shattering whistle.

"Bring the gift!" he roared, his voice booming in the silent hall.

Immediately, the main door swung open, and eight men, divided into two groups wearing similarly worn-out attire as their captain, made their entrance. One group carried a pedestal of some sort, while the other bore what appeared to be a coffin covered with a long black cloth.

"A treasure chest?" Sacharissa leaned towards Penelope, covering her mouth with her hand.

Penelope squinted her eyes, adjusting her glasses, a treasure chest couldn't be that long and surely wouldn't splash around, as the men advanced in the center of the room leaving a trail of water behind them.

Was it an aquarium? The Queen was fond of tropical fish and always eager to add more to her collection.

A new rare specimen would be the perfect gift for her.

The pedestal was soon adjusted and the coffin on top of it, then the men halted in the center of the hall and waited for more instructions with their hands behind their back, squaring their shoulders and casting smirking looks at the court.

The pirate stood in front of the coffin with a confident smile, his dark eyes gleaming. 

He surely was ready for some performance.

"Your majesty, because of the benevolence you bestow upon us, I, Captain Rookwood, want to repay you with a gift that you will find undeniably precious due to its rarity., which rarity you'll find undeniably precious." 

The revelers held their breath as the man snatched the black cloth and it slid down revealing a fish tank full of water.

Time seemed to stop as the eyes of the whole court were glued to the tank and its marvelous contents. They held their breath and gaped in astonishment, the haziness from the dinner now completely gone.

Penelope widened her gaze, she couldn't believe her eyes and quickly cleaned her glasses on her dress.

She had heard of such creatures, but actually seeing one?

In fact, in the tank, laying down on the smooth surface there was…

"A merman!" 

"It's a merman!" 

The voices around the court rose in waves, whispering in agitation, buzzing like bees in overcrowded hives. It was indeed a merman.

Penelope shook her head and blinked in disbelief, fascinated by the captivating view, Sacharissa next to her cussed under her breath repressing a gasp. The young woman's utmost surprise was soon replaced by a sense of anguish and pity.

It was a great gift, but what a price!

The creature was astonishingly beautiful, with a long, sinuous tail, covered in greenish and bluish scales, gleaming under the flickering candles and reverberating in a kaleidoscope of different hues, magnified by the glass.

The transparent fins at the tip were gently swaying in the water, but it was obvious the tank was too small for the poor creature since it was all constricted and contorted in the confined space with his arms squashed against the crystal surface.

The tail became thicker as it enveloped the bottom part of the merman and the scales didn't stop there, but trailed up his waist, adorning his stomach and his arms. As they reached his broad chest, they became rarer, scattering like smaller pebbles or seashells on a white beach.

Penelope's eyes finally traveled up to his face. He was of a stunning beauty, chiseled features on pale skin, contrasting with red, vibrant hair, floating gently in the water like anemones in the current. She couldn't discern his eyes, but he held a downcast expression that made her heart ache.

He wasn't happy to be there for sure, to be on display for everyone to see, like a prey amidst rabid predators.

Having caught everyone‘s attention, Captain Rookwood locked gaze with the Queen once more, and circling the tank started to explain how they had captured him, his voice exuding insufferable arrogance. It was a very upsetting story about a wild chase around some islands in the middle of a sea teeming with monsters and after days they had managed to finally seize him.

Judging from the size of the merman's tail, Penelope could only imagine how powerful it was under water, surely Rookwood and his crew didn't have an easy time chasing him.

The captain told his tale with a complacent look, finally hinting at the injury on his leg, just to add a dramatic touch. He then reached the point of the tank where the face of the merman was pressed against the glass, his breath forming a cloud of steam against the cold surface, red cuts under his throat —his gills— gaping in the stale water.

Penelope wondered if he had enough oxygen in the tank, noting the absence of even a trace of algae. She was used to understanding other creatures' needs at first glance, just as she did with her plants.

"And this is not the only surprise I have," Rookwood's smirk widened in a toothy golden grin that made Penelope's skin crawl. That wasn't the end of the show, a show the pirate was surely well accustomed to.

The captain knocked on the tank, keeping his eyes glued on the Queen's face.

As he did so, he took a step back, the front glass panel of the tank tipped over and the water rolled down with a splash, eliciting cries of surprise from the surrounding crowd, who promptly retreated.

The room soon filled with the briny scent of sea water, laced with a tinge of sour, while everyone was busy protecting themselves from the splashes, with the ladies gathering their skirts up their ankles and the men saving their shiny boots. 

Penelope felt the sole of her shoes drenched, and she carefully raised on tiptoe to shift position, while Sacharissa next to her was straining herself from cussing out loud. 

They both exchanged a look of exasperation: those were their only good clothes,  prepared for the occasion, and surely they weren't keen on ruining them.

When Penelope's gaze finally returned to the tank, she couldn't believe her eyes: the merman wasn't there anymore.

In his place there was a young man in his twenties. A naked, afraid and handsome man.

He was crouched on the ground with his hands braced to the marble floor for support, casting careful and anguished looks around.

Shivering lightly, with drops from the tank rolling down his tense body, catching the flickering candlelight. His long tail wasn't there anymore, replaced by a pair of muscular legs, with thick thighs, as if the scales had melted once out of the water. 

His vibrant red hair was now plastered to his face, reaching his neck in soft tendrils and framing his pale face with wide eyes which darted around filled with fear and uncertainty.

Where scales had once been, his skin was now covered in a myriad of freckles scattered all over his body. To Penelope's dismay, bluish, eerie bruises and charred scars marred his skin together with the soft spots.

Her heart sank, and she had to steady herself, bracing against the column in an attempt to not faint as blood rushed to her head, causing a dizzying feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.

Despite her weakness, Penelope forced herself to stand still. As she raised her gaze again, she sensed the young man's embarrassment amidst the hungry stares of the court. Whispers grew louder, with guests openly judging his naked form and making remarks that veered from appreciation to blatant insult.

At one nod from the captain, one of the men took him by the arm, urging him to stand up. As he hoisted him, the merman’s legs trembled violently; he wasn't used to them and he seemed exhausted, the weight of his body pressing down on them. However, the pirate paid no heed; he prodded the young man's flank, prompting a gasp as he struggled to stand upright. 

His forlorn look deepened, his eyes betraying a mix of anguish and resignation, as if he had long since given up hope of escape.

Penelope bit her lip and averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing, while the ladies in front of her exchanged coquettish giggles and winking glances behind their fans. 

Disgusted by their attitude, she turned toward the Queen, who was unfazed by the young man's nudity as she studied his features intently.

The captain surely knew how to captivate her interest.

"Does it speak?" Finally, the Queen asked.

'It', Penelope's stomach turned as she clenched her hands in tight fists; she was treating him like one of her pets already.

Undoubtedly, she was already dreaming of throwing him into her aquarium and watching him swim in the confined place, only to fish him up every now and then to entertain her court. As she did with all of them.

He would certainly be a fine show for the grumpy ambassadors of foreign lands.

"It doesn't, your majesty. It has never spoken to us, but it surely can sing, as one of my men swears to have spotted him while singing," replied Captain Rookwood confidently.

At his gesture, one of his men brought him a whip, and unwinding it, he gripped its leathery handle. "Let's see if we can make it sing for you, my Queen," he tilted his head with a malicious, slanted smile.

Penelope's heart ached, foreseeing what was going to happen. 

The young man's skin, with all his cuts and bruises, told a tale too easy to guess. 

"Sing," Rookwood commanded, his voice booming in the high vaulted ceiling of the hall, but the merman remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ground, his sopping red hair hanging down, covering his face. 

As the whip hissed, Penelope turned her head, closing her eyes and bracing herself. The air froze around her as another sharp blow was delivered and everybody around her held their breath. 

It felt like winter now and the festive atmosphere of the lavish banquet was long gone, eclipsed as swiftly as the tide recedes from the shore.

Her stomach was now heavy with dread rather than food and she felt nausea threatening to overwhelm her.

"Pen, he's not hitting him," Sacharissa whispered into her ear.

Penelope raised her eyes, following the scene in front of her with bated breath and a parched mouth, drier than the sand. Surely, the captain wouldn't dare to ruin the Queen's gift, but by the way the young man was shivering, it was clear he was accustomed to tasting the leather of the whip on his skin—the marks on his body told a clear tale. Additionally, he seemed terrorized by it, his broad shoulders shrinking, keeping his eyes low, concentrating on the slippery floor as if he wished to melt into the pool at his feet.

As the Captain spoke again, urging the men to walk, he slipped on the floor and before he could regain his balance, the pirate hit him, this time for real. The echo of the whip hitting skin was only surpassed by the sound of a sword slipping from the grasp of one of the guards next to the entrance.

Penelope locked eyes with the embarrassed guard, his brown eyes full of resentment under the helm. She knew she wasn't the only one revulsed by the situation.

As Rookwood kept talking, Penelope realized she couldn't bear it any longer. Gathering her gowns, she took a step forward. "Ris, do you still have that sleeping draught of yours?" her voice barely leaving her lips. 

"Of course, it's in the first drawer of the dresser next to the window," Sacharissa murmured. "Don't finish it, I'll need it," she added, casting a weary look at the scene in front of her. Maybe the thought of dancing the night away wasn’t that appealing anymore.

Penelope nodded, and with a final greeting, she swiftly left the room. 

As she passed the door, the guard from before exchanged a knowing look with her.