#cucumber mouse

[random-mica-person]

This is peanut butter. they are friend shaped

I fucking love ferrets but they are a pain to draw aaaa

Good news! If you fucking love ferrets too and would like merch of peanut butter, you can get some on my redbubble :>

[lynxgriffin]

🐁

*pets the rat and offers it cucumbers to nibble on*

[animusbell]

gay noise blaster

[sillygoober-13]

Me when my favorite character appears on screen

[clawdee]

Hehe

[cottonpuffmouse]

It’s taken me like…two years to realize he’s making this face because his horse just won and now he’s not going to be able to collect the money.

[terribly-late-for-tea]

Aaaand Retrokid.ca is about to rob me blind... again...

[barryduncan]

Cucamelon Pickles Cucamelons, also known as mouse melons, are tiny melons with a cucumber-like flavor that make excellent pickles.

[xmoriartea]

SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration 2: Electric Boogaloo

a continuation of this nonsense that ya'll seemed to enjoy

While Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe hold hands and jump into the abyss, Airplane is left holding no pizza with the sect on fire (and him-damnit. He could really use a pizza right now)

Shang Qinghua helped organize the Immortal Alliance Conference fiasco, but with his brother's guidance and Mobei Jun's shocking willingness to listen to both of them, Cang Qiong suffers only two losses that day: LBH and SY (none of the other major sects are so lucky, shifting even more power into Cang Qiong (and thus SQH/MBJ)'s sway as they planned)

Shen Jiu (named Qingqiu now ofc, but still Jiu-ge to SY) does not handle his part in this well at all. Did he shove LBH into the abyss? He would say no. He just maneuvered an awakening and unstable Heavenly Demon away from his brother. (Bro did NOT account for said brother to throw himself at LBH and basically take both their asses into the abyss. Not even Airplane saw that one coming tbqfh)

So yeahhh. SJ is not handling this well. While his brother is missing SJ qi deviates no less than two times which has Qing Ding and every peak lord walking on eggshells. No one mentions either of his missing disciples unless absolutely necessary around him. Unfortunately, he spends entirely too much time researching the abyss, tearing through every tome on the peaks

When the lords try to discuss a way to help SJ's instability, the mention of dual cultivation is floated once and while YQY is hand on the trigger to volunteer as tribute, the vehement refusal from SJ has YQY declaring it off limits without hesitation (there are some murmurs about this, but YQY takes pride in protecting SJ and shuts everyone down)

Airplane and SY know each other well enough that he knows SY would be devastated if something happened to SJ (he knows SY had siblings, that he misses them, that his heart aches twice for the family here and home and he won't let him come back to an empty bamboo house. Airplane knows the pain of an empty home and he will find something in his brain to fix it)

This leads to one tense conversation with SJ like "Look I know you fucking hate me but for SY's sake please just listen one time: your brother is coming home. I don't know how exactly, but we both know he's too stubborn not to" (this does not endear him to his villain son, but he would swear SJ glares a little less at him after)

There is then a Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom tier research saga but it's Airplane alone digging through tomes and notes and getting a little xianxia stoned to try and remember the obscure world building he created. (You know what he remembers? That's he created TOO MUCH world building shit while three energy drinks deep at 2am for any one man to remember!! Cucumber-bro get back here!!)

Meanwhile MBJ is playing a differently game entirely while every cultivator is stressed out of their minds. He's got a spy who is assisting him with power grabs that his father would never have imagined. He's courting a pathetic little mouse of a man. LBH is not a name that means anything yet. MBJ is THRIVING. Everyone else is in a drama and he's in a dating sim

And with two Shangs? The first time he does something too aggressive-demonic in his attempt to court a flailing sleep deprived Airplane, SQH is there to be like 'wtf do you think you're doing you beast?' Does SQH nearly get his ass beat for this insult to his king? Maybe a little bit. But!! Airplane gets woo'd! Without bloodshed!! (his own anyway. SQH picks his battles and cannot pry MBJ's desire to hunt big, rare game to prove his worth as a partner to Airplane which ofc leads to moments of the Shang brothers just standing over the corpse of some ancient-possibly-mythical beast just... in their living room on An Ding like 'wtf do we do with this? my king pls')

Of course, the plot finds everyone eventually. And however the fuck it happens, MBJ crosses path with a power-grabbing LBH, is forced to surrender to return home alive to his consort-to-be (MBJ is waiting for the MBJ title to be 100% his before cementing the courtship), becomes second in command to this brat, and goes home to his Shangs to lick his wounds (MBJ does not expect Airplane to shake his face and demand to know if there was a human cultivator with this half-demon brat and then demand to be taken to them if so when MBJ just 'wtf' stares)

Turns out, several years in the abyss even for the protagonist and a man who knows far too fucking much about abyss nuances for a human is still not an easy time Being human in the abyss? It's a dinner bell for every big monster that SY wants to just observe like the worst tourist. LBH cannot figure out why his shixiong keeps putting himself in danger like this (shixiong!! if you know the deadly thing is hiding in this swamp what if!!! we didn't!! go in the goddamn swamp shixiong!!!) But! That abyss knowledge is hard to beat. SY is able to guide LBH through safe routes and help guide him on his demonic journey (LBH ofc asks how his shixiong knows about any of this and SY panic changes subjects like a dozen times. Even in the back of LBH's head Meng Mo is like 'kid IDFK what this brat is but it's not normal and I need you to 1. understand that and 2. do not let him get away') And you know what is great for SY (and by extension LBH)? SY isn't juggling a persona that isn't his. He's allowed to come to terms with himself and his feelings on his terms. He gets to watch his white lotus LBH fight alongside him in the abyss and save his life and oh. OH. Maybe. Maybe he can have this? (SY being SY is still like PLOT EXISTS!! HAREM!! WIVES!! And look. He figures his own shit out a little bit, he's still a blind bastard. He doesn't notice how many wife plots he and LBH have stumbled into together, or how many LBH has skipped entirely. He can just be part of the harem, that's fine. He can live with that. Totally normal thoughts) LBH meanwhile can't even spell harem cause he only has eyes for this weird wonderful shixiong of his Given that the plot is a mess (happening, sure, but a MESS) they stumble into a new wife plot in the abyss (How was SY supposed to know full humans triggered nonsense plots down here?? It's not like LBH's human wives were ever down here with him!!) and so SY might be dying a second time. (Whoops! Whoops! Whoops! (Hey System? STFU if you have nothing useful to offer thank you!!!) But you know what could help this mortal cultivator trapped in the abyss? Demon qi. You know who has a lot of demon qi he doesn't know what to do with?? Best boy Binghe, that's who (they're both young and awkward and SY is dying and Binghe can't lose him. He can't be left alone again. It's declaration and promise and hope and when he kisses his shixiong he wills the transfer of qi between their lips and he can feel the way SY grows stronger in his arms with it) Let's just say that even when they clear the realm of the abyss that threatened SY, LBH still persistently insists that his shixiong share his qi mwah! (SY does not put up half as much complaint as he once might have over his sticky shidi) Also you know SY is going to find some horrific abyssal monstrosity and decide it's just the best and cutest most perfect and loyal pet (it's an honest to god nightmare and everyone they encounter is afraid of it and Binghe shoots it glares whenever it steals his shixiong's affections HOW DARE??) With SY's omnipotent abyss GPS sense and LBH sharing his excess of demon qi with SY, they're able to find Xin Mo, break the seal on LBH's powers, and then continue on his training montage (definitely too unstable to go back to the mortal realm early), also he has a fantastic anchor in SY at his side to soothe the Xin Mo urges and (don't ask shidi, pls he's begging) also teach him how to tame the sword

Cut back to several years of time passing, Airplane squishing his king's face, demanding to know about a human cultivator with this heavenly demon only for MBJ to (still face squished) say he wouldn't call the man at LBH's side human per se but if this is what his Airplane wants, he will take him with him to the meeting LBH has arranged for the following day (now please, let him pout and huff and receive head scritches)

Hey you know how people always get taken aback by Xie Lian being just absolutely filled with ghost qi??? SY is a cultivator, not a god, just a lad trying his best to follow that immortal master path, and he just spent SEVERAL years in the abyss and getting regularly dosed by HEAVENLY demon qi — this boy ain't right anymore, guys. He's definitely feeling some kind of demon-tier different™ after all of this and man is THRIVING because Now That's What SY Calls Lore

Please imagine heavenly demon LBH with a demon-touched SY holding demon court with their weird demon allies when MBJ shows up flanked by two totally human Shangs and the just.... the awkward staring these four members of Cang Qiong do at each other (LBH, oblivious to the spy on the mountain plots, just 'why tf is Shang-shixiong and Shang-shifu here??) (SQH looking at LBH and SY and just taking furious mental notes about these Developments and how this may affect his brother's safety) (SY and Airplane just seconds away from slapping the shit out of each other like cats in a bag just 'where the fuck have you been???' 'what have you done???')

Court gets to proceed as planned, but Consorts Shen and Shang make hasty exits together to figure out just what the fuck has been happening to Airplane's plot (There is minimal sibling-tier beat downs in the process and neither is free from sin)

Airplane explains that SJ is a mess and that they need to do something if SY wants to continue having a brother ('bro, he will go off the deep end soon if he doesn't find you but if he finds you like this BRO WILL GO OFF THE DEEP END!! DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM??')

Their scheming gets them on the idea the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom and between both their whipped demons, it's very easy to acquire it, cultivate it, and prepare it for SJ (ofc monster loving son SY shares some with a cute snake he sees, obviously)

SY sneaks onto Qiong Ding with their near ready science project and meets with YQY who is... not thrilled with the demonic influence all over his shidi's brother. But he listens, because end of the day they both care for SJ. SY can't risk SJ having another deviation if he sees him, so he entrusts YQY to present this fix to SJ: a way to repair his broken core and shed the scars of his past (ofc they both know he will be suspicious, but after doing his own research, he would take it in a heartbeat)

When SJ has a shiny new and powerful body, that's when LBH and SY return to the sect. No demon army, no attacks, no Huan Hua bs. Just two lost disciples making their return from the abyss. (There is much distrust. SQH plays his role as well as ever, siding with the other lords that certain tests must be passed to ensure they are not demons--- oh wait one of you IS a demon. and the other has been influenced by that one. Mhhh. Mhmmm. This is fiiiiiine)

SJ doesn't deviate! But he is! Mad! There is much yelling and shouting and disciples are made to run around Qiong Ding peak while every other lord just has to sit through the most chaotic family reunion.

But things can go back to normal from here right? Just casual transmigration, not plot threats? (System? System you're laughing. They're having a nice moment and you're laughing)

[hellisnowlove]

Side Dish - Canning and Preserving - Cucamelon Pickles

[daisyblog]

Suspect Challenge

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN and Louis do the TikTok ‘Suspect Challenge’.

YN begins the video by recording Louis jogging lightly down the enclosed garden on their grandparents house.

“Suspect claims to be 5ft 9 but is really 5ft 7!”.

YN bursts into laughter behind the camera as Louis gives her an unimpressed look, as he pretends to be hurt by the teasing.

“You’re fookin’ rude!”. Louis’ run comes to a halt as he points towards his sister, waiting for her to stop laughing.

Louis now ran alongside YN as she ran down the path, looking ahead waiting for her brother to speak.

“Suspect only dates her brothers friends!”.

YN gave Louis a frown as she turned to face him, ready to correct him. “Fook off Lou…it was one friend and it’s been like thirteen years!”.

“Still me best mate though!”. Louis shrugged his shoulders as he bumped into his sister playfully.

“Suspect likes to act tough, but really he’s a big softie!”.

“Hey…that’s suppose to be a secret!”. Louis childishly stamped his foot as he and YN shared a laugh over his sarcasm.

“Oops!”.

“Suspect claims to like other singers but really only listens to One Direction!”.

YN holds her hands up in surrender. “Oh waw! What a fookin’ crime”.

“Such a fan girl!”.

“Suspect forgets the words to his own songs!”.

“Ohh give me a fookin’ break will you? How many songs do I have? Can’t remember every single one of them”. Louis chuckled loudly at his sister’s attempt of calling him out on the many times he’s forgotten the words when singing.

YN couldn’t stop herself from adding to the comment. “But your fans can remember every word to every song and album!”.

“Fook off smart ass!”.

“Suspect is obsessed with her husband!”.

“Hell fookin’ yeah I am…have you seen him…absolutely-”. YN’s face lit up with happiness as she thought about Harry.

Louis interrupted knowing YN wouldn’t stop once she started. “Yeah yeah we get it!”.

“Suspect only knows how to cook one meal!”.

“You’re jealous of me amazing cooking skills”. Louis lovingly pointed at YN. “Have you seen me chopping up a cucumber…absolute chef!”.

YN rolled her eyes at his words. “Master chef eat your heart out!”.

Tag List:

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[freewayshark]

Evan and the Dreamboat

bucktommy - rated g - 6k words

“Maybe I’ll meet the love of my life today.”

Maddie gives him that pursed mouth smile she’s so annoyingly good at. Buck would never tell her, but he’s practiced it in the mirror. He just looks constipated when he tries it.

She makes a show of looking around the empty spa lobby. “Sure. Maybe they’re tiny, like a Borrower, and we need to check the baseboards for perfectly arched mouse holes.”

In fairness, this idea of waking up one morning and walking face first into a kismet kind of love has sort of become his new refrain in the months since his relationship with Natalia fizzled out. So Maddie’s used to it, and has no qualms about using her big sister privilege to tease him mercilessly.

“Go ahead. Laugh away. One of these days I’ll say it and it’ll be true.”

She just smiles again, and sips her cucumber water.

read the rest on ao3

[alfredosauce50]

Night at the Museum

[America x reader]

Rating: M Word count: 5, 887 Synopsis: You and Alfred decide to visit New York’s Museum of Natural History for old time’s sake. In a stroke of bad luck, you two get locked in overnight, unaware and unprepared for the dangers lurking within. It’s where history comes alive, and he ends up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a bloodthirsty warlord. The whole time, he’s also wrestling with his feelings for you, and he doesn’t know which is harder. Solipsism: knowledge of anything outside one’s own mind is unsure; the external world and other minds cannot be known and might not exist outside the mind.

“The more you know about the past, the better prepared you are for the future.” — Theodore Roosevelt

“Man, we haven’t been here since we were little kids,” Alfred took it all in as he made it inside, to where he was greeted by the skeleton of Tyrannosaurus rex in an awe-inspiring pose. With its head bowed toward the entrance, he and other patrons were greeted by a set of razor-sharp teeth grinning down with a hunger for the ages. “I wonder if anything’s changed. Probably a lot.”

“A bunch of stuff, actually. But it looks like they did a huge revamp on all the wax figures,” You lifted your gaze from a brochure you collected from the front. The museum of natural history wasn’t half as impressive as the Smithsonian, but it had a special place in both of your hearts. “They’re meant to be super realistic now. You know, the whole ‘history comes alive’ pizazz.”

“Huh. Then what would be the difference between here and Madame Tussaud’s?” He glanced at you.

“The people here are worth remembering.”

“Good point.”

As local New Yorkers, it was tradition to come back every once in a while. Yellow cabs, subway crazies, and the best pizza in the world — there was no other city quite like the Big Apple, and you two decided to swing by during your semester break to reconnect with your roots. Needless to say, it was nice to get away from the upbeat chaos of life on campus.

“You think you’re gonna go to Arthur’s Christmas party?” He asked you, peering around the room of American history. There was a shining stagecoach pulled by four black horses, mannequins in confederate and union uniforms with their guns trained at each other, a giant moose, and eagles watching over everything else.

“Well, we kinda have to. Can you imagine how upset he’d be if we didn’t? He’d probably be heartbroken.”

“Yeah, but I get crazy diarrhea every time.” He scoffed, eyes wide as he recalled blowing up the toilet last year.

”You don’t have to remind me.” You shuddered.

“I know, I was just saying. I was thinking we could go somewhere fun,” Alfred gave you an expectant look as he tried to sell you on it. “We could go skating, or just watch a movie back at my place. What do you say?”

“Hm, I don’t know. I’m really craving his scones.”

“Seriously?” 

”But not as much as our time together,” You smiled, watching him light up. Taking his hand, you pulled him along and said this with a laugh. “I’d rather go to the dumpster with you than the Met. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah.” He softened his gaze. You said that, but the way you held his hand said otherwise. Or was it because you two were that close? Either way, he was starting to go down the pipeline he swore that he wouldn’t.

”Are you okay?” You asked.

”Yeah, I’m fine.” He adjusted his glasses.

“Wanna kiss it better?” You swung his arm playfully.

Alfred glared at you as the only diversion from the fact that he was blushing. It was so like you to say things like that. You were attractive, and you knew it. With your sense of humor, it made for a dangerous game. But he’d been playing it for a while. He covered your entire face with his hand, then pushed you down to a nearby bench in one clean movement.

”Hey!” 

“Hey yourself.” Alfred walked off with his hands in his pockets, as cool as a cucumber.

This might’ve been all fun and games with you, but you weren’t the loneliest animal on the planet here. Not that it made his feelings for you any less real. He liked you, and not because you were an idea in his head.

You were real, every strange thought and neuron of your imagination. You could be as sharp as a tack when you wanted to be. He loved your mind and the way it worked, or at least when you weren’t tantalizing him.

“Remember when we were little we used to take baths together?” You sprung up out of the blue.

”Barely.” Alfred exhaled, wildly unprepared for what just came out of your mouth. But before he reacted any further, he reminded himself just who he was talking to. “That’s probably why we did it in the first place. Why?”

You were sleeping over that time, as you always did every Friday after your philosophy class. Your things were strewn all over his bedroom, like a half-eaten cup noodle, some snacks, and the clothes you brought over.

While he browsed the rest of the displays in the room, he let himself get immersed in that particular memory.

That was when you caught up with him again, even having the nerve to smile up at him with ‘hehe’ written all over your face. He glowered down at you, but really, he was just happy that you were by his side again.

You had a thirty second rebound before doing or saying the next pain in the ass thing, but he forgave you even faster than that. And it had been that way since horseshoe crabs were the only thing roaming the Earth.

”You think we could fit in the bathtub?”

“If you’re asking if I wanna take a bath with you, it’s an immediate no. We’re way too old for that.”

“You don’t have to be such a prude,” You mumbled, rolling your head away. “I was just wondering.”

“I’m not a prude.” He grumbled.

“And it’s not like I haven’t seen your dick before.”

“Yeah, when I was little!” 

“Can’t imagine it’s grown much since then.”

He glared at the ceiling, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of seeing how embarrassed he was.

As much as he’d like to pull his pants down to prove you wrong, he didn’t. Someone had to uphold a sense of decency around here, even if that person had to be him, the worst possible example of it, if he was one at all.

“If you’re done, I’m gonna go to sleep,” He sat up and twisted around to fluff up his pillow. You were starting to drift off by then, but he didn’t let you off so easily. “Don’t let me catch you peeking or I’ll molest you.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, geez.”

And to think he used to be such a cute kid, kicking his ball over your fence just so he could come over to play. You both grew up since then, and with that, came his awful sense of humor among other things.

But if you asked him, he learned from the best.

“You know the nicest people make the best Nazis?” You asked, walking by a glass display of three wax figures. Sakagawea, a young Shoshone woman who guided Lewis and Clarke on their expedition to the Pacific.

“Do they?” He narrowed his eyes in interest.

“Nice people look the other way and just wanna get along with everybody else.” You said, towing him along. “Have the whole country doing that, plus a heap of propaganda, you could get away with anything.”

“Well, if I was a German, I wouldn’t buy into it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alfred frowned, genuinely offended. “I’m not a freakin’ racist.”

”Being scorned is your kryptonite,” You pointed out, getting him to roll his eyes. So he didn’t like to deviate from standards, and being a raving right-wing was one at the time. “And trust me when I say you would be.”

”That’s why the second amendment exists,” He smiled sagely with a hint of mischief. “If the government was to push some crazy agenda into us, the rednecks wouldn’t have it. We shape society to what we want.”

”What if the society you want isn’t the society someone else wants?” You asked, stopping in front of an exhibit of a male Algonquin warrior. “We all worship something. What’s normal to you might be crazy for someone else.”

”I guess you’re right,” He agreed, gazing upon the person who lived — and believed — in things drastically different than did. His brows came together as he marveled at the man who stood over him, a chief’s son who had been dead for well over a thousand years.

Allen was his name. He had striking scarlet eyes, dark maroon hair, tawny brown skin, and a toned body from a life of hunting and gathering. As he stared out into the middle distance, there was something uncanny about him, like he could come alive at any second, but didn’t.

“What do you think this guy worshipped?” Alfred murmured faintly, strangely captivated by him.

It was humbling to be in the presence of all of these historical figures, but intimidating to imagine them as people who existed. He was a history nut, and one thing he understood was how astonishingly cruel and violent the past could be. From the swashbuckling tales of the Wild West to the burning sands of Ancient Egypt, everything was best enjoyed from the comforts of his modern American home. Or in this case, a museum.

Where all of the exhibits were mere imitations of the long dead and gone, it would take no less than a miracle for any of them to come back to life. Little did he know, a miracle was exactly what he’d be in for tonight. 

You two poked around some more, eventually ending up in the Northern European section of the museum. Nothing really stood out to him besides the Vikings, who also caught the attention of the general public.

“This man was the greatest viking to have ever lived. Mathias Densen, the king of Danes,” A guide showed off a wax exhibit to a crowd of tourists. You and Alfred were among them, having taken the liberty to tune in.

Some took pictures, others whispered amongst themselves at the impressive lookalike made to imitate a legend out of the sagas. He had blonde hair swept up in the front in an unruly mane, and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. With his arm raised and axe in hand, he was frozen in time, suspended in a pose so natural, it looked like he’d bring it down at any given moment.

“He was the most feared warrior in all of Scandinavia. When he threw an axe at his enemy, he never missed. But all blood and gore aside, he will go down in history as one of the best leaders and explorers of all time.”

”Wouldn’t wanna get him angry, huh?” Alfred gave you a side-eye, returning his gaze to the information plate. That was when he saw a portrait of a woman who was supposedly the only one who could go toe-to-toe with his ruthlessness. “You know, she kinda looks like you.”

”Really?” You leaned over. “I don’t see it.”

”No way. You guys are like twins!” He exclaimed.

“Maybe just the eyes.”

“Maybe she’s your long-lost ancestor or something.”

After another hour of walking around and talking, you and Alfred left to get to the exit. It was approaching closing time, and you two were among the last to leave. A security guard stood near the revolving doors, bidding farewell to guests. But before he could acknowledge you two, Alfred stopped and patted around his shirt.

“Shit, I left my glasses.” He winced.

Neither of you two thought it would’ve been problem to go back and retrieve them at the time. Who would’ve thought they’d made the security so much tighter that it would end up the biggest mistake of your lives?

After sweeping room after room, he eventually found them on the ground next to a bench. Sliding them onto his nose, he picked up a brisk jog as he made his way back downstairs. But by then, it was too late.  

“Now let’s get out before we get locked in.”

”Don’t jinx us.” 

”Not gonna happen.” 

And he said that so confidently too. Because when he pushed at the revolving door, it didn’t budge. 

”What’s wrong?” You asked from behind. 

“Nothing, just give me a sec…” He rattled it a few more times, but to no avail. Then, he let out a heavy breath as he admitted the one thing he thought could never happen. “… Okay, I think we’re locked in.”

“You’re joking.” You blurted.

You brushed past him to give the door a strong shake, needing that same taste of defeat before believing it yourself. Sure enough, it was locked shut, and would likely stay locked all the way up til morning.

“Oh my God, we are. What are we gonna do?”

”Call the cops.” He suggested, pulling out his phone to dial 9-11. After a few tries, to which he stared at you tensely with it pressed up to his ear, he found that the call kept failing. “Annnnd the cops aren’t picking up.”

“Well, keep trying! Call Arthur or something.” 

For the next thirty minutes, you both paced around while trying to reach local government services, then friends or loved ones. It slowly became apparent that you two weren’t getting out anytime soon.

You weren’t the type to express it, let alone say it, but you were getting scared and uncomfortable.

So was he, but like hell he’d let it show. Not because he didn’t have the balls to admit it, but it was the last thing you needed right now. You weren’t looking at him, and he knew in an instant that you were on the verge.

“We’re not gonna make it out, are we?”

Alfred was crushed with so much guilt, he couldn’t even react when the lights dimmed, plunging the museum into a pitch-black darkness. His eyes stayed wide with remorse, even when he couldn’t see you anymore.

In that moment, he came over and hugged you as tight as he could, lips pursed in a deep frown. It wasn’t every day that he could hold you like this, but he set aside every shard of his shattered ego to do it.

Even if he had to do it in the dark.

There couldn’t be a better metaphor for his feelings. Alfred had always been too afraid to tell you how he felt, and if he did, he’d do it in a way that was hidden from plain sight. This was one of those times.

It was one thing to admit he was scared. It was another to say he was sorry. But telling you how much you truly meant to him was damn near impossible. So instead of doing any of the above, he let you sleep on him.

He had his back on a cold hard bench while you drifted away. There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight, but this was just his karma. So he stayed like that for the next few hours, to which you began to stir. 

“You good?” He asked in a soft murmur.

”Yeah,” You rubbed your eyes. “Just a little thirsty.”

”I’m pretty sure there’s a fountain outside.” He helped you up, putting on his glasses. “I’ll come with you.” 

”No, it’s fine.” You sighed, getting up to leave the room. 

”Hey,” Alfred softened his gaze, getting you to slow to a stop. He was so exhausted, all of his walls were coming down. And he couldn’t stand to bottle it up inside him any longer. “I’m sorry, okay? This was all my fault.”

”It’s okay. We can’t all be born perfect.” You cracked a smile, walking off. But the happy note only lasted so long once you got to the hallway outside. It was so dark, you could barely see the ground beneath you.

With nothing but the wall lamps to illuminate the empty halls, the institution turned into nothing but a graveyard: a dim labyrinth of the long dead and gone. And like all graveyards, there were ghosts.

The black outline of wax figures lined your peripherals, and you gazed at them nervously as you made your way to the fountain. After a few satisfying gulps, you began making your way back to the room. That was when you heard the echo of footsteps in the distance, too far away to have made sense at the time. Someone was at the end of the hall, and it couldn’t have been Alfred.

“Hello?” You called out to the source.

The shadow of a man appeared around the corner, the details of his wild, upswept hair showing up on the wall. When he revealed himself, he was covered head to toe in thick fur pelts and armor. Your eyes went wide ever so slowly, heart racing as you were struck with this realization. He was a spitting image of the viking you’d seen on display, but he wasn’t just an inanimate statue made of colored wax and glue. He was moving.

Breathing. 

He was alive.

Alfred waited patiently for you to come back, though he regretted letting you go out by yourself. It wasn’t like there was anything out there, but you must’ve been afraid under that bravado you showed him. If only he knew how wrong he’d been. As he sat on the bench, the museum slowly came to life. All of its waxy inhabitants, people gone for centuries, returned from the dead.

And the lights came back on, one by one.

The Viking’s chest heaved for the air that hadn’t filled his lungs in eons. And with eyes as blue as the oceans he sailed across, he stared at you like he had just seen a ghost. They had a light in them they never had before, a consciousness, a soul, and you stared right back. But the way he looked at you was like nothing you’d expect. There wasn’t a trace of hostility in his gaze, but something deeply emotional and coherent.

Not that any of that mattered to you.

You split, running from him as fast as you could and with more adrenaline than what you thought was humanly possible. But then again, what you witnessed was a testament to the impossible. The dead walked, and you were trapped in here with hundreds of them. Whipping your head over your shoulder, you let out a frightened cry when you saw him chasing you. 

Your screams echoed down the hall, and Alfred felt his blood go cold hearing them. But he forced himself to stand, and without a shred of hesitation, he ran outside to look for you. When you weren’t by the fountain, his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. And his face, now whiter than a sheet of paper. Where did you go?

“(F/N)!” He yelled, sprinting down the hall.

But more importantly, what was it that made you scream? Whatever it was, he knew he’d never forgive himself if something happened to you. The lights were now on, and he swore he could hear the tapping of what sounded like hundreds of footsteps. There was something around the corner, or someone, he just never would’ve anticipated it beyond his wildest imagination.

“Where are you?” Once be got around the turn, what he saw put a stopper to his thoughts, derailing them with the most fantastical thing he had ever seen. His eyes flew open, and his mouth went agape so he could let out a shaky breath. “What the hell is going on?”

Swathes of people dressed in cultural adornments and even objects were out and about, talking to each other in languages he couldn’t even begin to decipher. Inuits, African tribesmen, and Edwardian socialites walked along the halls like time had just shattered upon itself. Marble sculptures, copper statues, and other pieces of art were moving about like they weren’t made of some kind of rock. There was even a Terracotta soldier, who was accompanied by a Chinese dragon made entirely out of green jade. Elephants, rhinos, and giraffes passed by in a strangely calm fashion like this wasn’t their first rodeo in the museum. Everyone did, except for him. 

“No way.” He whispered, glancing left to right as he picked up a jog. If he wasn’t wrong, everything in the museum had come to life. Was he dreaming? He had to be. In his dazed stupor, he ran into a medieval knight. There was a loud clank, and he would’ve winced from how much it hurt if it weren’t for being spoken to. 

“Excuse me. Watch where you’re going!” 

“Sorry!” He blurted. “I’m so sorry.”

”That’s alright! But you look a bit pale there, kid. What seems to be the problem?” The knight questioned, still wearing his helmet and hiding his face. Aside from his silver armor, he wore pure white garments with a blood red cross — the signature outfit of a crusader knight.

“Oh, um, where do I start?” Alfred panted, speaking in a frazzled manner. Funnily enough, this was the straightest he’d been thinking now that someone was talking to him. “Oh, I know! How the hell is everyone and everything in this museum alive right now?”

“I’d normally have a better answer, but I’ve never read anything like this in the Bible,” The other scratched their head through their helmet inquisitively. “Maybe I missed a chapter. But honestly, I’m just as lost as you are.”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“The Bible. The word of God. Haven’t you heard of it?”

”I know what the Bible is!” Alfred raised his voice into a frustrated hiss, but he instantly felt bad for it. “Sorry. I’m talking to a monk, here. I should be more respectful. But never mind that. I’m looking for my friend. I’m worried something happened to her.”

”I could help you look for her!” 

“That would be great, thank you.” 

”I’m Gilbert. Proud Templar Knight and brother from the Temple of Solomon.” They took off their helmet and held it against their hip, revealing a head of white hair and ruby-red eyes. Then, they outstretched a gloved hand for him with a toothy grin. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Alfred, uh, son of Arthur, and student hailing from New York,” Alfred improvised awkwardly, giving it a slow, disoriented shake. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m talking to a Crusader knight right now.”

“So where did you last see your friend?” Gilbert asked.

Mathias carried you all the way to the other side of the museum, and you thrashed the whole time, begging him to let you go. When he finally put you down, he kept a firm grip on your hand. You were greeted by other Vikings, and just when you thought you’d be sacrificed like a goat, they broke out in wide smiles.

Besides them speaking in old Norse to you, which you had no way of comprehending, they were more than pleasant to you, even offering you some plastic food, which you politely declined. From the way they acted around you, it was like being with an old friend.

It became clear that they had no intention of harming you, but why they brought you here was still a mystery.

”I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you guys are saying,” You interrupted meekly, darting your nervous eyes between them. They stared at you with blank faces before exchanging confused looks with each other. “Could you please let me go? I don’t want any trouble.”

“Where did you run off to? I haven’t seen you all week. I was worried something happened to you,” Mathias spun you to him, hugging you tightly before putting his hands all over you. “You’re speaking in tongues and acting very strange! We need to get you a doctor.”

”I didn’t understand that either.” You sighed.

”It’s worse than I thought. Somebody get Olaf,” The Dane ordered, summoning another Viking to come over. They took your arm and led you off, much to your dismay. “Look after her for me, friend. In the meantime, I have a man to hunt. He’s the one responsible for this.”

”Hey, wait! Where are you taking me?” You exclaimed, glancing back at Mathias as he left. In that precise moment, your best friend’s words replayed in your mind like a tape. You looked just like his wife, and so much that it had the actual guy fooled. “Oh no. Alfred!” 

It didn’t take a linguist to know that he was in trouble, but there was nothing you could do. Your companions kept you inside their make-shift hut, treating you as one of their own. They laid you down and spoke to you very slowly, so they must’ve thought you had a concussion. Either way, they weren’t letting you out of their sight.

You just hoped Alfred brushed up on his history, because he’d be needing it tonight.

”Where the hell could she be?” Alfred walked with his newest companion. “We checked everywhere!” 

”Actually, we still haven’t checked Northern Europe.” Gilbert corrected, getting the blonde to turn in the direction of said location. But he launched a hand out and grabbed him, pulling him back. “Don’t. It’s suicide.”

”Why?” He frowned.

”It’s occupied by Norse Pagans.” The albino warned, pulling him close for a tantalizing whisper. He glanced around before he continued, almost as if speaking of them would summon them like the devil himself.

”Norse Pagans? You mean Vikings?”

“They came here last week, and it’s been Hell ever since.” Gilbert took his collar as he whispered in a panicked hush. “We sent a missionary up there once, and he came back to us completely dismembered!”

“Oh, fuck.” Alfred dug his hands through his hair, now a nervous wreck as he envisioned the thought. But what made his stomach really churn was the unshakeable thought that it was probably where you were.

For that, he was surprised he hadn’t vomited already. And he almost did when Gilbert went off on a passionate spiel of the Scandinavian heathens and everything they’d done. That was when one appeared at the end of the hall, and it wasn’t just any Scandinavian heathen.

”I mean, he’s okay now, but it was really disturbing.” The other made a face of unease as he recalled the sight. It wasn’t something a person was meant to see in their lifetime, but at least he was in a more dubious position now. “I don’t think they care for God.”

“Dude.”

”What?”

”That’s the Viking I saw earlier today.” Alfred whispered, locking eyes with Mathias who stood no more than three hundred feet away from him. In the next three seconds, the Dane broke into a sprint, charging at him at a terrifying speed like a mad bull. He let out a wheeze, likely the sound of his soul escaping his body. “Aaaand he’s running at us. Well, this has been a good life.”

”God hasn’t forsaken us yet!” Gilbert unsheathed a gleaming longsword, swinging it in impressive circles.  

Mathias launched an axe at him, and it spun through the air so fast, it passed as nothing but a white flash.

It cut Gilbert’s head clean off, getting it to land on the ground with a thump. There was no blood or flesh, just a cross-section of wax where he was decapitated. While he had his face planted on the floor, he said this in a muffled voice. “So that’s what that feels like.” 

But Alfred had already fled by then.

He never stuck around to see his friend lose his dignity, much less his own. He whimpered a little as he pumped his legs as fast as he could. He was running on so much adrenaline, his bloodstream may as well have been battery acid. But not everybody could outrun a Viking, and he would’ve eaten it if it weren’t for the arm that shot out from the side, pulling him into a room.

When he turned to the stranger who’d saved him, he recognized him to be the native Algonquin warrior he’d seen earlier that day. Only this time, he was perfectly canny and had an unrivaled sharpness that would end up ensuring his survival. While Mathias ran by outside with his pelts and armor clinking away, Allen put a finger up to his mouth to get him to stay deathly still.

But above all else, quiet.

There they crouched, hidden from plain sight like the watchful forces of nature. In the most tense ten seconds of their lives, they stared at each other, cerulean and scarlet eyes as wide as they could get them. For a moment, Alfred forgot he was being chased, deeply enchanted by the person in front of him. He was quite literally gazing back into history, a thousand years into the past to be precise. But once the coast was clear, he went back to hyperventilating. He was still in shock from everything that just happened, and the first thing he let out was an excited, albeit exasperated gasp. 

“Oh my God. You just saved my life. Thank you!” 

”Don’t mention it.” Allen took his bow off so he could arm himself with it. Then, he peered outside the door, making sure there weren’t any Vikings in the area. Turning back to the blonde, he pulled an arrow from his quiver without breaking eye contact. “I’ve been tracking that guy for days, and this is the craziest I’ve ever seen him. You have any idea why he would be after you?”

“How should I know? I don’t know the guy personally!” Alfred exclaimed, following him out into the hall. 

“You must’ve done something to piss him off.”

”But I didn’t do anything!” 

“Then he wouldn’t waste his time chasing you when he’d rather search for his girlfriend.” Allen remarked. “One of my pals can speak his language, and he says he’s been looking for her ever since he got here.”

“Fuck, that’s it. Why didn’t I think of it before?”

They ran to the elevator, to which he pressed the button for the basement. It had always been on the tip of his tongue, but the whirlwind of a night left his head more scrambled than he thought. And now that he had it all pieced together, he came up with a plan to save you.

“I came here with my friend, and she looks exactly like his wife. He must’ve seen us together. But it’s okay, I have an idea. They must have extra wax figures in storage, right? If she’s as important as they say, they must have her tucked away down here somewhere.”

“Okay, so we do a trade-off.”

”Exactly.”

”Smart.” Allen pursed his lips, thoroughly impressed.

The doors slid open and thus, they began their search, sweeping the entire basement for the reason why the museum had turned into a war zone. After an hour or so, Alfred heard someone banging away and calling for help from inside a tall wooden crate. A woman, and she sounded just like you. He and Allen walked up to it, then cracked it open like a treasure chest. Lo and behold, it was your doppelgänger, but dressed in the height of fashion from what was a thousand years ago.

“I think we found our girl.” He murmured in awe.

The three of you got back to the elevator. It was a given that the you from the Viking age was a little hesitant to get into such a tight box, but Allen had a way with body language. He made a few gestures to let you know where he was taking you. What more was that these two men had just broken you out of an even tighter box, so you had no reason not to trust them. 

“You know, I meant to ask, but doesn’t it bother you that there is a living, breathing, homicidal axe-wielding maniac running around the museum every night?” Alfred asked, feeling strangely calm now that he sensed that the night’s excitement was coming to an end. 

“We’re not alive the way you’re alive,” Allen told him. That was right. As magical as it was to have the museum come to life, it wasn’t real. History had done its course. He spoke with power and humility as he confronted that fact, and for that, he seemed to be at peace. “We’ve had our shot. But you still have yours.”

“I have the craziest chills right now.”

”But also because we’re made of wax.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Alfred laughed a little, turning to him. ”So how come you speak English?”

”I’ve been on display here for years,” Allen grinned, walking out now that the elevator doors opened. They returned to the bustling halls of the Museum of Natural History, where history had really come to life that night. “New York is my home. Always has been.”

”Explains the accent.” 

It didn’t take long to track down Mathias again, and when he finally laid eyes on the one he’d been searching for, he turned into an entirely different person. His anger, terror, and everything that made him a legend, had all but melted into a deep emotional coherence.

He was nothing but a man now. A man with his own joys and sorrows like everybody else.

He dropped his ax and ran up to his long-lost love, picking her up and embracing her after what felt like an eternity. He finally found her again after a thousand years, and the scene was quite profound to behold.

But if you asked Alfred, it wasn’t as touching as his reunion with you. He found you in the hall of Northern Europe, holed up in a tent and rubbing your eyes. They were red from crying, and the way you looked at him was something he’d burn in his mind forever. And the way you hugged him, a feeling he’d never get tired of.

”I knew you’d come.” You squeezed him.

“Of course I came,” He squeezed you back, burying his face into the crooked of your neck. “But maybe it’s time that I switch out my glasses for some contact lenses. Don’t wanna keep losing them like I did tonight.”

“No way!” You gushed. “I like the way you look now.”

”Yeah?” He smiled rosily. From that outburst alone, he knew you’d forgiven him for everything that happened. But from the sound of things, you had a much easier time than he did. On the way home, he enthused you on the people he met and his close brushes with death. 

“You ever hear of a term called solipsism?” You asked. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” He shook his head.

“It’s the concept that everything around you doesn’t exist and is made up by your own mind,” You explained, stopping him in the middle of the street. It was dawn by then, and the rising sun cast a golden glow over your tender smile. “But if everything around me is just my imagination, you’re the best thing I’ve come up with.”

His eyes went wide, shocked by how sweet you just were. Just like that, everything he ever pined away for didn’t matter anymore. He was worth more to you than an adventure of a lifetime because he was that adventure. But at the same time, Alfred fell even harder for you, and it showed in the way his gaze softened. 

”Right back at you, sport.” 

[imrllytootiredforthis]

Clean up your mess~

pairing: Han jisung x reader

warnings: glasses hannie (cuz that's a warning in itself) fem!reader, dom!reader, sub!jisung, virgin jisung, corruption kink, miss kink, handjob, nipple play, cum-eating, oral fixation, edging, slight exhibitionism, cheating (with the intent of divorcing the one being cheated on) possibly more i forgot

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i got a spark of inspiration late last night and stayed up 'til 5 in the morning writing this, read it today and realized it was pretty much incomprehensible so rewrote it

You were bringing him lunch.

He'd forgotten his lunch today, why?

Well because you hadn't waken him up this morning, like you do every morning. Must've slipped your mind.

Nearly late for work, dashing out the door, one arm in his coat, trying to get the other on while grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes. Barking at you to bring him lunch today.

Shouting at you all the while.

After all, it was your fault. For failing your duty of being a human alarm clock for him the past however many years it'd been since you'd married him.

But it was okay.

You should've waken him up. It was your fault.

So you brought him a lunch.

A coffee you'd picked up just before and a turkey sandwich.

With tomatoes and lettuce and mayonnaise and no cheese because he's picky and only likes cheese in his ham sandwiches.

Cucumbers and just a dash of mustard-just the way he likes it.

Expecting to find him as usual, in his office. Working hard and earning money to pay for the life you had.

He certainly was working at something. Not at his work, but his dutiful little assistant.

Bent her over the desk, the thing rocking and creaking from the force. Holding her by the throat, her moans coming out scratchy as he groaned into her neck, whispering in her hair.

God, if only your own sex life could be that enthusiastic with him.

The things you've had to endure all by yourself due to his poor skills in the area. The nights you'd had to take care of yourself because he surely couldn't.

And this is what you got?

Sigh.

This is what you got for marrying a rich, semi-attractive man. An arranged marriage on both ends but you at least thought that he would stay faithful.

The divorce settlement will pay well at least, you think, pulling out your phone and taking a few pictures.

To show your lawyer, of course.

Thank heavens, they're both being so loud, they didn't even realize you came in, his desk perfectly situated that their direct line of view isn't at the door where you stand.

Snap a few more and close the door quietly behind you.

You'll have to leave his lunch at the front desk with his secretary. His particularly adorable secretary.

His nametag just slightly crooked on his button-up, reading Jisung. Looking down, distracted at something on his computer screen.

You clear your throat, admiring the way his teeth tug at his lip, intently staring at whatever's on the screen.

His eyes flash up at you, widening, body jolting as he frantically clicks at his mouse.

He tries to put on a smile and recollect himself but impulsively reaches up to readjust his glasses nervously, fighting back the blooming blush coating his cheeks.

"H-hi, Mrs. L-Y/N!" He squeaks, remembering the many times you've clicked your tongue at him and told him to call you by your first name.

"Hello Hannie! How are you today?" You smile at him,

His heart skips a beat at the nickname you'd fondly gifted him and he nods. "I'm good, better that you're here now! I've missed seeing you around!"

"Aww," you glance towards your husbands office, still seeing the blinds shut. Then your attention is back on Han, fully and wholly. "I've missed you too, I've just been so busy with everything, you understand."

He adjusts his glasses again, a bright smile lighting up his face. "Ah, yes. Been there, done that. I completely understand."

He doesn't understand, has not the foggiest idea but the way you're looking at him.

It shouldn't have him feeling this way.

You're his boss's wife. He could get fired and lose this job he really needs.

But...you're you.

And oh, he really just wants to impress you.

And your small laugh makes his heart flutter. "Oh of course you do, it's too bad that someone can never seem to." You gesture over to the door. "Y'know, that always one of the things that I've loved about you Hannie, how you get me in ways that he's never have."

Perhaps he's being delusional.

Perhaps it's that he can't read the signs right but the bitterness in your tone when you speak of him, the way your lips twist in distaste compared to the way you say his name.

Hannie.

With such warmth and a fond look in your eye. A fond look that maybe suggests...

He adjusts his glasses but this time you grab his wrist, stopping him. "Stop that won't you, darling? It's so distracting."

His skin tingles where you touch him and he's sure he couldn't be redder, he can feel his skin hot and can't help but stare helplessly where your hand is wrapped around him.

"I-uh, u-um,"

Just as quick as you'd grabbed him, you were letting him go. "Well anyway, I'm sorry Hannie, but I'm afraid that I can't stay for long. I'm just here to drop off some lunch for the boss. And I can see that he's a bit...busy right now, you'll be a good little pet for me and give it to him once he...finishes up, won't you?"

His breath hitches at it. Frozen in place, staring, blinking hard, trying desperately not to do something embarrassing...or fireable...or both.

But he inevitably fails as he reaches to grab the brown paper bag and coffee set on the desk in front of you, instead, his still slightly shaking, slightly trembling hand, knocking the coffee onto the floor and all over you.

"Fuck!" You hiss, more from the feeling of the still-hot liquid pouring onto your skin than from the fabric being ruined itself.

Han squeaks, wide-eyed before he stands up quickly, the first immediate reaction he's been able to have since you've arrived and rushes to the other side of the desk, "Shit, shit, god I'm so sorry-are you okay?"

He scrambles to grab a tissue box, trying to sop up the mess but ultimately proving himself to not be very good at it. "I'm fine. I'm fine. It's okay."

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean-"

"-I know, I know you didn't. But it's okay. Give me the tissues." You pull the from his frantic hands. "Try to clean up the mess on the floor. I can do this."

He apologizes again, before taking the tissue box, not the best device but it'll work for now and starts trying to do just that.

You try to soak up more of the coffee from your clothes but there's really nothing else you can do, it's not that big a deal anyway.

You could always just get it replaced or professionally washed.

Especially with that settlement money, and you wouldn't have your husband up your ass telling you to control your spending like it was an allowance or something.

"Here. Let me help." You sigh, leaning down to try to help.

He shakes his head insistently, pulling the tissue box away from you. "No. This is my fault I'm gonna clean it all up."

You sigh at his stubborness. Simply giving him a look and holding out your hand. "Jisung."

The boy in question shakes his head again, and you lift your eyebrows. He pouts. "N-"

You curl your finger under his chin, forcing him to look up, cup in hand, dirty tissues in the other and you realize the position you've put yourself in.

Him crouched down, all too close in front of you, looking up, his normally adorably wide eyes giving a much different perspective than it has before.

He's realized too. "U-um, M-miss-"

"-Y/N."

He breathes heavily, his body slouching in on itself, his tilting his head more up to make up for the lost height. "I, I..."

"It's okay, use your words." You encourage, leaning down the rest of the way, coming face to face.

But he's already forgotten what he was going to say, had he even had something to say in the first place., he doesn't really remember if he did with your hand now on his cheek and the other taking the empty cup out of his hand reaching up and setting it on the desk again.

"F-fine. But I'm going to do most of the work okay? I-i can show you to the storage closet so we can get cleaning supplies?" It comes out more like a question but either way you don't question it.

Instead you stand up, pulling him up along with you. "Okay. Good, so where is the storage closet?"

--

Honestly, you'd never been in a real storage closet but you'd think it would be bigger than this.

It was tiny, filled with shelves of cleaning supplies and a broom, mop, and a few extras tucked into the corner.

All in all, there was absolutely no way it could fit more than three people and even two was a very tight squeeze as you followed him inside.

He struggles to find the light as you close the door, leaving the room in darkness.

"Where's the lightswitch?" You whisper.

He makes a noise of frustration. "I dunno, open the door again so I can-wait there it is," He reaches over your shoulder but stumbles, shoving you back into the door with a loud thud.

The light switches on and there he is.

Really, really close. His nose practically pressed against yours, glasses slid down halfway. "H-hi." His breath smells like gum, not the minty kind but the actual bubblegum kind, sweet and hot against your face.

"Hi."

The light isn't very bright, flickering and hanging swaying on the ceiling it's barely enough to illuminate the small room.

He swallows and you can hear it from how close he is.

He should move but he can't quite bring himself to. You smell so good. He can't even begin to put his finger on what it is but it certainly making his head spin and the way you're looking at him-the way you're looking at him-

The next thought is scrambled in his mind as you take his glasses and push them up his nose, fixing them for him. "There you go."

"Y-you can't just do that?" He whispers weakly, trying to ignore the proximity of your bodies now.

Your leg is practically pressed up to his crotch with how close the two of you are and fuck, if it isn't driving him insane.

"What? What am I doing?"

Everything.

You breath is fanning across his face. Your hand is resting, hovering right over the side of his face from when you moved his glasses. He's pretty sure you just inched your leg farther between his legs, pressed your thing against him more.

His eyes slip shut but even so, he still knows you're still looking at him, can practically feel your gaze burning into him.

Maybe if he closes his eyes he can forget about everything else.

Forget about the less than romantic setting around him. The bottle of cleaning spray on the shelf right beside his head reeking of chemicals that are making his head spin.

Well he doesn't actually know if it's the chemicals making it spin or you.

"Y-you're to-touching me."

“You're the one pressing me against the door Hannie." You tease.

He knows you're right. Knows you're trying to tease him. Knows that he doesn't want to move at all.

"B-but,"

"Does it have an effect on you?” He can feel as you shift, however that was made possible, closer to him. 

“A-nd if I told you that it does?" He can't bring himself to open his eyes. "What about my boss? Your husband? This can ruin you. I can get fired."

He can feel your hands sliding over him. Both starting at his shoulders before trailing down. You scoff "Bastard did it first." Then, "He doesn't matter anyway. I'm leaving him."

You squeeze at his hips as a test, hearing the way he holds back a muffled moan and tuck that away for later.

He finally looks at you. "Y-you are?"

You lick a stripe up his neck and he finally moans. "Mhmm, going to see my lawyer tomorrow to file for divorce."

Nibbling at his ear, hands exploring lower, finally reaching his pants and moving back to graze over his ass. You squeeze and he gasps loudly, rolling his hips in a way that begs for more.

"S-so he ch-cheated on you then?" You brush a finger lower, over his hole and he tugs at his lip with his teeth, muffling a whine.

You pull back entirely, leaving him cold all while lifting an eyebrow. "Curious thing, aren't you Hannie?" He nods senselessly, not caring what you say so much as you would touch him again. "I think that they're more things you should be curious about."

Finally, finally, your fingers hover over his belt. "Can I?"

"Please~"

You stop and he groans with impatience. "What now?" He whines in a way that would be almost cute if it wasn't so bratty.

Huh, you'd never peg Han as a brat.

"Don't talk to me like that. I'm the one making you feel good here, so shut up and take it." You hiss.

He pouts but his eyes are alight in amusement. "I'd shut up if you were actually doing something..." He leans in with a newfound confidence you'd never expect from him. "So in other words...make me."

"Oh Hannie," You take his glasses off and wipe them of the condensation built up, full intentions of clouding them up all over again.

You click your tongue disapprovingly before resting back on his nose. "Just remember, you asked for this."

"Yes Miss."

He nods along, swiping his tongue over his lips and you smile, nearly cooing at how cute he looks as you pull his belt undone, placing your lips next to his ear. "And don't lie to me. Tell me everything you feel and let me hear every noise you make."

Then your hands are slipping down into his pants, making his head spin and his toes curl in his shoes.

"S-shit, ah!" His eyes flutter closed. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

As your one hand thumbs over his slit, the other pulls his pants down the rest of the way, dropping both his pants and his boxers down around his ankles.

The next thing Han knows, he's being pushed into the wall, the smell of the cleaning spray strong in his head making him feel desperately dizzy. Or maybe that was from you, looking at him all dark and mean standing there over him.

Or maybe your hand wrapped around his cock, he's so hard and you feel so good. Fuck, he doesn't understand how it could all feel so good.

Or maybe it's your other hand, wandering up his chest and landing on his nipple, leaving him gasping, begging you to stop, begging you to continue. His back arching off the wall into you and a choked moan before he's pawing at your wrists.

"D-don't," but he's non-committal, fingers weakly tugging at your hand nowhere near as forceful if actually wanted you to stop. "I-i'll cum right away if you do that." He cries.

You ignore him and continue. The time a little harder. Pinching it and slightly tugging as he sobs in pleasure.

"I don't know why you think you're in charge here honey," watching him swallow heavily, throat bobbing. "but you're not. And if I wanna play with you, I'm going to." A cry of pleasure is ripped from somewhere deep inside of him, body convulsing. "Gonna wind you up like a little toy until I'm satisfied."

Every nerve set aflame. Every piece of himself free for you to play with. Every little part of his brain sent into overdrive as his hips work automatically, messy and sloppy into your loose grip. Chest pushed farther into your hand although he still begs weakly for you to stop.

"'M your toy. Yes, your toy for you!"

He's shaking, body nearly limp. From what? A few touches to his cock and his nipples? Maybe he's just sensitive. Or maybe it's something else.

"Have you done this before?" You murmur, already knowing your answer but desperate for the confirmation.

"U-um, a-a few times-"

You stop, keeping your hand wrapped around him but still but taking your other hand entirely out of his shirt, taking his face in your hand.

He whines, pawing at your arms needily, forcefully enough that you can tell he's really trying. "No lying, Hannie. I thought I told you that."

His hips move of their own accord, fucking his cock into your fist as much as you'll allow before you pull away completely, ripping a cry from him.

"N-no, don't stop," He tries to bring his own hands down, tries to tip himself over the edge before it's gone but you don't let him.

You grip his wrists, reminding him of when you did it earlier at his desk. He whines again and you think you can see a tear slip down his adorable cheeks "Please no, please don't stop."

He can hardly believe that not even an hour ago you'd dropped off your husbands lunch.

You purse your lips, even in the dark of the room able to see the his eyes from the sheen of the gloss spread over them, only slightly hidden by the fogged up glasses that have slipped down lower to perch on his nose. "What did I tell you? About lying?"

His hiccupy gasps are so cute. "D-don't lie."

"Good." He shivers, your hand finally loosely wrapping around him again. "Then why did you lie to me, Jisung?"

He mewls as you speed up, trying to respond over the fog in his head. "'M sorry miss! M' sorry I lied, I've never done this before!" He gasps, "you're the first, you're the only!"

A moan spills out of his pretty pink lips and you claim them with your own, swallowing the next and the next after that.

Pulling away just slightly to whisper against his lips. "Good boy, Hannie. Such a good boy for me aren't you?"

"Y-yes, yes Miss, 'm a good boy."

Your lips curl up and your hand ventures to his hip, rubbing the area you'd pegged as sensitive and what a surprise, you're right.

His eyes flutter shut with a high keen. "And you know what?"

A meek, "what?" comes from him despite how dazed he is.

"Good boys get rewards."

Your hand moves quicker and he swears he can see stars exploding behind his eyes.

And then your hand's digging so hard into his hip, he's pretty sure-no he's positive it'll leave a mark there.

"God," His glasses are so fogged that he can barely see a thing even if his eyes weren't already in the back of his skull.

"I'm no god pretty thing. But I can sure make you feel like heaven." You whisper and he shudders, legs shaking under him so hard he doesn't think he could hold his weight up if it weren't for the wall behind him.

Breathless and beautiful and feeling bone-achingly high with pleasure he can barely choke out the words. "F-faster, pl-please, please...." He gasps. "I-i'm s-so, please I'm so cl-close."

You can't help but coo. "Cum whenever you need to baby, been such a good boy."

And he does.

Mouth hanging open, tears stained on the apple of his cheek which are such a pretty shade of pink. His glasses so fogged you can't even see what his eyes are doing.

Face entirely blissed out as his orgasm hits him head on like a fucking train, cute little gasps and small mewls falling from his open lips.

And quite suddenly, you're all too aware that only a thin door separates you from the entirety of the rest of the office.

And Han is still moaning loudly, sniffling and gasping. Looking and sounding like the main lead in a cheap porn movie.

In other words, loud as fuck.

You're pretty sure the damage is already done. People have already heard. But you cover his mouth with your hand anyway, muffling the noises.

His eyes widen, the touch bringing him slightly back and his eyes shoot to the door, making the same revelation that you did.

"You gotta be quiet baby" You whisper, looking around for paper towel, perhaps a clean rag that you can clean him up with, but then you look back to his pretty face.

And slowly pull your hand away. "You gotta clean up your mess baby." His eyes widen as you bring your cum-covered hand to his lips. "Wanna clean it up?"

His breath hitches. He nods frantically and begins to eagerly lap at your hand, moaning and wrapping his lips around your fingers.

You watch, entranced, pupils blown wide, watching him hungrily and when he's cleaned that up and your hand is slick with his saliva you scoop up the mess he's left all over his abdomen, bringing it to his lips once more.

He's so far gone he doesn't even realize when it's done, still pulling your fingers into his mouth, sucking on them and laving attention around each and every finger.

He can't even hear you as you brush back his hair, "You okay Hannie?"

Doesn't hear until your fingers thread through his hair, providing a grip to tug his head back, focusing his attention back on you with a moan.

"You good?"

He nods quickly, but doesn't look like he's telling the truth, still staring at you hand, tongue still peeking out from his mouth.

"Are you sure? Don't lie."

That has him snapping out of it, shaking him head with a forceful kind of clearing it before leaning down to pull up his pants. "Y-yeah. I'm good."

He's a mess. Messy hair and foggy glasses, red face and sweat still dripping down his neck.

He looks like someone who's just been properly fucked.

Voices outside talk about lunch, where they're going and you know you're husband's looking for his lunch right about now.

You quickly pick up a mop. "Okay. Um, pass me the spray behind your head?" He does, slightly shaky and a little slow still. "So, I'm gonna go and start cleaning the coffee up. You're gonna leave a few minutes after I do, head to the bathroom. Clean yourself up a bit, okay?"

Nodding animately, your hand grips the doornob.

"Wait!"

You turn back.

He looks almost like a puppy, all wide-eyed and begging. "What does this mean for us?" His heart thumps wildly. "Because I like you. I really do Mi-Y/N and I don't know if you like me or if maybe I'm just here for a stress relief or what?"

You don't know.

With your husband and the lawyer you're going to see about him tomorrow, it's really now a good idea to get into something like this.

It couldn't go well for you. But he looks so hopeful and he's so adorable and sweet and maybe you could envision something with him.

He wasn't just a stress-relief and that was for sure but what else could he possibly be right now?

Now is really not a good time to figure it out

"Do you have your phone on you?"

He shakes his head no, so you glance over and grab a sharpie off the shelf. "Here then." You lift his sleeve and begin to write on his forearm.

You finish and pull away, throwing the marker back where you found it. He scrutinizes the ink on his skin. "What's this?"

"My number. I like you too, Jisung. But now is not a really good time, call me later and we can meet up somewhere and talk, okay?" You try to sound as gentle as possible but you can tell that he's not very satisfied with that answer.

"Fine. We'll talk later."

You smile gently at him, making his heart do somersaults in his chest before you're opening the door and stepping out.

a/n: just mind the horrible grammar and anything that sounds off, i write this so late last night and tried to fix everything but probably missed a lot of things, that being said i'll prolly proofread it again later

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

TW// Panic Attack// Derealisation /Derealization //

Multiple names used interchangeably// ambiguous ending

read the side notes at the end!//

Sometimes, this world feels fake. Sometimes, he doesn’t feel like he lives in it.

When he was Houhua, he tries wave the fog away and picks up his brush and does his duties. He makes way too many mistakes in those days but no one pays any mind to him. No one pays any mind to his bruises anyway.

No one would care to find out. Why would they?

He was just a pathetic, puny little mouse, scurrying to survive. Canon fodder destined to die and return to the earth below for his sins.

This was his world. His story brought to life.

When the sun glimmers through his window, he wonders if the glow is artificial, like the failing bulbs he used to change when he was falling behind in his rent.

He opens his eyes, trying to blink away the fog, trying to bring back clarity , but to no avail, time slips by again. It’s warmer now, so he forces his limbs to move.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he takes a deep breath and reaches out for a hair tie before locking eyes with himself in the mirror.

Distantly he thinks, ‘this isn’t who I am.’

The colour of his hair was as bright as a chestnut, different from what it should be, shorter dark curls floating in the wind instead of being in a bun. His eyes glaze over— his bright amber compared to the hazelnut shade— scanning himself in the mirror.

His height—the body’s height was shorter by a few inches. He tries to breathe. It only serves to tighten the space in his chest. Finally, with his clumsy fingers, he wrangles his messy, unbrushed hair into a low bun, having no energy to do his usual high bun.

He wished he could cut it.

His hand lifts up to touch the body’s face . Shang Qinghua’s face. Shang… Houhua…?

He tries to think about true name.

He remembers projecting himself into his story, the story that he loved so much, even if it devolved into horrible cliché plots that never went anywhere. Even if the stories were left buried under, he still loved this world.

洛梅花

Luò Méihuā

A plum blossom. Blooming in the midst of winter.

Haa…

He feels like he’s wilting. He steps outside of his room, dizzily fumbling with his accessories, the buttons, the sashes messily wrapped around him

He thinks he smells smoke, a Pringly feeling rubbing against his fingers. He remembers the day he dies, the currents and volts electrocuting him. The sound of thunder never used to scare him.

Now he trembles at the sight of a storm. The percentage of getting hit by lighting is low, but it still terrifies him. To die. To feel that excruciating pain, to feel that excruciating loneliness at the same time, it was unbearable.

~~

Feiji blinks, suddenly standing right infront of his office door, a disciple of his holding the side of his shoulder. He remembers watching her stumble around as a young student, her name being on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t write her, he knew this, yet he couldn’t stop the wave of unease.

“Shizun?” She frowned in concern. He tries to smile and pat her head. Her frown doesn’t disappear, but she does scatter out the front gate.

Feiji wonders if Gua-xiong (Cucumber bro) feels like this sometimes. Like the world is floating away against his will.

“Shang-shidi?” He blinks again. A different person steadying the body— he didn’t even know the body was swaying.

Hm… Yue Qingyuan should be pretty and likeable… but no one likes a one-dimensional character. Though, they really don’t care as long as the protag gets their wives huh… hm…

Maybe I can scrap the Xiao Jiu storyline? The sect leader is gonna die anyway… it’ll be super bittersweet.



Yue Qingyuan’s brow was furrowed as he stared at the body. Shang—Hua flinched, remembering the descriptions that he’d thought of to make the pair suffer even more.

“All you do is apologise, and for what!? You left me behind!” Meihua laughed slightly as he wrote Xiao Jiu’s lines, thinking to himself, this will surely satisfy the readers angsty desires!

Meihua grinned with the artist he had commissioned to make official art of the peak lords, “this is exactly what i think they look like in my head, thanks!”

Shang Qinghua opens his mouth—

and chokes on a sob, “S—“

he gasps as his knees buckle beneath him, “Sorry.”

Fortunately, Yue Qingyuan jumps in quickly and reaches out to steady him, lowering him slowly instead of plunging to the ground. “Shang-shidi? What’s wrong? Your disciple ran into me and told me that you were acting weird—“

His eyes go wide though he’s not quite sure why and his hearing suddenly shuts down, muffling everything the worried man is saying.

Feiji is sorry, Yue Qingyuan— he’s sorry—he’s so incredibly sorry—!

—

“Are you sure there’s nothing that could’ve possibly sent him into such a severe qi deviation?” Mu Qifang questioned once more, desperate to get any answers on how to help his patient.

Yue Qingyuan shakes his head, grimacing, “No, the disciple I saw told me that he’s been that quiet since the start of the day.”

He paused thinking for a little longer before sighing, “She did not mention if Lord Mobei had visited either… there was nothing that could have triggered it. And nothing is calming him down.”

Mu Qingfang gazed over to the sobbing man boy, “I wish I knew how to help him.”

“Perhaps we should ask Shen-shidi for assistance. He…”

Yue Qingyuan’s expression closed as he thinks about it, “The two of them has been quite close in the recent years.” He reminds himself to calm down.

Shang Qinghua to him, is like having a younger brother, he could feel totally at ease with the oddly anxious peak lord. Despite that, it’s hard to let go of one’s protective instincts. One day, he hopes his instincts will protect the younger as well.

—

“Hey,” a familiar voice called out from the darkness, “Bro?”

Feiji opens his eyes—he didn’t even know he had closed them— and sees the Scum Villain he had created. His breath hitched, thoughts running at a million miles per hour.

The—The backstory that he had scrapped in order to chase the trends and feed into popular tropes—

“Sh—Shen—“ Feiji stuttered out. Shen Qingqiu softened (!???) his expression, before holding his hand out.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me, Shang Qinghua. Mu-shixiong told me that you were—“

shangshidishangshidishangshidi

In a burst of weird emotions, He swats his hand away from him, his voice almost going to a shrieking level, shocking everyone in the room.

“STOP—! That’s not my name—! Please! Shen—Shen—shixiong.”

The two names were fluttering in his mind.

Yuan. Jiu.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He didn’t understand what was happening anymore.

“Yu—Yuan—xiong please—! That’s— that’s not my name!” He pleaded, “N—Not Shang Qinghua, not Houhua! That’s not me!”

He remembers vaguely the destiny of the body he’s residing in. “He’s not me—“

The two peak lords behind him blink in shock and panic, both frozen, not knowing what to do or say. ‘Yuan…?’

“Okay, I’m sorry, I know you’re not, you’re not him,” Shen Qingqiu nodded comfortingly, “It’s okay, Feiji—ge Gua—xiong is here.”

Feiji shudders at the nickname, one that would usually make him feel safe when it’s Shen Yuan uttering it, yet— all the name does is remind him that he had written all of these characters, all of their suffering, caused by him.

He shakes his head desperately.

Luckily, the man understands. “Alright, this master won’t call you by that name, it’s okay. Can you tell me what you want me to call you?”

It takes a very long time for his mind to catch on, for his mind to send signals on how to respond, he shivers, bowing his head, he grasps at the strings, pulling the cord that would finally make his voice work.

“Meihua— L—Luo Meihua! That’s—“ He sobbed, cutting himself off and desperately clinging to the one person he knew was real. “Gua—Xiong.”

Despite not being good with physical touch, Shen Qingqiu allows the mousy man to grab on as a crutch, he nods along to his mumbles, gesturing Mu Qingfang to help put the panicked and stressed man to rest. “Okay, thank you for telling me Luo Meihua, This one won’t leave you.”

—

“Please. We will explain it all, but please just trust us.” Shen Yuan whispers as the author in his arms falls quiet with his breathing at ease.

—

Blue =Airplane(Feiji)/Meihua(my Airplane’s original name) / & Shen Yuan / Gua-Xiong (cucumber bro)

Green=Shang Qinghua /Shang Houhua( Sqh’s original name?)’s body and original self (or what he perceives to be the original)

also, green refers to SVSSS characters in general and differentiates from real people

It’s honestly super cool I can do this on tumblr

Also side note:

PIDW to Shen yuan feels like Miraculous Ladybug to a lot of fans

it’s so funny

In general, a lot of mlb fans absolutely hate the way Chat and Ladybug is written and I just can’t help but think of Shen Yuan. But at least here, Airplane is likeable haha

[anonymous-dentist]

A very confusing day in the Merpepito AU

Richarlyson is being weird.

...Okay, so Richarlyson is usually weird, but now he's being super weird! Maybe he's dying. He has a worm in his brain eating it or something. Oh! Or there is a sea cucumber growing between his ears!

Pepito isn't a doctor, but he thinks that Richarlyson might actually be dying. Because there's no other reason why Richarlyson would be hanging out with Apa Roier so much.

It's been a week since the Sky fell, and maybe Richarlyson got hit by a piece of the Sky and his brain started bleeding, because he's decided that he's Apa Roier's new best friend. (Which is crazy because Apa Roier doesn't have friends! He always says so.)

Every morning, Richarlyson sits next to Apa Roier at breakfast. He helps Apa Roier with his chores. He brings Apa Roier cups of water when it starts getting hot out. He eats lunch next to Apa Roier. He tells Apa Roier that he'll take care of his afternoon chores so Apa Roier can take a siesta. He eats dinner next to Apa Roier. He calls Apa Roier cool, he says that Apa Roier is the strongest Pepito he's ever seen, he says that he hopes that Apa Roier stays forever on the ship.

It's weird! Richarlyson has to be dying.

...But maybe Apa Roier is dying, too, because he's been talking to Richarlyson a lot over the past week. He saves Richarlyson a seat at the table between himself and Captain Celbi, but he's never saved Pepito a seat. He says that he's going to teach Richarlyson how to fight, but he won't teach Pepito how to fight.

But it's fine! Pepito isn't upset at all! Pepito is happy that Apa Roier is making friends... even if his new friend is the person who hates Pepito the most.

Pepito doesn't interfere. Pepito keeps doing Pepito's chores: helping Richarlyson and Pomme mop the deck, helping Mister Pac sort through foods in the kitchen, helping Mister Felps tie knots. Miss Mouse says that she's gonna teach Pepito how to do magic soon, and Miss Baghera wants to teach Pepito how to draw and read maps.

Pepito likes being a pirate. It's super fun! Pepito likes the ocean, and Pepito likes the stars- and his best friend, the Moon. Pepito likes helping around the ship. Pepito likes watching Captain Celbi at the wheel. (He's so cool!)

...Pepito just misses Ama Rivers and Apa Carre and Apa Mariana and Apa Quackity and Awuelo Foolish and Leo and Empi and Sunny a lot. And Pepito thinks that Apa Roier misses them, too.

He has to.

But Apa Roier has been smiling a lot, recently. He smiles when he's near Captain Celbi, and he smiles when he's with Richarlyson. Sometimes he smiles when he's with Pepito, but not always.

He doesn't smile when he's talking to Captain Celbi about Pepito's brother. Bobby always makes people sad, though, so Pepito doesn't think about that too much.

Pepito thinks about Pirate Things instead, because Pepito is going to be the Best Pirate Ever!

Apparently, Pepito is a really Good Pirate because Captain Celbi wants to talk to Pepito alone in his office!

Pepito is sooooooo getting promoted! He won't just be the ship's Pepito, he'll be the ship's Pirate Pepito. He'll get a fancy pirate hat and everything; Richarlyson doesn't have a fancy pirate hat, so Apa Roier is going to look at Pepito and pick him up and tell him that he's such a Good Pepito that he's going to sit with Pepito at dinner and teach Pepito how to fight!

"Now, Pepito, I called you in here for a very good reason," Captain Celbi says as soon as Pepito is sitting (evilly!!) in the chair in front of his desk.

Pepito nods, serious.

Captain Celbi takes that as a sign to continue: "I understand that you're Roier's son?"

Pepito nods. Pepito is Apa Roier's Pepito!

Captain Celbi sighs, relieved. "Okay, good."

And then Captain Celbi's face falls. He almost looks ready to cry- his face is all red and his eyes are all wide and he looks really super freaked out.

"What does your dad like?" Captain Celbi asks, face all scrunched up like he's in pain. He sticks his hands up under his hat and pulls at his hair so hard that his knuckles knock the hat off of his head. The pointy things on the top of his head lay flat, unable to be seen through his hair.

Pepito blinks. Apa Roier likes Bobby? But, no, Bobby just makes Apa Roier cry. Hmm...

Captain Celbi groans and slumps back in his chair, his wrists and arms covering his face.

"He's impossible," he moans. "Every time I've tried subtly asking him, he's just shrugged!"

That sounds like Apa Roier. He's never liked talking about himself. Pepito didn't even know his name until all of the other Ocean Pepitos yelled at and made Apa Roier take Pepito home.

"He's always just-" (Captain Celbi's Pointy Things twitch, and he pitches his voice up in an impression.) "-'Hey, man! I don't know, man! I like lots of things, man! I like fish!' Like!" (He drops his impression and his hands, sitting up in frustration.) "What fish!? We're on the ocean! There are lots of fish in the ocean!"

Pepito nods sagely. There are lots of fish in the ocean. Captain Celbi is very smart, that's why he's the captain!

Captain Celbi rubs his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger.

"He deserves something nice," he sighs, much quieter and much calmer. "Better than fish. He deserves... gold. Silver. Diamonds. Rubies. He deserves good things."

Apa Roier has never been one for shiny things. That's always been Apa Quackity, even though he can't ever afford anything shiny because of how many times the Sea Witch has blown up his house with Sea Witch Magic, and Awuelo Foolish, who is basically the King of the Reef.

Apa Roier likes fish. He likes Bobby. He hates pirates. He likes crabs. He likes blue and red coral. He likes Miss Niki's candy. He likes-

Captain Celbi looks at Pepito seriously. "I need your help, Pepito. I want to get your father a really nice gift. It has to be perfect."

Pepito looks at the notepad on Captain Celbi's desk.

Following Pepito's gaze, Captain Celbi slides the paper over along with a pen.

Pepito hums, and he thinks. What does Apa Roier like most?

Aha!

Pepito draws exactly what Apa Roier would like! Once he's done, he flips the notepad around to show Captain Celbi with a triumphant grin.

"Pepito," says Captain Celbi, smiling only a little, "that's a picture of me."

Pepito nods. Captain Celbi makes Apa Roier really happy! The perfect gift!

Captain Celbi sighs, and he leans across the desk to ruffle Pepito's hair.

"That's a good thought," he says, "but let's try and think of something I can buy him."

Ooooooh! Okay!

Pepito turns the page and starts to think again. Something you can buy...

Oh! Pepito knows!

So, Awuelo Foolish has this friend named Mister Vegetta, and Awuelo Foolish wanted to give Mister Vegetta the BEST gift ever. So Awuelo Foolish found the most perfect shell at the Bottom of the Ocean, and he put it on a string of kelp, and he gave it to Mister Vegetta, and now they're Best Friends! They have sleepovers every night and they kiss a lot, which Pepito thinks that Married Pepitos do, but Awuelo Foolish and Mister Vegetta aren't Married Pepitos yet, they're just Best Friends who make each other super happy.

So Pepito draws the shell, and he draws the string, and he even draws Captain Celbi giving Apa Roier the necklace.

He holds the picture up to Captain Celbi, and Captain Celbi grins.

"That's perfect, Pepito," he says. "The next time we're near a beach, you and I are going to find your dad the perfect seashell."

YES!! Another secret mission with Captain Celbi!

Take that, Richarlyson! You might be friends with Apa Roier now, but are you going on secret missions with the captain? Nuh-uh!

Pepito is the best pirate ever!!!

--------

To Be Continued...