#and other than that it's been work and family and this course i started.

[fruithoughts]

‎‎‎ㅤㅤHow to catch a hufflepuff?

‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤjeonghan x fem!reader  

01.ㅤۗㅤ𝙼ember .  ⎯⎯⎯  jeonghan.

02.ㅤۗㅤ𝙲𝚆 .  ⎯⎯⎯ one sided beef, he tries to a dick but he's too in love lol what a loser, MANY PET NAMES(pretty girl, doll, puppy...), reader is a muggle, smut at very end, smut with plot, rough sex.

September, 1 

— Are you still not over yourself? — A new year at Hogwarts begins, and just like that, Yoon Jeonghan it’s back to his favorite hobby of tormenting his favorite girl.

— Hogwarts should get over itself! It’s insane that we still have to write with quills — the Hufflepuff answers, obviously frustrated and with a good reason to be so, it’s 2024 and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry it’s still stuck on writing with quills? In individual papers? This fact alone it’s crazier than most spells they’ve ever teached.

— You say it as if the muggle option is much better — he lies straight through his teeth, knowing damn well that pens are, with no doubt, much easier to use than quills. Jeonghan is Jeonghan, don’t take him too seriously or you might actually punch him in the face. Much like he expected, his false observation is pointed out by the girl sitting right alongside him in this train stall almost immediately after it leaves his mouth, the Slytherin has always had too much fun bothering the school’s sweetest girl who just so happened to be cursed with world’s biggest puppy eyes.

It wasn’t friendly like this back then, though. No, not even close.

These two despised each other with a burning passion, well, Jeonghan did; for the far majority of this nemesis thing, the hate was very much one-sided. Coming from an insanely racist family definitely rubbed off on him and when his academic life expectations were ruined by the fact that the entire school seemed completely in love and constantly in awe of that stupid muggle girl, he decided right there to make her life a living hell. 

Which he succeeded in doing, kind of. Her life was surely miserable when around him but she didn’t seem to care about their relationship as soon as she was with her friends, housemates, just anyone at all, Jeonghan felt invisible at times, and it infuriated him to no end. Last year was the worst era for sure. The bitterness had been going on for so long, they were both exhausted and having to work together on an astronomy assignment was the last straw, so out of nothing but pure rage; they settled on an alliance for long enough to finish that thing. But it didn’t end there, of course it didn’t, they continued talking even after the assignment, they weren't friends then, absolutely not, but they started interacting like normal students for once, asking for notes, doing small talk every little in a while.

Their push and pull habits never truly died, but it wasn’t out of hate now, they were clearly having fun with this whole enemies till death tell us apart game. So much fun in fact, Jeonghan spent his entire break missing their banter like he was going crazy. It didn’t even cross his mind that he would think about that girl after the year ended, but oh, boy, did he do it.

 Maybe that was the reason they were going together in the same train stall for the first time in all of these years they’ve known each other, maybe Jeonghan lied and his friend’s stall isn’t full like he said it was, maybe he just missed his shiny eyed sweet girl, maybe.

September, 12 

— Do you have any interests other than being the center of attention? — she asks, it’s a fair question. The walk in between classes always brings out the worst out of everyone, huh? — I like pissing you off sometimes — Jeonghan answered.

Watching that cute little face transform into an annoyed and tired one never fails to make the Slytherin feel a rush of pride, he just adores it, he just adores her — Can you answer seriously at least once? Instead of being a lil bitch? Perhaps? It’s that too difficult for you? — she said imitating the tone he usually used to brother her, school’s sweetest girl being a bully, who would’ve thought. 

— Woah, woah, woah, I've been nothing but condescending and mean to you and this is how you treat me? — Jeonghan grabs his chest dramatically, his expression telling any bypassers that this man has never, in his entire life , felt as offended as he’s feeling right now — Come on now, puppy, it’s this a way you should treat a dear friend?

There it is, the classic Jeonghan urge to frustrate his pretty girl for no reason at all.

— Keep talking and I'll poison your food — the Slytherin chuckled at the threat — You wouldn’t be able to even if you tried, you’re not allowed in herbology class without the presence of a teacher — he pointed out without missing a beat — How do you still remember that? — she asks incredulously. I was made for you, of course I remember, the bastard thought to himself.

Like always, Jeonghan regretted coming to class the very second the professor opened his mouth, choosing to busy himself with going through his girl’s notes instead. They were mostly doodles or borderline intelligible for him, her handwriting was neat but her logic? Questionable, to say the least. But he loved reading whatever she wrote anyways, getting a little too happy whenever he found anything evolving his name or a silly doodle of his face. Once every twenty or so minutes he’d get distracted by her side profile instead, this was the only class where they sat together, so he shamelessly stared at her every time. For just a second, she looked back and smiled, as warm as the sun. He felt strange, he felt like a child again, liking her felt rather lovely, but did she like him too? 

October, 18 

It’s a tradition at this point, students of all houses gathering together in secret to play quidditch in their pajamas every friday night. Organization is barely existent, rules? Optional. This whole thing is a mess, it really is one of the worlds most confusing mysteries on how the teachers haven't found out about this yet(They have, but they pretend they haven’t because it’s the only time all students get fairly along with each other)

Mingyu begging Seungkwan to be the judge just off the chance that possibly, on a day where Kwan felt extremely nice, he could cut him some slack(it has never happened). Watching them from a far was arguably nicer, Jeonghan thought; sitting isolated from all of the other students with his trusty Hufflepuff by his side, both sat there in comfortable silence, this one was new for them.

— What bad music have you been listening to these days, ugly thing? — he inquires, as nice and cordial as always — Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy? — she answered staring daggers into his face, oh, if only Yoon Jeonghan was as unbothered and cool as he pretends to be, maybe then he could stop the way his heart pathetically races at the sound of her voice. 

— I always wanna know what’s going on up that little head, it’s usually just air, but sometimes we get lucky, don’t we? — the Hufflepuff rolls her eyes at his statement while the asshole who said it only grins — I could put on some songs I've been listening to, if your highness so desires — she suggests, and Jeonghan isn’t one to say no to his pretty thing. 

It started off with a soft guitar melody, much like most of the songs she listened to.

Depollute me, pretty baby

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream

The girl always had a type for softer sounding things, for gentle things, it made  Jeonghan feel unsure of himself at times. How could the sweetest girl in the school like the company of such a bitter guy?

Oh, dilute me, gentle angel

Water down what I call being grateful

Was it normal? Was this how things should be? What even were they at this point? Acquaintances? Partners in crime? Friends? 

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

The school year had barely started and Jeonghan could swear he was balding from stress since week 2, why is he acting like this? Why is he sitting far from his friends and housemates just to spend “alone time” with the girl he swore he hated less than a year ago?

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know

There were many things in this world that the Slytherin would never agree to admit. He refused to believe in just how fast his mind changed from last year. Everything happened too fast and I couldn’t see it coming, that’s why I didn’t stop it; is what the man in question kept telling himself, clearly because is the truth and nothing but the truth, clearly NOT because he could never bring himself to terms with the fact that he has always looked at the “stupid muggle girl” in the very same way he’s looking right now.

You look perfect, you look different

I don't wonder about your indifference

— Spending time with you is giving me brain damage — he speaks up, for no reason other than to listen to the sound of her laughter, which works — Don’t blame me for your psychosis — the hufflepuff answers while giggling.

If I said you could never touch me

You'd come over and say I looked lovely

She yawned and stretched her arms out, arching her back, as graceful as a swan. It’s that feeling again.

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to make me cry

He lies down on the concrete, both hands behind his head.

It was simple, you are sweetness

Let's just sit a while

She lies with him.

Depollute me, gentle angel

And I'll feel the sickness less and less

The night was beautiful, birds flying through the dark sky, he could hear his friends playing quidditch in the distance, his pretty little thing resting her head on his shoulder as they lay on the cold floor and watch the stars. It felt gentle, it felt nice, it felt perfect. He knows they won’t talk about this tomorrow.

Come and kiss me, pretty baby

Like we'll never have sex

Friends shouldn’t make each other feel like this.

October, 29

— I’m just saying, it’s a Sunday evening — Jeonghan felt like getting to the point of his argument after rambling for about 20 minutes on end — And? — she inquired, eyes still on her book, which made the Slytherin close his own, he hasn’t read a single word ever since he opened his mouth, just using his habit of reading as another cheap excuse to spend the night in the library with his lovely friend — We could do something else, you know… — he suggested, knowing damn well this isn’t going anywhere, his girl did not play about her poetry books. 

— Like what? — she engaged, also aware of the fact this is a one way street — Literally anything else, maybe have dinner somewhere — he slouched against the hardwood chair — Dinner? The thing that killed Jesus? — her answer received nothing but a very judgmental look from a very judgmental Jeonghan who didn’t stay quiet about his discontent for long, like always — You’re such a disaster — he says averting his gaze to anywhere else so she couldn’t clock the painfully obvious heart eyes he was giving her.

— Why do you spend so much time here anyways? — after about 32 seconds of nice and peaceful silence, he asked again — Reading is fun, even if it’s reading about being a loser — the Hufflepuff responded already setting the terrain herself so Jeonghan couldn’t have the pleasure of calling her out on only reading melancholic books.

— We could never live together — the Slytherin states as if it isn’t the only future he could fathom to imagine — What if our books got mixed in the bookshelf? I might have a heart attack. Imagine receiving visits and have them wrongfully assume that I read poetry? I would rather die — anybody from a mile away can tell this man has thought about this very scenario way too much for his own good — And yet you’re the perfect amount of dramatic and pretentious to be a poet yourself — every once in a while he would notice that she talked like a book, he hated it, it was better when she talked like an chronically online alien who’s only life mission is to make sure he has at least one bad day a week.

Jeonghan, ever the most mature student of Hogwarts, sticked his tongue out in his friend’s direction, which was answered with the exact same action back at him — What are you even reading, ugly? 

— The world’s wife, by Carol Ann Duffy — at the end of that day, after his pretty girl had already left to her dorm, for the first time in history; Yoon Jeonghan rented a book from the library.

November, 1

Looking at her made him feel all sorts of things, even from across the room. From an overwhelming sense of warmth just by watching his little flower engage in silly conversations with her friends after she’s done writing down notes to erratic heartbeats and goosebumps when she catches him staring and tilts her head, looking at him just like a confused puppy while mouthing “why are you staring?”. She made him feel all sorts of feelings he wishes he didn’t fall victim to, all sorts of fantasies he wished he didn’t understand, but Jeonghan was no saint, especially when it came to his little angel. 

There were only two things in his mind today, which was an improvement in comparison to yesterday when there was only one, i’ll let you guess what it was, but right now there were two; 1. The argument with Josh, and 2. Her.

Jeonghan isn’t one to hold grudges against those he loves the most, as a trickster himself; he isn’t used to taking things personally, but Joshua… Joshua had gone too far. Just when the Slytherin was ready to finally pour his heart out to somebody who he deeply trusted and loved and open up about his feelings, he was met with the most terrible response! It just wouldn’t leave his head…

— She’s perfect for me, everything about her is perfect, I think about her all of the time and it’s messing me up — Jeonghan pathetically went on and on for what could’ve been anywhere from 30 min to 2 hours, poor boy was just so confused about the simplest of feelings — And the obvious conclusion to take away from this situation is…? — his Gryffindor friend tried helping — She’s ruining my life — and it didn’t work — You’re in love, you stupid idiot — so Josh decided to be a little more direct. He was right, like always, but that didn’t stop Jeonghan from sulking the whole entire night. 

It was infuriating, what even happened to him? All it took was a pair of shining eyes and sweet smile and he’s completely done for? It’s not like the guy in question ever was the kind of student who engaged in class or was interested in anything the teachers had to say at all, but this is another level, it annoyed him to no end. That stupid girl just held his mind and all of his thoughts in her hands as if it was nothing, that stupid girl with her stupid unique personality and her stupid hauntinly beautiful face and her stupid cute outfits and the stupid boy who could not take her out of his stupid brain. 

He left a letter at her desk after class, she would only find it the next morning while he was two classes away from being interrogated about said letter. 

November, 15

Hogsmeade was full to the brim, but somehow, this moment felt very intimate. 

Maybe it was the alcohol in their systems, maybe it was the casual way they didn’t even consider sitting with their housemates before claiming the little table by the window just for themselves, maybe it was the way they were both sitting while leaning completely forward, chins resting on their arms, faces just a few inches away while yapping away the end of exams season, it felt childish, it felt nice, it felt sweet. 

— You don’t think I'm manly? — Jeonghan questioned as if this was about to become his villain origin story — You’re manly… Just in a peacock kinda of way — she answered giggling like there was no tomorrow, he loved everything going on here. Her flushed little face decorated with a big grin, her nose crunching up everytime she smiled, her voice slightly louder and whinier because of the alcohol, the slurred way her words came out sometimes, it was all perfect.

— Can I tell you something, puppy? — he whispers, knowing he isn’t anywhere near drunk enough to not remember this tomorrow, he doesn’t really care — There’s nothing in this place that I adore more than you.

He watched in awe as her eyes grew so much bigger, lips forming a little pout of shock, that specific cartoonish surprised look she always had when anything happens while she’sdrunk, looking both sides before leaning in and going “Really?” which is immediately followed by a little giggle.

In moments like this the Slytherin swears there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have his girl all to himself, nobody else deserves this view. Isn’t all of this desire so ugly? Isn’t all this wanting so gross? Isn’t it all his? Just the thought of leaving Hogwarts and never seeing his pretty little thing again was enough to give him a full body shiver followed by an ever so present nauseous feeling.

 — If I have to remember you for longer than I've known you, I might lose my mind a little — Jeonghan mindlessly admitted, a sly smile slowly makes its way in his friend’s face — Don’t you think you already lost it? — she asks.

— Maybe a little.

December, 24

— Won’t your friends be worried? Do they know or did not even tell them? — Jeonghan questions while trying to look at everything everywhere all at once. It was his first time spending Christmas night in the muggle realm, he wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was — Why wouldn’t I tell them we’re going out? — the Hufflepuff answers his question with a question — As far as I remember they were very defensive about you becoming friends with big, bad Jeonghan, have they moved on from that? — his question only got him a smack on the arm.

— They haven’t cared about that for a while now, and you interrupted me! Again! — she stated before angrily letting go of his hand, which she had been holding so they wouldn’t go far from each other and get lost, yeah… that was definitely the only reason — My sincere apologies, your highness — not taking her attitude for granted, the Slytherin quickly holds her cold hand into his own much bigger one, it was ironic in a way, the Hufflepuff who’s body is always cold and the Slytherin who’s body is always warm — Now I don’t wanna talk anymore — apparently, she didn’t accept his apology, but didn’t let go of his hand either. 

Jeonghan wasn’t sure if it was his sick mind making him hear things, but he could swear that as time went on, the sweetest girl in Hogwarts had become more and more of a brat, just for him tho. Maybe he was a bad influence. 

— Go on, keep talking about the anime girl with the blue hair, I'm listening — did he understand most of what she was talking about? No. But she was happy to share her thoughts about Hatsune Miku’s new song, so really, who was he to say no? For all Jeonghan cares she could break his brain in two, it was only ever hers to mess with anyways.

Walking through the local christmas market was much more pleasant then the pureblood snob would ever imagine or admit, but she could tell that he was having a great time, and that was enough for both of them. Jeonghan has always had a terrible case of resting bitch face, so she really couldn't give less of her mind to anybody who stared at them weirdly, the Slytherin himself barely even noticed, too focused on this cozy new place.

They ate good food, took pictures with her digital camera, petted some strays here and there, it was a perfect evening. And just when they thought things couldn’t get any better…

— Come on, it’s not that deep — the bastard insisted while dragging his pretty thing along his arm to some bar’s doorstep, there was a mistletoe there — Is it not that deep or do you just want to kiss me? — the Hufflepuff teased, her flushed face betraying the casual tone she spoke in.

Finally at the bar, they stood there. Jeonghan, with that infuriating little grin in his stupidly beautiful face, looking down at his friend who had her arms crossed in front of her chest the second they arrived, looking back at him with the an annoyed expression and an angry little pout that forced him to resist, with all of his might, to the overwhelming urge to melt directly to the floor.

— That’s for me to know, — he said pulling his doll into his arms, a hand going up to her face to make sure no stubborn hairs got in the way of the moment — And for you to wonder.

Much to Jeonghan’s surprise, maybe he really wasn’t the manly one in this relationship after all. Because when the Hufflepuff straight up yanked him by the collar of his jacket to meet his lips, he could swear that he was made to be manhandled by a pretty girl. Ever the profissional, he relaxed into their kiss almost immediately, holding the back of her head firmly in his hands so he could take some control.

It was just as good as he imagined it would be, pillowy lips massaging his own, his puppy just so pliantly allowing his tongue to explore, it was sugar sweet and addicting. 

Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it was a blessing, the girl wasn’t exactly sure while she was getting dragged around for the entire two and a half they spent going around in the christmas market. The sly prick just couldn’t control himself, whenever he saw a mistletoe, it was time. Jeonghan was so obvious, he started actually tricking her into thinking he was just interested in places. He would look around, engage in conversation with the sellers, get some nice food then the second they were about to leave, he would just pull her towards a certain spot, his girl already giggling and whining about getting tricked again. These two lost count of how many mistletoes they used to their advantage in just some hours, but at last, it was time to go. 

Surprisingly, Jeonghan wasn’t really nervous about spending the night in his friend’s apartment, they have gotten extremely close after all. The thing bothering him was something else. 

He wore some white t-shirt and fluffy pajama pants she found somewhere in the depths of her closet, probably due to a friend forgetting them. She was wearing a leopard print shirt and some black fluffy shorts, he loved the way she dressed much more than he could handle, it was too cute for him to handle. Their pajamas were the comfiest things they’ve ever worn in each other’s presence, you can only be so casual in School.  

After whining about who got to choose what they watch before sleeping, they settled in any Netflix cliche christmas movie because of how often she made fun of the scripts in those movies, and she was right, they could’ve played a cliche movie bingo and checked all of the places before the movie hit the 40 minute mark. 

Of course the film in question was nothing more than some background sound to their yapping session, what else could it be? Their conversations just flowed so easily, each topic and scenario just slipping through their fingers, eventually they got to the best part, talking about the people they both hate. At first it was the usual; “How long do you think that friend group is going to last?” and “Do you think that couple is going to get back together?” then it eventually turned into; “Do you think your friend group will last a long time?” and “How long do you think it will take before we miss our professors?” and…

— What are you gonna do after Hogwarts? — the Hufflepuff asks innocently, causing a mental turmoil to burst in Jeonghan’s head. He snaps before even thinking, and it’s probably for the best.

— What are we gonna be after Hogwarts? — the air caught in her throat was almost visible, the way her breathing got heavy, the way her eyes seemed to wander even though she didn’t break eye contact, this was a difficult conversation to have. After this they’ll either come out of this apartment as partners or as strangers, it was a tough pill to swallow. 

— We don’t ever talk about it, we don’t ever dare bring it up but we both know what’s going on, don’t we? The year is ending, flower — he had that look in his eyes, that look he had at hogsmeade, she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it, but there it was again. Jeonghan had never looked so soft, in some oversized t-shirt and fluffy zebra print pajama pants she would never witness him wearing in any other situation, his hair as soft as ever, strands romantically sitting in front of his face as he reaches a hand to hold her cheek, the most gentle touch.

— I know we started this just messing around, we’ve been messing around since last year and it felt nice, it was fun, it was new and becoming closer was so rewarding that we just couldn’t stop it — he recalls the beginning of their alliance — But it’s not so light anymore, is it, dear? The tension became too much, I know you think about me too, I know you feel me it too — he spoke his heart out, voice as soft as the look in his eyes, all of the words that have been drowning him for the past few months were finally bubbling to the surface — I wanna stop it, we played around and it was fun but I need something solid now, I need to know where we go after this is over — he kept going, his eyebrows furrowing as his breathing got more erratic. 

— We don’t have all of the time in the world so I need you to be honest with me right now — Jeonghan leaned in, he could almost see all of her thoughts and emotions right on those shiny eyes he fell in love with all those years ago, in all of this time; his sweet girl had never changed, but unknowingly, she changed him. 

— Do you want me too? — the Slytherin asks.

A rushed “i need you too” was the last thing he could process before the Hufflepuff was yanking his face into a heated kiss, hugging his neck so she could sit on his lap, Jeonghan was in heaven. 

His pretty girl softly pulling his hair to make him gasp into her mouth, his hands trying to be everywhere before he settled on holding her hips to keep her from moving too much. His sweet girl was a little too desperate for his taste. Why were her panties completely soaked and sticking to her core when he finally dipped his hand into her shorts? Was she getting hot and bothered the entire night and just taking it instead of asking for his help? — Own, did I leave my baby waiting for too long? My poor lil thing… — the motherfucker spoke up as condescending as always, only causing her to whine as he teasingly cupped her warmth through the moist underwear — Don’t worry, puppy. You know I’ll make it up to you — and “make up” he did.

As soon as the bastard found her bedroom, it was game on. At this point they’re unsure of how much time have gone by, one arm holding her waist firmly in place on her plush bed while the other held one of her legs up so he could have more access to the little pussy he spent so long dreaming about, he needed to eat his girlfriend out properly, let her know he’s the one for her, that no one would do it better than him, even if his efforts make his jaw hurt like crazy the next morning.

Jeonghan was having the time of his life, hearing her soft voice turning into a higher pitch whenever she whined about him teasing for too long, that she was ready to take him. And of course, being as annoying as ever, he couldn’t let the humiliation be just that, no, he made her repeat it every time — What was that, doll? — he looks up as if her sweet moans interrupted his holy feast, his chin soaked with her juices, his lips glistening with her honey, this view could kill — I need you, Jeongie… — she finally had the strength to answer, making the devil grin. 

He had no intentions of stopping, no, he needed that little cunt on his face until he suffocated. The bastard kept going after the first, the second and for a miracle, the third orgasm was his last straw, and even though he could devour his stupid girl right there… — My pretty baby did so well for me, didn’t she? — he gave her a much deserved break before getting down to finish their business. 

It felt as though there was nothing else in the world, nothing other than them. Passionate slow kisses, arms cradling one another as their hands caressed each other’s bodies, this moment could last all of eternity and neither culprit would complain, not even once. Feeling his hard on pressing against her thighs was driving the Hufflepuff a little bit insane, tucking on his waistband made her mouth feel awfully empty.

The Slytherin didn’t even remember that being hard was so damn painful, a soft touch of her hands on his crotch was enough to make him hiss, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his lips together, the sight was pretty enough to make one cry, he’s was just such a beautiful boy, how could she not want to have him in her mouth? — Please, please, pleas-

— You don’t have to — he tried shushing her, not wanting his baby to do any work — Want to… Wanna make you feel good, Jeongie… — that whiny tone made his knees buckle quickly, mind racing far too fast for him to stop himself before just sitting back on his knees and letting his pretty girl have her way with him.

For someone who was in full control just fifteen minutes ago, Jeonghan surely sounded like a bitch in heat. Biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood but letting go before it happens so he can moan like a whore just before the pleasure becomes too much and causes him to throw his head back, looking at his girl was too much to ask from him, everything was too much. Looking just so pretty trying her hardest to fit his thick base into her mouth, not paying any mind to all of the gagging, working so hard to please her Hannie, he could bust just from this fact alone, the man was losing it. 

His appreciation for her hard work did not go unappreciated for long, not when he got his doll on all fours for him, shoulders pressing down on the mattress while he pounded that pussy into another dimension not even ten minutes after getting the head of his life. The squeaking of the bed, the sound of skin slapping, the begging for more whenever he grabbed her hair roughly and used it as a leash to pull her body into his, his chest pressing against her back while he praised his pretty thing for being “such a good puppy for him, taking all of his cum”, only for the moans to go louder when he slammed her face back into the bed, the soft squelchy sound coming from where their bodies kissed, the music in this room was Jeonghan’s favorite. 

These two were wild animals for a long time, their muscles would most definitely feel their efforts tomorrow, but right now, after having the best orgasms of their lives, the lovebirds were in absolute peace, staying in the bed for much longer than expected after sex; just holding each other, just loving each other. After a nice shower, a change of sheets and some instant ramen, tho? Ready to go to sleep, if anything; desperate to go to sleep. Jeonghan felt a slight shift on the bed alongside him, he could feel his preciosity leaving his grasp just before he succumbed to the tiredness of his bones, he reluctantly opened his eyes; she’s on her phone? 

— Did I fuck you so good that you’re writing poetry? — he asks, it’s a fair question — Shut up, Slytherin — the Hufflepuff answers just before hitting send message into her groupchat, telling her friends everything they could possibly need to know about the past two hours or so with just 11 words.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Any Stefek fic that is based off the movie Dirty Dancing? A friend of mine said she read a few but I can not find any! Thank you!!!

Nobody puts Sterek in a corner!

Awkward Dancing by StaciNadia

(1/1 I 1,193 I Teen)

Love and dancing come together at Argent's Resort.

I Can't Live Without Your Love by Val_Brown

(1/1 I 4,898 I Not Rated)

Derek stared out the car window as the green trees of the Oregon Coast highway rolled past. Every summer since he could remember they would head to a resort just outside of Bandon, Oregon. This was the last summer before he began college. The last summer before he had to start his future. He was going to make the most of it.

I Carried a Watermelon for Werewolf Equal Rights by alphasnark

(1/6 I 5,359 I Teen)

A Dirty Dancing AU.

feel the magic between you and I by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 11,432 I Mature)

“See?” Derek holds his arms out, “Everything’s working out great for you, and I still have no dance partner,” he turns to Erica, “Face it, no one is as good as you.”

“We still have one more,” she sing songs.

Derek peers over to the list, flinches when he sees Stiles’ name, “No.”

“You haven’t even seen me dance, and you’re already dismissing me?” Stiles sails into the room, tossing his bag in the corner as he does so and doing a dramatic spin to face them. “I got moves.”

Hot, sweet and wild by kishmet

(2/? I 14,665 I Mature)

When his father had announced the trip to the Argents' resort, Stiles had envisioned long days spent lounging on the beach with his laptop. He'd never imagined rigorous training sessions with the world's hottest, strictest dance coach.

Nobody puts Stiles in a corner by Stephaninnie

(7/7 I 39,565 I Mature)

Dirty Dancing AU where Stiles is Baby and Derek is Johnny and some things have changed but most things have stayed the same.

Certain Kind of Fool by saraubs

(1/1 I 36,530 I Mature)

Derek, who has been dragged against his will to the same resort his family visits every summer, is determined to spend the next two and a half months sequestered in his room. His only friend, his sister Laura, is preoccupied with her newly-bonded mate, and doesn't seem to care about anything but making him happy.

When Derek meets Stiles Stilinski, a sharp-tongued waiter, he thinks that this summer might not be a complete waste of time. There are only two problems: First, Stiles is human. Second, he doesn't believe in mates.

Dirty Dealing by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

(13/? I 47,100 I Teen)

Stiles had a plan for his final summer before college. He was going to intern at the Sheriff's station, get ahead on the plans for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, his dad had some hazy idea of him having 'one last summer' as a lazy teenager. Now, he's stuck cooling his heels and feeling very out of place at some stuck up country club, where he feel he has more in common with the staff than the other members. Of course, that could be because the staff include his new 'how have we never met before' best friend Scott and the 'it should be physically impossible for someone to be that perfect' new crush, Derek. Who apparently hates him - but not enough that he won't swallow his pride and put up with Stiles' presence when he's needed to help get Erica out of trouble...

I May Be Naive But I'm Not Stupid by FelOllie

(18/? I 73,472 I Explicit)

Stiles Stilinski is the young, naïve high school graduate who's headed off to Columbia University (with every intention of going on to Columbia Law) because that's what his parents expect of him. Even though, really, all he wants to do is take after his father and become a cop.

Derek Hale is the sexy, mysterious, just-this-side-of-standoffish-and-rude dance instructor. He and his partner, Lydia Martin, work the summers at the playing-at-posh mountain resort teaching the over-privileged adults and their spoiled kids how to do the merengue.

The summer proves to be exactly what Stiles needs to finally learn how to take control of his life.

But, what happens when it's over?

[hoe4hotchner]

Bit of a fic idea (not necessarily a request). But what about a friends to lovers with Aaron Hotchner? Like they've been friends since childhood, she's a few years younger though. She was in the drama club with Hayley and is the reason the 2 met and she was the best woman at the wedding. But she's had a crush on Aaron for the longest time,t though always dismissed it as she valued the friendship more. She's Jack's godmother and is there for Aaron whenever he needs. She is a Sargent in the Marines, so gets the long hours Aaron does. She was deployed when she got the news about Hayley being killed by Foyet and rushed back as soon as possible. She didn't take another mission for a while after to be there for Aaron. Further down the line she considers maybe telling him her feelings but he starts dating Beth so she doesn't. Eventually she starts dating a guy in the army and Aaron is jealous though is in denial about why. It is only after Beth and him break up and he hears that readers bf might propose that he fully snaps out of his denial and confesses his feelings

That's such a good idea!!!! 💕 I don't know if I'll write the full thing one day but here's 1/2 and essay worth of thoughts I have about the concept!!

I imagine it would be even more heartbreaking and kind of a slow burn if you and Hotch knew each other before the drama club meeting with Haley. Like maybe you lived on the same street as kids and played together every day. And without realizing it back then, you were always meant to be together, because you just completed each other.

You would be a little jealous about Hotch starting to date Haley and eventually marrying her, as you had thought it would be the two of you one day. But since you value the friendship so much, you don’t mention it to him, just wanting him to be happy in the end.

The wedding especially hurt to be part of for you, but you pull through, keeping a smile on your lips as you attend, give your toast, and do everything you can to help. Hotch is so thankful for your support during the wedding.

You’re ecstatic when you learn about baby Hotchner, and when Jack comes into the world, you’re the first person he calls, seeing you as more like family than his blood relatives. And it might be the best day of your life (at the time) when Haley mentions they’ve been talking about godparents and then asks if you want to be Jack’s godmother.

When you start realizing that you’ll never be truly happy as long as you’re around Hotch almost every day, you decide to join the Marines, throwing yourself into the work and quickly moving up the ranks. And when Haley dies, you’re, of course, sad for Hotch, but somehow you feel kind of desensitized to death and don’t know what to say. Still, you drop everything and rush back to Quantico to be there for him—not so much emotionally, but at least to help him around the house and such.

Life eventually finds its rhythm again, and even though neither of you ever speaks about that time, you can feel something shift in him. But then Beth enters the picture. You see how his face softens when he talks about her, how he starts looking ahead instead of behind, and you can’t bring yourself to disturb that happiness. You tell yourself this is what you want—that his happiness matters more than yours.

You didn’t expect to meet someone else, but that’s how life works. You didn’t think much of it at first, but there’s a comfort in his company. Aaron notices. He doesn’t say anything, of course, but you feel the shift in the way his gaze lingers when you mention your boyfriend.

And when he hears rumors of an upcoming proposal, he can’t ignore it any longer. He shows up at your door one night. For a moment, you think he’s come with good news, but he only stands there, jaw clenched, his fists tight. “I don’t want you to marry him,” he says, and then, “I—God, I should have said this a long time ago. You’re more than just my friend. You’ve always been more,” he admits.

And then you kiss, and it’s really passionate.

[yumeka-sxf]

2-year anniversary post

My blog is now 2-years old~!

After my last anniversary post, I had quite a list of projects planned; in addition to making posts for all the upcoming SxF content, like the movie, season 2, and the video game, I had other personal projects in mind as well. I wanted to start on my Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family series, which I was able to write five posts for as of now! (I've currently exhausted all the topics I wanted to discuss for that, but I may come up with more ideas later on). There was also the Spy x Family Character Tracker, which took me a while to get motivated to do, but once I did, I'm proud of how it turned out 😃 I also made a lot of scan posts this year too, like the workbooks and my series of miscellaneous collab scans.

But compared to my last anniversary, which was at a time when there was a lot of new SxF content on the horizon, we've been in a bit of a dry spell the past several months. Hype for the aforementioned movie, game, and anime season have died down, and merch and collabs have slowed as well, since there hasn't been new anime content to promote. But I consider it the calm before the storm, lol.

This is also why my posts have gotten a little less frequent lately - there hasn't been as much new SxF content in general besides the manga chapters, and as mentioned previously, I was able to check off the projects I had wanted to do. So as of now, I don't have much new content planned in the coming year besides continuing my Chronological Analysis on Twilight and Yor series when season 3 airs (still no release date yet, but I'm betting on spring of 2025). I'll also make posts for each anime episode like I did with season 2. And of course, I'll continue my manga chapter reviews, and make merch and scan posts when I can.

I've always tried to maintain a "quality over quantity," "only write when I have something to say," mentality for the blog. I don't want to force myself to write when I'm not motivated (this is also why I don't take part in community writing projects and the like). I also have other hobbies besides SxF, so I like to focus my limited free time on those when there isn't much going on in the SxF fandom. Occasionally I think to myself, "Hm, I haven't posted on Tumblr in a while," but if there isn't anything I feel like writing about at the time, it's better if I hold off rather than force myself to churn out something uninspiring.

But as I said, I feel like we're in a calm before the storm. Season 3 will already be exciting enough, but there's a good chance more content will follow. The next Jump Festa is scheduled for late December, and as usual, SxF will have a dedicated panel with the four Forger voice actors in attendance!

The movie and season 2 were announced at this event in 2022, so there's a good chance we'll get more juicy announcements this year! Even if not another movie, I'd be happy with more artbooks, collabs, and other things down the line! There's also a good chance an idea for another SxF project will inspire me and I'll start working on that. Who knows. But I do know SxF is still a popular series with many more years of content to produce! And I look forward to seeing, and blogging about, it all 😁

[ryttu3k]

Largely for reference, the conversations Jaheira's kids have with each other. Rion talks to Fig and Tate, Jord talks to Jhessem (and the plants); there's four bits of dialogue each.

Rion and Fig

"Poor dummy. Look at its arms - it just wants a hug."

"That's why it keeps losing. Dummy."

-

"Am I supposed to pretend that sword you're swinging wasn't stolen from my room?"

"Wrong. It's completely different."

"Funny. Because it looks just like the one I stole from mum when I was your age."

-

"Good. But you'll need to learn more than just the Harper forms."

"Is that why they threw you out? Because you didn't like their forms?"

"They didn't throw me out. I left. There was just… more to be learned elsewhere."

"Like the Flaming Fist?"

"No, now they threw me out."

-

"When can I move on to a real sword?"

"Oh, stop sulking. I had to teach myself in secret when I started. Mum didn't want to 'force me into the same life'."

"When did she change her mind?"

"About the third time I knocked her on her arse."

-

Rion and Tate

"Hey. You alright up here?"

"Yeah. I'll come down soon. Sorry."

"Don't need you to be sorry. Just checking that you're all right."

-

"You going to eat with us today?"

"I'm not… I'm not hungry. Really."

"Ah. Well, I could use a hand with the washing up - last time I let Fig do it, she blunted my best knife slaying 'soap-mephits'."

"Heh. All right."

-

"Would you like a book? I can have Jhessem drop one up. Maybe she'll even read it with you."

"Jhess…? Eh, no. That's all right. I'm all right."

"What if I tell her not to do the goblin voice?"

"I guess… that would be okay."

-

"You don't need to watch the door, you know. No one's getting in that we don't want to."

"They don't need to get past the door. They could just b-board it up and burn the place."

"True, I suppose. But you have something out there that you didn't, in your last house."

"…Fig."

"Fig."

Jord and Jhessem

"Bootprints on the tabletop. You haven't been poking around the top shelves again - have you, Jhessem?"

"Of course not. Her diaries are off-limits."

"And written in code too, I'm afraid."

"I know. It's not a very good code."

-

"Well, what are we reading now? More Alaundo?"

"No. I'm looking for any histories about this Absolute."

"I wouldn't bother. It's a new god - unknowable and mysterious."

"It's just another cult. And cults are common as muck."

"Huh. So sayeth the wise Jhessem."

-

"Try that hand-bill on fungal poultices. We might be tending the injured here before long."

"Perhaps you should brush up on the herb-lore yourself, Jord. Mother's vines are looking a little weedy."

"Why are the quiet ones always the cruellest?"

-

"That reminds me. I'm working on our family tree - I've already placed Rion. You're next."

"Hah. Well, I'm afraid you won't find us dangling from any of the same branches, sproutling."

"So we'll graft on another. A druid should know how to do that, shouldn't he?"

"I… suppose he should, at that."

Jord to plants

"You three have been just guzzling the water recently. Save some for the others, all right?"

"Coming along nicely there, Floki. Good, strong roots."

"Those leaves are a little darker than I'd like, Felicis. Bad soil? Hm. Don't tell mother…"

"Oh, come on, Ferdinand, I just trimmed you."

-

Rion and Jord are definitely trying their best to be big siblings! Rion is very gentle with Tate (who, from that last dialogue, seems to have experienced some trauma before being adopted by Jaheira - there's a letter that suggests his biological parents were amongst the first taken by the cult), Jhessem is a character, Jord and his plants are adorable, and Rion and Fig are very much cut from the same cloth.

[perpetualcontrolleddrowning]

Moshang Fic - Part 2

half of something else

JRaylin441

Summary: The tomfoolery continues

Content Warnings: blackmail and some vague talk of bad childhoods and emotional neglect

Read it on ao3 here (x)

Read Part 1 (x)

Read Part 3 (x)

Mobei-Jun is not going to ask for help. He is not the sort of demon who does such shameful things. Luckily, Tianlang-Jun has made it clear that he is the sort of demon that likes to stop by and offer unsolicited help, so that will not be a barrier.

He was not expecting it to be so effective, using words rather than actions. Qinghua still ran away, but it seemed as though he noticed, this time. That Mobei-Jun was interested.

There is something hopeful in Mobei-Jun's chest. This does not often happen. He was raised in a family where trusting others, hoping for things. These were not done. To be able to do so now...

He has been attempting to court Qinghua for years. That lowly general had no right asking for permission after Mobei-Jun had cooked Qinghua's meal for the feast the night before. He is lucky his head is not displayed as a trophy this very moment.

"Well you're all smiles today," Tianlang-Jun drawls as he slinks his way into the room where Mobei-Jun is consulting with the royal tailor to plan out new pieces to both his and Qinghua's wardrobes. This is patently untrue. Mobei-Jun's face is flat as ever. "Turn down that sunshine or your human might start to get jealous."

"Tianlang-Jun."

"Present and accounted for. But that's not as interesting as the obvious joy I'm seeing from you." Tianlang-Jun navigates effortlessly around the silent tailor and chooses a seat for himself. "Has our plan been working, then?"

"Qinghua came to talk last night." He needs to give a little ground for any of this to work.

"Oh, did he? Good. I'd hoped he might."

"He said you stole his list."

"I most certainly did, and you're welcome for that. It sounds like you two were able to get all cozy because of it. Did he fuck you?"

Mobei-Jun is holding one arm out for the tailor to measure. Without even glancing away, he manifests a dagger of ice and hurls it in Tianlang-Jun's direction. He knows it's not going to hit, and he is right. Tianlang-Jun knocks it out of the air and laughs good-naturedly when it hits the wall and shatters behind him.

"Not yet, then. You're far too pent-up." Mobei-Jun can feel a tic in the muscle behind his eyebrow. He wants to banish Tianlang-Jun from ever setting foot in his palace. If he thought it would work, he might. Most likely, though, it would simply increase whatever this absurd behavior is.

"You took his list."

"I did. You already said that."

"Give it back."

"He knows what he needs to do to get it back, and you're welcome for that. I'm doing all of this for you, you know."

"Give it back."

"If this is the kind of brilliant negotiating technique that you bring to the table, then I'm suddenly understanding a lot better just how much you rely on your little human."

"Give it back."

"I'm beginning to think you don't want me here. Which, of course, couldn't possibly be true, since I'm a delight and also could defeat you in front of your entire court."

The tailor clears their throat delicately. Mobei-Jun shoots a murderous look in Tianlang-Jun's direction. Tianlang-Jun smiles back guilelessly.

Mobei-Jun pauses for a moment. Orders the tailor to leave the room. If they are going to have this conversation, he would rather not continue to lose face in front of his subjects. The tailor follows the command quickly and silently. This is the kind of obedience Mobei-Jun is accustomed to.

When the tailor leaves, he waits for Tianlang-Jun to continue with the irritating chatter. Tianlang-Jun has a ridiculously smug smile on his face. He does not speak.

Mobei-Jun does not speak.

They sit in silence for almost a quarter shichen. Mobei-Jun needs to remember that he can't win in a test of patience against a demon who spent the last few decades alone under a mountain. He could wait here for several shichen as well, but he does need an answer, and he has several more things he must do today if he has any hope of maintaining Qinghua's good will.

"Last night."

"When you didn't fuck Qinghua," Tianlang-Jun says, almost immediately. As if he had been preparing that response. Mobei-Jun wants to try and kill him again.

"I attempted to use more words." Mobei-Jun's face is burning at this admission. This is the only thing that has worked in his years-long attempt to court Qinghua. This is the path forward.

"Oh fabulous!" Tianlang-Jun's grin goes from smug to eager, and he leans forward over the space between them. "You listened to my advice! And how did your man of words respond to it?"

"He listened." For many of the people Mobei-Jun talks to, this would be a response that would be difficult to parse. Tianlang-Jun lets out a long, low whistle.

"Oh, so he really liked it, then.  I knew that would work for him. Humans, they always want you to say things out loud and communicate. My Xiyan always wanted that too. And she wasn't even as into words as your man is."

"You knew that would work."

"It wasn't hard to figure out." Mobei-Jun can feel the way his face slams shut at those words. "Oh. You really hadn't figured that out yet? This might be worse than I thought."

"How did you know." This is the extent of Mobei-Jun's ability. He has never asked for help like this before. If it wasn't Qinghua, he still would not be. This is not something he does. He does not have the words.

"He keeps lists. He keeps a brush behind his ear. He writes things down. His room is full of books. When you ask about the books, he can talk about them for hours. How did you not know?"

"Qinghua has always behaved in such a way."

"Ah, so you wrote it off and took it all for granted." Tianlang-Jun strokes at his chin as though he is an elder stroking a beard, even though he has no such beard. Mobei-Jun reaches deep for the calm inside him to keep himself from starting another fight. "The same trap that many old married couples can fall into, except you aren't even married yet. Haven't even kissed yet!"

Mobei-Jun sits in silence for several more minutes, sifting through the raging fury within himself to try and find words to ask the questions he needs to ask, rather than starting and losing another fight.

"What words did you say. To your human." He can't make it sound like a question. He can't concede that ground.

"Ah, the age-old question. What words will woo a human? What words worked so well last night, that you've already come around to my side?"

"I told him that he is needed here."

"Appreciation! That not a bad start at all, considering all the things he seems to run around here. I can't read that ridiculous list of his, but I know enough to see that he seems to be managing everything on the demon and human sides of things. Appreciation would probably always go well with that one. Couldn't hurt to use some flattery as well. He definitely has little in the way of self-esteem, so he might be easy to get to that way."

Mobei-Jun throws another ice dagger, because Tianlang-Jun has already demonstrated that it will not cause him to leave and because it helps him feel better about sitting here in the same room as this demon.

"Qinghua is aware that he is useful."

"I mean, of course he's useful, but surely you must find him attractive too? Not that I could ever understand just how that happened, there's no way you would be putting up this much of a fuss if you didn't want to fuck him."

Mobei-Jun was wrong. He won't sit here for this. When he stands to leave, Tianlang-Jun makes a cooing, cloying kind of noise and stands up too. His arm drapes over Mobei-Jun's shoulders in a way that makes his skin crawl.

"Don't go, don't go. I forgot how young you are. I'll be kinder, promise." Tianlang-Jun holds out his hands in a sign of innocence and defenselessness. Mobei-Jun doesn't buy it for a moment, but he does sit back down. "I wasn't kidding. It seems like your man doesn't have a very high regard for himself. Flattery about his physical appearance could probably get you far. Especially if you keep this whole appreciation for his work up at the same time."

"I do not need your advice on how to say nice things to my advisor."

Tianlang-Jun stares at him in disbelief for a second. "Right. Which is why you definitely did ask me for that exact thing at the start of this conversation."

"It is time for dinner."

"All this work I do, and you're just going to try to walk away from our conversation without a thank you. You don't even deserve the dinner surprise I've got set up for you." Tianlang-Jun somehow manages to sail out of the room ahead of Mobei-Jun, turned to face him and continue the conversation while he is walking. "You still should definitely keep up with those letters, though. He appreciates the written word, your boy."

Mobei-Jun grunts rather than admit that any of this has been helpful in any sort of way. Tianlang-Jun laughs and glides down the hallway toward the banquet hall, since everyone else needs to be there before the king anyway.

When Mobei-Jun sits down at the table in the front and center of the room, he is ready for it to be a banquet like many others he has attended in his life. These are boring moments of posturing. He will sit and be quiet. People will look at him and decide that he is thinking or saying whatever it is that they want him to be saying, and then he will leave. And then they will leave. He has done this so many times in his life.

Qinghua has an open invitation, by nature of the multiple courting acts Mobei-Jun has performed, to sit at the head table. He does not. Instead, Qinghua usually sits at a table along the side of the room. Mobei-Jun hates this. It does not appropriately communicate his rank and value in the court. Mobei-Jun loves this. It allows him a much better view of Qinghua than he would ever get if he were sitting at his side.

When Mobei-Jun arrives to the banquet, Qinghua is not in his seat. This should be considered a high offense, considering that the king has arrived. Mobei-Jun won't enforce that. Qinghua can do whatever he wants.

It is a notable change in behavior. He likes to arrive early so he can listen to gossip and conversation. He says it's one of the most helpful times for his map of important people. Mobei-Jun suspects that, whatever is happening, Tianlang-Jun is involved. He seems bent on disrupting every pattern and ritual in the court.

When Mobei-Jun sits, the food is brought out. Immediately, the room explodes into noise. All illusions of formality disappear. There are several rotting animal carcasses brought to the center tables. Blood in pitchers. Fruit and vegetables and some minimal starch.

Usually, a specific platter is set before Mobei-Jun. Today, there are two smaller platters set to either side of him.

Mobei-Jun does not spend time looking around or concerned. The food will come when it will come. Or it will not. He does not particularly care about eating either way.

And then, from the side door into the banquet hall, Qinghua comes skittering in. Mobei-Jun automatically finds himself orienting all his attention in that direction.

Qinghua is carrying a dish of food. This is very strange, because Mobei-Jun is the one who cooks for him, or he eats what is prepared by the kitchens. If someone else in the court has dared to cook for him, Mobei-Jun will find them and remove their heads from their shoulders.

Qinghua steps up to the dais and places the dish before his king. It is in a low, wide bowl. There are light noodles, a dark sauce that smells of meat, and cut carrots and vegetables. Mobei-Jun looks down at it in confusion and then up at Qinghua. The dish is not as elaborate or beautifully arranged as the things he normally eats. There is a possible explanation for this. Mobei-Jun will not consider it until Qinghua says that it is the case.

"Zha jiang mian," Qinghua mumbles. He shoots a significant look toward Tianlang-Jun as he sets it down. Tianlang-Jun nods back. Another departure from their typical pattern. Another clear sign of interference from Tianlang-Jun. Mobei-Jun will not consider the possible explanation until Qinghua says that it is the case. It does not take long for the explanation to come. If someone stares at Qinghua silently for long enough, he usually moves to fill the silence. "You said the other night that it's your favorite food." Mobei-Jun did say that. He said that because one time, early on in their knowing each other, Qinghua had eaten it, cooked by one of the few cooks at the time that knew how to prepare human cuisine. It was one of the first things he had expressed enjoying about the Northern Palace. Mobei-Jun does not like food, but he wants to know about the things that make Qinghua happy. Make him willing to stay. "I just thought, if I was going to make you something, it would probably be best to make something you would actually like, since I know you don't really like much food at all, most of the time. And that seemed like a big waste of time, to try and make something if you wouldn't even like it."

"Qinghua made this dish," Mobei-Jun clarifies, because he needs to be absolutely sure.

"Ah ha ha, yeah." Qinghua scratches at the back of his head. "Yeah, I made it for you. You know. You cook noodles and stuff for me all the time and I thought I should return the favor." Another glance at Tianlang-Jun, but that does not matter right now. "So, it might not be as good as some of the other stuff you get to eat all the time, and it's fine if you want to throw it away and eat your regular stuff. I had the kitchen prepare a backup meal too, so they can bring that out if you want. Actually, let me just go get that right now. That would probably be better. Yeah. Okay. Wait here and I'll-"

Mobei-Jun grabs Qinghua's wrist tightly. Not so tightly that it will bruise. He knows the difference and carefully maintains it. It causes Qinghua's mouth to snap shut, the way physical touch often does. Before Qinghua can run off and ruin it, Mobei-Jun scoops a generous bite of the noodles into his mouth. Qinghua watches with the wide eyes of cornered prey as he chews it slowly and swallows. Only when Mobei-Jun feels that he has established his point does he let go.

"Go sit down, Qinghua," he orders, because Qinghua cooked for him and presented that food to him in front of the entire court. It's a blatant act of demonic courting and Mobei-Jun will not stand for any hint of a suggestion that it might be taken away.

Qinghua is still watching him with wide eyes, even as he pulls his hand back and holds it against his chest.

"Yes, My King." There's a panicked little smile at the corner of his mouth and Mobei-Jun wants to bite it. Bite it until his teeth are bloodied and then bite down Qinghua's neck until he is scarred and claimed in a way that will never be mistaken. He'll mount Qinghua now, before the entire court, and then dress him only in the finest of gauzy silks, make it impossible to cover the mark of his king's teeth.

He does not do this. Qinghua would not like it. Probably. It will at least require further information gathering. Instead, he holds Qinghua's gaze as he savors the entirety of the dish before him. Every now and then, he pauses his staring at Qinghua to move his gaze across the court, meeting the eyes of every demon present. Let it be very clear what is going on right now.

The food is just like any other food. He does not particularly enjoy the experience of chewing. The texture of chewed food on his tongue. The way it freezes as it moves down his throat before landing heavy in his stomach.

It does not matter. This is food that Qinghua prepared for him. He presented it before the entire court. Mobei-Jun relishes each bite.

*~*~*

Here's a fun fact: Shang Qinghua knows how almost every person in this universe likes to fuck. Or have sex, whatever. Even the characters who never got to have their own on-screen erotica. It's not just because he's a horny pervert, though that is definitely true. It's also just, he's always found it to be an important detail about a character. How does someone behave, when they're being vulnerable and intimate with someone? Are they even able to be that open? Do they control the encounter from start to finish?

This means that, theoretically, he knows exactly what Mobei-Jun is like in bed. Probably. Any doubt comes from the fact that, one time, he managed to coax some details out of a very drunk Cucumber-bro. It is possible to change things. Butterfly effect and all that shit. He definitely never wrote his son to be the kind of man who cries all over the person he's fucking and begs for the opportunity to bottom or suck a dick. Life events change people.

So, that means that he might not know everything there is to know about how Mobei-Jun behaves when he is having sex with someone. Shang Qinghua is reminding himself of this fact over and over again as he once again finds himself standing outside his bedroom door late at night.

The door opens at the first knock. Mobei-Jun is similarly dressed-down, but does not have the same groggy, grumpy expression of the newly awakened. Shang Qinghua can see from the doorway that there is a fire roaring happily in the fireplace, and there is some level of heat radiating out from the doorway. It's bringing a soft blue flush to his king's cheeks. Shang Qinghua is not looking at that, because if he looks at that he's going to explode and then it'll be a whole mess for the servants to clean up and, more than that, it will make it so that he never gets an answer about all of this, and he needs for there to be an answer.

"Explain this," Shang Qinghua demands, slapping the folded parchment of a letter against his king's chest. This potentially has the added benefit of pressing his hands up against the exposed skin of Mobei-Jun's collarbones and tits, but Shang Qinghua wouldn't know anything about that, because he's not paying attention. He doesn't even notice the way that he can feel the cold of his king's skin through the thin layer of the parchment, the way that the harsh, carved lines of his musculature cause the parchment to bend and conform to the dizzying shape of him.

Shang Qinghua isn't paying attention to that. Because there is something infinitely more pressing in the words contained on that parchment. It was waiting for him (along with his daily pile of mail and the desperate relief from the return of the Overarching To Do List), sitting innocently on his desk as if its departure hadn't spelled potential disaster for everyone in both realms. It had worked beautifully as a mechanism of blackmail. Shang Qinghua is going to have to figure out a fail-safe right now or at least in the next couple days, because he doesn't have enough to do already but he also cannot have something like this happen again.

The letter had sat there, on the bottom of the pile of letters, with his name scrawled across the top in familiar handwriting, just as it had been for the past few days. 

Qinghua,

The meal you prepared for me was appreciated. Thank you.

You wore the colors of my house at the banquet tonight. I appreciate seeing you in blue. It will always be a color you are welcome to wear.

You organized an effective banquet. Well done.

Again, there was no signature. Again, there was no need for a signature. Shang Qinghua knew immediately who wrote it, even if it is utterly impossible. Obviously, that is his king's handwriting. Those are his king's stiff sentences and phrases.

But the words are not at all the sort of thing his king would say. He has known this demon for the past thirty years. Since he was nothing more than a headstrong adolescent doing everything he could to make himself something remarkable among his family members.

These are not the sort of things that Mobei-Jun says. He knows how to read between the lines of what he says. These are attempts to thank him, praise him. This is not the sort of thing Mobei-Jun says.

Something is wrong. Based on the experience that Shang Qinghua has been having for the past few days, he would bet all of his staggeringly unfairly low income on this all being due to the influence of Tianlang-Jun.

His king still hasn't answered, hasn't even moved, an unfairly beautiful ice statue under Shang Qinghua's hand.

"Explain." He demands again. Something in it must make it clear that he will not be moved from this point, because Mobei-Jun reaches up to take the letter from his hands. He does not go through the motions of pretending to look over the letter. They both know he wrote it and that he knows what it is.

"Qinghua deserves to know that he is appreciated."

How dare he! Saying that sort of thing out here in the middle of the hallway where anyone in the entire court could hear him. Shang Qinghua shoots a terrified glance down both ends of the hallway. There are multiple demonic servants making their way through the hallway for various reasons. At least two of them are running errands specifically assigned by Shang Qinghua, because he is relentlessly causing his own downfall at every moment of every situation.

"What are you doing? Out here in front of everyone! Let me into your room and we can talk about this quieter." This happens sometimes, when Shang Qinghua gets anxious enough, where he'll just start ordering everyone around until things are exactly the way that he wants them to be. He usually doesn't even notice the tone or words that he used until after he finished speaking. Then, afterward, he sits in horror as his mind plays back everything that he just said. Sometimes he has to go and retrace all his steps until he can do damage control for all the delicate politics he disrupted.

When Mobei-Jun was younger, he would become offended as soon as he would dare to presume to give him an order. Sometimes it would result in Shang Qinghua smacked clear across the hallway. More recently, especially in the past year or so, it has more resulted in unnerving cooperation and compliance from Mobei-Jun, who will follow wherever he is led and do what he is told with a peaceful, half-smile on his face.

This is another one of those times. Shang Qinghua grabs ahold of him and tugs him into the room. Instead of resisting or pushing back in any way, Mobei-Jun follows easily at the slightest pressure. It's bad, it's dangerous, because it means that Shang Qinghua is inside the room faster than he was prepared to be. He's standing in the firelight, watching it play across the planes of his king, relishing in the strange comfort of the warmth in this room. It's before he had a chance to brace himself.

He can feel his mouth going dry. Resists the urge to lick his lips like the pervert he is but tries to pretend not to be. Ends up licking his lips anyway because he can't stop imagining what it would be like to lick Mobei-Jun's washboard abs that are on display through the very loosely tied single robe that he is wearing.

"My King," he orders, because he needs to distract himself now before things get even more off track. "What are you saying here? What is happening? Is Tianlang-Jun blackmailing you? As your primary advisor and the person who runs almost all of your kingdom, you need to tell me if you're being blackmailed into doing things you don't want to do."

Mobei-Jun is staring down at him with those same softened eyes but a slight furrow to his kingly brow, now.

"Is Qinghua being blackmailed?"

"What? No, not anymore. That's not the point. I was asking if someone is blackmailing you!"

"What would make Qinghua think this King has been blackmailed?"

"What do you mean?" Shang Qinghua slaps the paper against Mobei-Jun's chest again. "This letter is why I think you're being blackmailed. My King, this is completely out of character. How else was I supposed to take this other than as a cry for help?"

"This letter is out of character." His voice is flat as the frozen tundra outside, in the way that it tends to get when he is asking a question but would rather demand someone provide further context than admit that he might not understand something. Sometimes, Shang Qinghua starts to think too closely about what it means about him that this is his dream man. He doesn't let himself think about that for too long.

"Um? Yes? If you do not remember, My King, it was just a few years ago that you were hitting me around whenever you felt like it. A letter full of compliments to me is something that you have never done, not once, in the decades that I have known you." The furrow of Mobei-Jun's brow carves itself deeper and deeper with every word that Shang Qinghua says, and it's kind of sending him into a fucking panic, because he's clearly pissing off this powerful demon in front of him, and he doesn't even know what about this situation is pissing him off, so he doesn't have anything he can pull off the Overarching To Do List, or even add to it, that would help to fix it.

"Qinghua sees this as a change in character."

They're standing there in the middle of his king's cavernous and beautiful room, staring at each other like idiots, saying the same thing back and forth to each other over and over. Shang Qinghua wants to hit his head against the wall. He wants to grab his King's thighs and hide his face in the strong muscles there and also use it as an excuse to never look him in the eye again.

"It's a pretty big change from how you have literally ever acted before, yeah. I think I've already said that." Mobei-Jun is just looking grumpier and grumpier and Shang Qinghua is about to lose his mind.

"Qinghua is appreciated. This comment being a departure from normal behavior is a failure of this king." Mobei-Jun even fucking reaches out with his hands to grasp tightly to Shang Qinghua's upper arms as he says this. He could probably pull away and escape if he tried to, Mobei-Jun would let him. It's more like he wants to make sure that he has Shang Qinghua's full attention before he says this. Shang Qinghua would have really appreciated more warning and also for his full attention to never be demanded because this is the literal worst case scenario of all time ever.

"Ah," he says, like an idiot. "Right. Yes. Well, in that case, your advisor should go continue to work on the things that made him so appreciated." Shang Qinghua can feel himself squirming to pull away from Mobei-Jun's grip. He lets go, just like he knew he would, but his expression is tilting more and more from frustrated to bereft, if you're someone who just happens to have known him since he was very young and are therefore able to read the micro-expressions he uses in his everyday life. "So enjoyed this talk. Please stop saying such things out in the main hallway, since it really will open you up for someone to come along and blackmail you." A step back toward the door. "If they haven't already started doing that." Shang Qinghua makes it all the way to the door unimpeded. Mobei-Jun is still just standing there. "Which I really think they have and you should definitely tell your main advisor about it."

With that last statement, he edges his way out the door and slams it shut behind him. That was strange, strange, strange. He never wants to do that again. He had to leave that room or he never would. He finally has his Overarching To Do List back, and that's really where he should be spending his time right now. He's fallen behind, surely, after a whole day without it.

He skitters down the hallway, clinging to the shadows even though he has more right than almost every demon here to be in this palace.

He slams the door to his office closed behind him, blocking out that whole interaction.

*~*~*

"You will help me." Mobei-Jun slams an empty sheet of parchment onto the table before Tianlang-Jun.

"Oh, will I?" He drawls. Mobei-Jun hates him. "And what will I be helping the peerless Mobei-Jun with?"

"Letters." The words are gritted out through Mobei-Jun's teeth. He is not the sort of man who asks for help.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that, darling." Tianlang-Jun sprawls out further, clearly relishing this concession to his abilities. "Maybe it's the way that you were mumbling. I'm afraid you'll have to say that again."

Mobei-Jun begins to walk away. He has to clench his teeth, physically restrain himself, drag himself back. This is for Qinghua. Things have been better, ever since Tianlang-Jun started interfering and advising. It's been awful, but it's also been effective. More progress this week than the last few decades together.

Or, well, not really, is it? He has made progress on his own. When they met, Qinghua was nothing more than a trembling, terrified servant who would say whatever he thought it would take to make it through the next day alive. It was manipulative and brilliant, looking back, all the ways that he managed to wriggle his way into the important places of Mobei-Jun's life in a way that would make it all fall to pieces at his removal. The sort of thing that has made him invaluable as a member of Mobei-Jun's court.

Mobei-Jun had spent too many years treating him like the pathetic mess that he pretended he was. By the time he realized that Shang Qinghua was one of the only places in the world where he felt safe and calm, where he was secure enough to arrive at any time and fall asleep without a care in the world, they had already established patterns.

It's been years of Mobei-Jun picking through all their habits and patterns so he can find the things he does that push Qinghua into behaving like that old, terrified version of himself, instead of the terrified version of himself that he tends to just default into at all times of the day.

He did do that work. He did make that progress. Qinghua no longer flinches every time he moves too quickly or expresses displeasure. Qinghua allows him to cook for him almost every day. Qinghua knows to call on him when he needs help. Those are things that he built without the help of Tianlang-Jun. It had been enough to get them to this place. They eat together at times. They talk. They spend time together in the same places.

But, ever since that realization of safety, Mobei-Jun has been working toward something more. He desires Qinghua the way that a demon desires a spouse. He could live like this, but he would like to move forward. He had resigned himself to the impossibility of it.

Then Tianlang-Jun arrived.

Now, he has Qinghua in his rooms at night. He stands closer than he ever does, stares back when Mobei-Jun is staring at him.

He made progress before. He has made more progress with the influence of Tianlang-Jun. And so, he will ask for help. If this is what it will take, is it really all that bad?

"I need your help with writing a letter to Qinghua." He manages to say the words because this is what it will take for him to finally be allowed near Qinghua in that way. That is why he is doing all of this. With that perspective, it isn't even that awful, saying it all out loud.

"Well why didn't you say so right at the beginning?" Tianlang-Jun laughs, "Because I've known you've needed my help from the very first one that you sent."

Grit teeth. Breathe. This is for Qinghua.

He had not written out multiple drafts of any of his letters. They were the sort of things that he wrote as quickly as possible because he would stop himself if he thought about it for too long. Tianlang-Jun is right that Qinghua is a man of words. Mobei-Jun is most decidedly not that. He has never enjoyed expressing his thoughts and feelings aloud. Even the brief moments of writing these letters have been excruciating.

Excruciating enough that he remembers everything he wrote. He did not make multiple drafts, but he is able to replicate the letters easily, and sets the contents before Tianlang-Jun now. It might not matter. This might just be a technique to humiliate him. From all accounts, it would seem the Heavenly Demon is already reading everything he sends to Qinghua. Still, he write them out. In case Tianlang-Jun missed one.

It does not take Tianlang-Jun long to read through all that he has written. "I must say, I'm impressed. You give the appearance of being so stoic and stubborn, but this little Mobei-Jun is capable of learning." Tianlang-Jun holds up the most recent letter. "Look at this! A true effort to praise him for his hard work and to compliment his appearance! It's all still short and terribly phrased, of course, but you must have had a worthy teacher at some point, to make you this willing to listen."

The teacher was Qinghua. While he was almost the same age as Mobei-Jun, he had always seemed to hold the wisdom of many years beyond that, when he would advise Mobei-Jun on this or that. His mind for strategy. His ability to step into a room and gain a handle on the complicated interpersonal dynamics between every other person there. Mobei-Jun has only managed to make it this far into his rule because he learned early on to listen to whatever Qinghua tells him to do, and to comply. The fact that this also often causes Qinghua to smile at him, sometimes even praise him, only adds to the benefits.

"And how did your trembling little human respond, when you sent such a letter to him?"

Mobei-Jun refuses to be embarrassed by this part. He is the king of his lands, of the Northern Desert, second-in-command to the emperor of the demon realm. He does not feel embarrassment in front of anyone. Well, he occasionally feels it in front of Qinghua, but that is a separate situation, where his titles and accolades mean nothing at all.

"He believes that I am being blackmailed."

"Ha! Okay, yeah, I can see where he would get an idea like that." Tianlang-Jun reads through some of the letters again. "'The meal you prepared for me was appreciated.' You do sound a little bit like you're being held at sword point."

"If you will not offer help, I will take my things and depart."  Mobei-Jun is aware that he has signed up to stand her and be mocked. He is only allowing this because he believes there may be some helpful information, hidden within the rest of it.

"Of course, of course. So, your little human thinks you're being forced into saying these sorts of things. That doesn't bode well for you, kid. Have you ever said anything kind to him? In the whole time you've known him?" His voice is a combination of mocking and incredulous. Mobei-Jun returns to the now well-worn fantasy of ripping out his throat.

"I have." Certainly he must have. They've known each other for years.

"Name one time," Tianlang-Jun says, with all the smug challenge of someone who already knows that he won't be able to. It makes Mobei-Jun all the more furious to realize that he can't think of a single time.

"I have shown my regard for Qinghua in my actions." This is true. Mobei-Jun is not the sort of person to treat the person he cares for with little regard. He will never be that person. His regard simply takes the form of protection, coming when called, following instructions, listening to Qinghua when he talks, obeying when he asks for things to be different.

"See, this is exactly what I was talking about." Tianlang-Jun rifles through the letters again, probably for dramatic effect rather than any actual need to reread them. There are not so many words there that he would not already be aware of the content. Mobei-Jun wants to rip them from his hands, cast them through a shadow portal until his inadequacies are far from anyone's sight. "It's not just that your human is a man of words. Humans are people who enjoy words. It's a whole thing." He waves a hand lazily through the air, as if this should all be foregone knowledge. "They want to hear you tell them the things you like about them, that you appreciate them, that you think they're beautiful, that you care for them and want them. If you don't say these things aloud, humans don't understand them."

Mobei-Jun isn't sure that's true. There is only one other human he has some level of familiarity with, and Luo Binghe's Shen Qingqiu doesn't seem to share that trait at all. From what Mobei-Jun has witnessed, he would put any demon to shame for his tendency to speak with actions over words.

On the topic of Luo Binghe, though, that is a man who requires those kinds of words and affirmations. He may be part demon, but he's also part human, and he was raised by human. Does that mean that his tendencies should be taken as the model for all?

None of this matters. Tianlang-Jun is not some wise sage who knows the answers to the human race. In fact, Mobei-Jun can't recall any stories of him having interacted with humans much beyond the one that ended him in so much trouble. None of his words should be taken as truth. Instead, he should merely acknowledge that, whether or not Tianlang-Jun understands people, he does seem to understand Qinghua. And, once he is able to focus past the way that this fact rankles against his pride, Mobei-Jun needs to use it.

"I used words. You say that they are the wrong ones. Qinghua thought they were said against my will. This is the matter in which I am requesting your wisdom." He needs to get them back to the useful part of all of this. He doesn't have time to deal with any of the nonsense that Tianlang-Jun loves to hear himself spew.

"Of course he accused you of being blackmailed. Just look at the few letters you gave me. Listen to the words you say to him. You can't remember a single time you said a kind word to him. It won't matter which compliments you try to pick at the beginning. He won't believe any of them!" Mobei-Jun can feel the foreboding snarl creeping into his expression. There is ice crackling and crawling up the walls in the corners of the room. Tianlang-Jun pauses for a moment to look pointedly at the ice and then back at Mobei-Jun with a raised eyebrow. When Mobei-Jun refuses to acknowledge any of what he may be trying to communicate, Tianlang-Jun continues.

"It's like this. Think of what would happen, if there were another demon who had ignored you or undermined your authority for the past ten years. And then, suddenly, one day they bring a freshly killed corpse of a legendary beast to your feet, the clearest declaration of serious intent that someone could give. This same demon that has been an active threat to your standing and the stability of your position for the past decade. What would you do, with such a declaration?"

Mobei-Jun knows that this is a story meant to illuminate his own situation. Even so, Tianlang-Jun is looking at him expectantly, and he clearly wants an answer. Mobei-Jun will answer. Only because his mind is not made for these kind of metaphors and double-meanings and he will not understand until it is spelled out for him.

"I would think the trophy to be some kind of trick or poison. Perhaps an attempt to remove me from my current position."

"Exactly. And what if it was proven that it was none of those things? That this demon had suddenly and drastically changed their behavior from the past years? Would you think that some exterior force might be influencing or controlling them? That there may be some kind of blackmail involved?"

Mobei-Jun can feel the beginnings of understanding brewing in his mind. Still, it is clear that this is something Tianglang-Jun wants to follow to the end.

"The option would cross my mind."

"And what would this demon need to do, then, to convince you that this was a genuine declaration of intent? One they pursued of their own free will and interest?"

"I would not accept their declaration. I have no need for another consort."

"Right," Tianlang-Jun drawls mockingly. "But let's say that, hypothetically, you were going to let them convince you they were genuine. What would a demon like that need to do?"

It is hard, for Mobei-Jun to imagine things like this. He does not want to consider the courtship actions of anyone other than Qinghua. He does not bother himself with hypotheticals or the motivations of others. That is what Qinghua manages. Mobei-Jun learned long ago that Qinghua is simply better at it than he will ever be, and at this point is quite happy to simply go where he is led.

He tries now. To imagine what it would be like, if someone who had been a threat to him started to suddenly behave in a blatantly romantic manner. What would have to change for him to believe it was their genuine intention?

It's impossible. He would send the demon away at the first indication of such a thing. He has made his efforts to court Qinghua clear to the entire court. Anyone who would dare to do something as disrespectful as interrupt an active courting with one of their own would be banished from the court before they could make anything close to a point. If he didn't kill them where they stood, for the slight against Qinghua's honor. Interrupting an ongoing courtship would be tantamount to saying that Qinghua did not deserve the king's full attention. This entire premise is impossible to think of.

Qinghua, then. Perhaps it will be easier to imagine this way. He had cooked a meal for Mobei-Jun the night before. This represents a shocking change in behavior patterns from the past few years. Mobei-Jun is tempted to take it at face value but, thanks to his more recent comments, it is more likely that this was the result of some kind of blackmailing or exterior influence.

What would it take for Mobei-Jun to start to believe that Qinghua was doing this of his own free will? He would need to continue doing so, even after Tianlang-Jun is shown to not be influencing his actions. He would want to see him do so with the kind of shaking panic that comes from his moments of vulnerability, rather than the kind of shaking panic that arises when he is being forced into doing something and he's angry about it.

"It would need to happen more than once, and appear genuine."

"Exactly! Good boy!" Tianlang-Jun praises, as if any approval other than Qinghua's has ever mattered to Mobei-Jun. "So, since you clearly need your hand held to get there, that's what your human needs as well. For years, I would bet you've only been trying to court him in a demonic fashion. I bet you've even challenged the poor coward to spar. For humans, they don't court like that. It's just threatening. So you've been threatening him for years, and then you suddenly start sending him letters declaring your admiration of him. Of course he's going to be suspicious."

"You are suggesting that I simply need to speak genuinely and remain constant."

"I never thought you'd get there. Are you proud of yourself?" Tianlang-Jun has kicked his feet up on the desk before him, lounging like a king surveying his conquered lands.

Mobei-Jun does not wait around for him to continue to inflate his own ego. He turns and walks from the room, even as he hears Tianlang-Jun talking cheerfully to himself.

"Why, thank you, great Tianlang-Jun. Your incredible wisdom regarding the humans is everything I need to finally pursue the man of my heart. Where would I be-"

Mobei-Jun moves outside of hearing range long before he is finished with whatever useless drivel he has to offer. He has another letter to write.

*~*~*

It has been almost a full day since Tianlang-Jun had last sought Shang Qinghua out, and instead of relaxing, it's just winding Shang Qinghua up tighter and tighter. He's jumping at every footstep and watching around every corner. He has The Overarching To Do List to manage, as well as his daily to do list that he's drawn from it, but he left so much space in his daily timetable for the flexibility he'll need for the unpredictable spontaneity of Tianlang-Jun's. Now, it's only early evening and he's almost to the end of his daily list, which means there's still about eight hours of time left to get work done, and nothing he planned to fill it with, which is also only contributing to the sense of panic.

Shang Qinghua has always been an anxious person. When he was living his first life, it mostly showed up in his being quiet and allowing himself to fade into the background, hiding away from the world. His family had all clearly moved on to others, and he had more than enough to keep him home, with all the writing he had to do. Better to avoid anything outside his front door. He was still anxious, but it was less of the shaking-trembling-begging for his life kind, because he never put himself in any kind of situation that would bring any of that out.

It's strange, to have lived solidly into adulthood and then have your spirit and mind transferred into that of a young child. When he first got here, his body wasn't even a year old! He hadn't ever thought about just how much babies can't do! He couldn't focus his eyes, couldn't walk, couldn't even hear a lot of the things people were saying. He just had to lay there for days on end and wait for the people in his life to look after the body he was in.

His tongue wasn't clever enough to know how to form the words to go with his thoughts. Even if it had been, Shang Qinghua knew better! As the creator of this world and an incredible purveyor of angst, he knew exactly what happened to people who stood out as strange or different. The kind of rejection they faced. It's good for building tragic backstories! Not as good when you're a baby transmigrator.

He did know for sure that he was in the world of PIDW. That he was a transmigrator. But that was only from the System in his head cheerfully telling him so. For the first decade of his life in this world, Shang Qinghua had to pretend to be just a normal child, and the only entity he could speak to regularly was his own tormentor and captor.

It would have made for a really incredible character arc. Even just thinking about it, there are so many narrative themes in there that are ripe for the picking. If it were happening to a fictional character, he could have done something amazing with the story. Since it was happening to him instead, and he actually had to live through those years and years before he could speak to anyone else with the level of cognitive functioning happening inside his head, it was the worst thing ever. He used to spend hours and hours at a time going over every single detail he could remember from his book, because it was suddenly a lot more relevant to his life and he had to hold onto it until it all actually started to happen. Which wouldn't be the case for several more decades. He had to settle into the long haul of remembering things. Also, it gave him something to do inside his mind, so that he didn't lose his mind while pretending to be a young toddler.

It lead to a different kind of panic, too. Oh, how much he missed those old days in the modern world, when he could simply lock himself inside his house and avoid any confrontations or encounters with the things that made him panic in the first place. In this world, in PIDW, he really hit his stride in the trembling, panicked babbling and shaking that he knows has become something of a signature by now. You try being in his shoes! He had to live every day of his childhood afraid that he would be kicked out onto the street for giving himself away before he was old enough to actually take care of himself!

And then! He had to go join his sect, because the System liked to pop up and hold his own death over his head like the sword of Damocles (another metaphor he can't say out loud because no one in this world knows what that is).

In the sect, he had to become head disciple and then sect leader. More pressure from the System. But don't get attached to anyone! Because he was going to have to betray the sect in just a few more years, and that was going to kill a whole hell of a lot of his sect siblings, and he couldn't let any attachments get to the point where that would be even more painful than it already was.

Work for the king of the northern desert. He's going to kill you in a few years. He can come into your room whenever he wants. Be a double-agent. Don't get caught by anyone in the human realm. Win over a bunch of demons that have a lot of very good reasons to never want to listen to a human speak. Use your knowledge of PIDW to figure out what you need to do next. Don't give away your status as a cultivator or you'll be killed right away.

Is it any wonder that he got such a terrible reputation? Anyone else in his situation would too! Is it any wonder that he started to develop a habit of running over the details of this world over and over in his head whenever he needed to calm down, since it wasn't safe to have it written down anywhere?

He didn't bother to spend much time remembering Tianlang-Jun, since he hadn't been part of the final draft. Just the outline. He didn't think it would be necessary, and he needed to leave space in his head for all the other details that were going to be important to staying alive.

Yeah, he knows it was a mistake. No one needs to tell him that now. He would really like anyone with strong opinions on this to think about what it would be like for them to be stuck as a baby again and have to remember every little detail about a story they wrote, mostly in a caffeine-fueled fugue state. And then keep all of that in mind for the next several decades.

The point is: Tianlang-Jun fell off his radar. This wasn't a problem at all until all of a sudden it very much was. He had thought he would just sleep away Shang Qinghua's lifetime under a mountain! That's what he had ended up doing in PIDW, and it only changed once Cucumber-Bro came in and fucked up all the narrative tension.

So, really, it's all Cucumber-Bro's fault, and it's important to Shang Qinghua that everyone else knows that too.

Assigning blame doesn't actually help with the problem at hand, though. The problem, which is that he still hasn't heard from Tianlang-Jun all day. That's not a good fucking sign. It's not that he left the court! Shang Qinghua saw him sitting up there right next to Mobei-Jun during dinner tonight. They were talking with their heads bent together for the whole meal. Well, okay, it was really more that Tianlang-Jun was lounging into Mobei-Jun's space and rambling on and on. But! Mobei-Jun wasn't ignoring him! Sometimes he would make vague comments or noises! That's basically him showing rapt attention! Shang Qinghua would like to be informed about shifting alliances and relationships between VIPs in this court, please and thank you! Where is the very good boy that he trained up to be a ruler and tell him these sorts of things?

A servant walks into Shang Qinghua's office and hands him some of the mail that has arrived in the evening. Usually, Shang Qinghua is not in his office when this happens, because he is off doing the many other things on his to do list for the day. This is another terrible disruption in plans! Now he has to look the demon in charge of mail for the palace in the eye, even though he's been explicitly avoiding doing that due to all the extra work he makes for her every single day!

He thanks her. She is very polite back. More than most demons in this palace are to their resident human. Shang Qinghua feels even worse than he did at the start of this.

The letters are easy to sort. There's not even that many of them today. Just a few details to shift around on his map of important people. A few colored dots to add to his color coding system. A few things to shift around on The Overarching To Do List.

He could pull a few more things off the Overarching To Do List and add them to what he needs to do today. That feels like inviting disaster. As soon as he lets himself be confident that Tianlang-Jun is not going to disrupt his day, that's when the Heavenly Demon will strike. This is the way that Shang Qinghua's luck works. He's only halfway convinced that it's due to the System trying to create moments of narrative irony.

There are a few pieces of personal correspondence, there at the bottom of the stack. One from Cucumber-Bro, mostly including a rant about the newest updates to Resentment of Chunshan, written in the Chinglish shorthand they use, as if he's ashamed to let anyone see him have strong feelings about literally anything in the world at all.

There's also, part of a new pattern, a letter that is clearly from his king. Shang Qinghua braces himself for whatever could possibly be inside. There's no way to predict, after the rollercoaster of the past few. Is it going to tell him to kick Tianlang-Jun out of the castle? Is it going to tell him that he has pretty eyes?

Qinghua, it reads, rather than allow him to continue down his newest anxiety spiral.

I want to make hand-pulled noodles for you every day that you want them. If you decide you do not want noodles, then I want to know what else you like and learn to make that too.

Your King

Huh.

It's.

Huh.

It's somewhat like the one from the night before. It's more words than his king almost ever strings together.

It's also-, huh. It's hard to explain what's so different about this one from the other ones. It feels more...believable? Like it really was his king who wrote it. The words are phrased the way that he would say them, if he were to say something so incredibly out of character.

The words are also incredibly...something. Soft? Vulnerable, maybe? He would almost describe them as romantic, if this were the sort of thing he had written in a novel for a super reserved character to say. Mobei-Jun, implying that he might want to continue cooking for Shang Qinghua. That he enjoys serving him in that way. That he wants to keep working to make him happy. That would be a romantic thing to say, if he were looking in from the outside.

And then, well, Your King. Huh. That's fucking. Huh. Shang Qinghua has been calling Mobei-Jun My King since long before he was king of anything. Part of that was just a matter of practicality. The Mobei family does not name their children. They have to fight for rankings and then they get the honor of being addressed by their title. It's just another part of what makes the competition for the throne so harsh and terrible. It's a great little character development detail for a book character. A terrible thing to do to an actual teenager who has no connections or support in the world.

When they had met, there was very little else to call Mobei-Jun. He had no name, and Shang Qinghua needed something to call him so that he could better beg for his life. My King had been what he called him, sometimes, when he was thinking about him while writing PIDW. Like, his favorite character. His king. You know. It's not weird. It's writer stuff. He did way weirder shit than that. He's a successful writer. Shut up.

When he had first actually called the teenaged Mobei-Jun that, it had clearly done wonders for his case not to kill him. Mobei-Jun was already going for the throne at that point, and no one in his family or the demon realm believed he would be successful. It had made him puff up a little, with pride, every time Shang Qinghua said it.

And then, well, then several decades passed, and they kept right on knowing each other. And, slowly, the title shifted from just a substitution for a title to something more affectionate. Something closer to a name. Maybe even a nickname. Shang Qinghua would never say that it's sometimes even like a pet name, because he doesn't want to die, but it does feel like that. He says it like that, sometimes. Just for something that he can hold in his own heart. A secret between him and himself.

All this to say: Shang Qinghua has been calling Mobei-Jun My King for as long as he's known him. In all of that time, Mobei-Jun has never referred to himself as Your King.

It's different. It's a different kind of possession. A king owns all of his subjects. Any of his subjects could call him my king. A king doesn't belong to any individual subject, though. It's a one-way possession.

Shang Qinghua can't stop staring at that signature. Your King. As if the power between them isn't the heinous level of unbalanced that it very much is. He knows that it is. It always has been.

Your King.

He's never called himself that. He would never have a reason to.

It should sound like something forced again. It should have Shang Qinghua hunting him down and accusing him of being blackmailed again. Clearly, there should be no other explanation for this.

But someone else, someone coming in and forcing him to write these words, they wouldn't know to have him say that. They wouldn't know why that would be so significant. If this were Tianlang-Jun telling him to say these things, he was stuck under the mountain the entire time My King was developing into something significant between the two of them. These days, it can fly under the radar as a perfectly normal and respectful form of address.

Someone looking in would never know all that it means to them. There would be no reason for anyone other than Mobei-Jun to even think to write something like that. Which means, impossibly, that it was Mobei-Jun who chose each of these words. Who said these things.

Shang Qinghua has to do something about this. He wants to go and confront him again, but it would probably just lead to a similar embarrassing showing as the night before. Sputtering and struggling for words while his king stares down at him with vague bemusement. It's always good and terrifying and heart-stopping to see him, but he doesn't know what he would say. Hold the letter up in his line of sight and demand that he explain himself again? There's nothing to explain. It's an incredibly straightforward letter. He wants to demand that Mobei-Jun sit down with him for several hours and unpack every single potential hidden meaning and subtext and ulterior motive with him. 

But his king is not the type of man to think like that. Mobei-Jun, impossibly, simply says the things he is thinking and feeling and puts no more thought into it than that. Even more impossibly, often he doesn't say anything at all.

Usually, it's a safer bet to just watch the things that he does rather than the words that he is saying. That's how Shang Qinghua manages to keep close enough tabs on his opinions of other members of the court to write his speeches and give him his to do lists. Mobei-Jun is a very good listener until the moment he doesn't want to do what you told him to do, and then there's no moving him.

He says what he means, when he speaks at all. He speaks with actions over words. Going to pursue a further explanation would reveal nothing, because there was likely no further thought to the letter than what is before him. Should Shang Qinghua try something like that, too? Using his actions over his words?

Shang Qinghua does not work like that.

But Mobei-Jun works like that. What could Shang Qinghua do, then, to show him that this, whatever the fuck it is, was appreciated? How can he use a kind action to also work to gain some kind of clarity about what could possibly be going on here?

He cooked for Mobei-Jun, the other night. It seems like Mobei-Jun likes that, when they cook for each other. He said in the more forced-sounding letter, the night before, that he had appreciated the meal.

Shang Qinghua knows that some people in the court might look at all of this and get the wrong idea. It's a demon tradition, you know. One of the ways someone can declare intent for someone else. Cooking a meal for them. Some people look at Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun and assume it must be like that, between them. Really, it's just something that started after Shang Qinghua almost ran away that one time, and then continued because his king seemed to gain some kind of satisfaction from it.

They've been just friends up until now. Not even really friends, actually. Shang Qinghua would never say something like that out loud. More like...partners? Partners in crime, maybe? They've known each other for so long. They've worked together for so long. They understand each other.

It hasn't been anything more than that, between them. But this letter, it's blurring the lines. A lot. Shang Qinghua is really having to work hard to think of any kind of platonic or, he doesn't know, some kind of cosmically-connected coworkers situation explanation for any of this.

He wants to make noodles for Shang Qinghua for the rest of his life. If he stops wanting noodles, he wants to learn how to make the things he does want. What is Shang Qinghua supposed to do with that? The longer he thinks about that part, the more it's sticking in his brain too. The Your King snagged in his mind first, because what the fuck, but actually, he would like to know what the fuck is happening with literally every part of this letter, because it's going to do his head in.

When was the last time someone cooked for him? Before Mobei-Jun? He'd eaten at the dining hall when he was spending more of his time on An Ding Peak, but that wasn't a personalized meal. That was just the same meal that disciples took turns making for the whole peak. There wasn't any heart behind it.

It would have been when he was a child in this world, but even that had been such a strange and distant time. Being doted upon by parents, parents he was mentally older than, parents he could never speak openly to. There was a strained distance there. He knows it confused them, the whole time they were alive. Their strange, distant child who never behaved quite the way they expected him to. Their child, who knew, the whole time he was growing up, exactly when and how his parents were going to die. He did everything he could to make their lives easier. There is nothing he could have done differently.

Before that. In his first life. Instant noodles and energy drinks and bao from the convenience store down the street, when he thought he would shrivel up and die if he didn't actually leave his studio apartment. Scrounged together meals before that, when both of his parents had already split, were off trying to build families that would work this time, leaving him alone to cook for himself before he ever learned how.

When was the last time someone made a meal for him? For Shang Qinghua, in all that he was?

Has someone ever done that?

Fuck. It's some fucking dark shit tonight. This is why he stays busy with lists. No one wants to live in thoughts like this.

But fine. Fuck. If this is what it's like between them, then does it really matter if there is or isn't some hidden meaning underneath it? Does it matter if he means it as friends or coworkers (or lovers)? The idea of something more glows within him with a brightness Shang Qinghua can't look at head-on. He has never learned how to exist around the reality of something like this.

Because, the horrible truth is, all of this with Mobei-Jun is so much more than he has ever had in either life.

And so, really, it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter what he means by the letter. They'll figure that out. Eventually. And any explanation will be more than he's ever had before.

Right now, though, he has to do something. Do something that might make Mobei-Jun feel one hundredth of the overwhelming glut of emotion that Shang Qinghua is feeling right now.

*~*~*

Mobei-Jun opens the door to his room. It's late, later than he ever even thinks to stay up. He was already awake, though, and a fire is burning huge in the fireplace. Just in case. Just in case he comes back again. Mobei-Jun wants him to be comfortable here.

Qinghua only needed to knock once. Mobei-Jun knows what it sounds like when he does. He has a frenzied, anxious, light way of rapping his knuckles against the door. Sometimes, when he spends days away at his cultivation sect, Mobei-Jun imagines it and goes to answer the door to no one.

Qinghua is here, now. It's what Mobei-Jun was expecting to see, so it takes another few moments for him to realize what else he is seeing.

Qinghua is holding a dish piled high with noodles and sauce and vegetables. Zha jiang mian. The same dish he made for Mobei-Jun just the other night, to eat in front of everyone in the court.

"Ah, My King," he stutters. There is a bright flush on his cheeks. Mobei-Jun wants to scratch them open and lick up the blood. He doesn't.

"Qinghua."

"Yes! Ha ha, it's me. Yep. I noticed earlier tonight that you didn't eat very much at dinner, and I thought that might be because you didn't really like what they were serving for dinner, since it was a lot of northern game and you tend not to eat much of that when they have it, not that you eat much of anything else anyway." He's speaking at a rapidly increasing pace, seeming to become more panicked the longer that Mobei-Jun does not speak. "And, well, I thought about the other night, and how you did end up eating all of the thing I made you, so I thought that you might still be hungry and there's nothing I have to do tonight anyway, so I thought that I could cook for you and maybe that would be better than going hungry all night but if that's not the case then I can just go and leave you to do whatever important things you need to be doing right now."

Mobei-Jun does not bother to acknowledge that last part. Ridiculous. He would be sleeping if Qinghua were not here right now. He much prefers this.

He also does not speak because his tongue is frozen to the top of his mouth.

When Qinghua cooked for him, before, it was very blatantly due to some kind of pressure or blackmail from Tianlang-Jun. Mobei-Jun was still happy to accept it, because it happened in front of the entire court, and so even if Qinghua didn't mean what he was saying, at least the rest of the court would get the message to stay away from the two of them.

This, though. Shang Qinghua generally tells Mobei-Jun the truth, especially when his mouth runs away with him like this. He will still withhold things, of course, but the words that he says are truthful.

He said that he noticed that Mobei-Jun did not eat at dinner. That Mobei-Jun prefers food when it is prepared by Qinghua. He thought Mobei-Jun might be hungry, and so he cooked for him.

Mobei-Jun is going to tear out his heart and hand it to Shang Qinghua. That feels like the only action that would appropriately convey what he's been trying to say. An appropriate reaction to something like this. Qinghua cooked for him. Because he wanted to and he thought Mobei-Jun would enjoy it.

Mobei-Jun gestures him deeper into the room. Gestures him toward the chairs near the fire, again. He's replaced the pelt that was there before with that of a Great Mountain Burrow Timber Wolf, with thicker, warmer fur that wraps around your feet when you step on it. There's a quilt as well, commissioned to be made of the heaviest, finest fabrics. It's draped over the chair that Shang Qinghua sat in last time and has spent the last few hours warming before the fire.

When Shang Qinghua sits down, he does this little shiver, nestles down into the warmth of the fire and blanket and rug. Something possessive and satisfied floods Mobei-Jun. Good. Qinghua is comfortable in his space. It's worth the slightly-dizzying heat that makes a blue flush come to his own cheeks.

Mobei-Jun is holding the food now. He's not quite sure when that happened. He must have taken it when Qinghua came through the doorway. Now, he goes to sit in the chair across from Qinghua. They are tilted toward each other, just like he imagined they might be when he rearranged the room. He starts taking small bites, savoring the rudimentary texture and flavor of the dish.

He does not eat human cuisine often. When he does, it is prepared by the finest chefs in the land. This food is not nearly of the same quality, and that makes it taste all the better. Qinghua is not an experienced chef. He does not know how to cook many things. And yet, this is the second meal that he has prepared for Mobei-Jun to eat. It shows a significant departure from his usual patterns and habits. This was something intentional. Something purposeful.

It should feel uncomfortable to sit and eat while the other person has nothing to consume. If Mobei-Jun were willing to share a single bite of the treasured thing that Qinghua made for him, he might. For them, though, this is not much of a departure from the norm. Mobei-Jun rarely speaks while Qinghua rambles on and on, and so having a mouth full of food will not make much of a difference at all.

He's not speaking right now, instead sitting pressed back into the quilt on his chair and staring nervously at Mobei-Jun while he takes his first bites. Mobei-Jun tries to look pleased, so that Qinghua will know that his gift is appreciated. It's unclear how well that does or does not work.

Sometimes Qinghua gets like this. All tensed up and shaky while they are in the same space. Silent, but as if all the words are building up inside of him because he is not saying them out loud. It makes Mobei-Jun want to bend him over a surface and fuck him until all the panic is gone from his body. Until his words can flow freely and easily again.

He does not do this. Instead, he merely waits. Soon enough, the words will build up too much, and Qinghua will choose to fill the silence, and they will continue in their old patterns.

"Right, ah, My King is probably wondering what I am doing here." Mobei-Jun cannot help the somewhat smug smile that comes to his face at that. Just as he knew would happen. Because he does know this man, better even than Tianlang-Jun, who likes to come in and claim to be such an expert in humankind.

"I know I said earlier that there's nothing to do. But, you know, obviously, there's always something to do, so if My King wants me to leave him alone or let him sleep, just say the word and I can shut up and go away." Mobei-Jun does not say the word. "I've been going through the Overarching To Do List, but I already got through my list for the day, because I keep waiting for Tianlang-Jun to show up and make everything difficult, and I accounted for that in my schedule, but then he didn't even have the decency to show up. It's guys like that who get off on being strange and unpredictable that I can't stand. He doesn't even have a goal or anything, I don't think! He just wants to make people's lives harder and, as soon as he feels like people are starting to catch onto his patterns, he goes and changes them."

"I want him to leave," Mobei-Jun contributes, in between bites of his meal, because it is the truth and it seems like it will make Qinghua happy to hear it.

"Yes!" Qinghua sits upright in his seat, pointing in enthusiasm, happy to have someone agreeing with him. It makes Mobei-Jun want to agree with anything else that Qinghua has to say. He has felt like this many times before. "But, My King, we have to let him stay as long as he wants. A Heavenly Demon like that, we can't afford to make him angry." Mobei-Jun knows this. He also knows that he is regularly tempted to try and kill Tianlang-Jun. He makes a note of the determination in Qinghua's face right now, as something to recall when he is about to lunge at the interloper in his court. "Plus, someone like that thrives on going against the norms and expectations! If you make it obvious just how badly you want him to leave, he'll only stick around longer. It's like a younger sibling who is bothering you."

Mobei-Jun's half-siblings were never so kind as to merely "bother" him, and if he had ignored them, he would be dead. Qinghua, as far as he has been made aware, does not have siblings. They both nod along to this metaphor anyway. Mobei-Jun does not care about what the motivation or reasoning is. He will do this because Qinghua asked him to and because he trusts Qinghua to always know what the best move is for him to make.

They sit like that for several more minutes. Qinghua is talking, mostly about his frustrations with the members of the court, or his intentions for upcoming diplomatic interactions. Mobei-Jun interjects now and then with his vague agreement, as that is all that is required of him to keep his kingdom thriving.

Instead of listening properly, he finds himself distracted. It is rare, that he sees Qinghua in firelight. This is a grave oversight that he will need to correct as soon as possible. There should be lit fireplaces and lanterns throughout this entire castle, so that Qinghua always looks like this.

He is so small, Qinghua is. Mobei-Jun can lift him with one hand. He's done it before, back when he thought that sparring would win him over. Back when they were in danger and he did not trust Qinghua to move himself fast enough. He's squashed himself down into the chair, and the more he speaks and the longer he sits before the fire, the more comfortable he looks. The jittery panic is soothed into calm confidence, the way he only looks when he's so wrapped up in what he's saying that he forgets to be nervous.

Many of the demons in this realm, and almost all of the humans that Mobei-Jun has met, have deep black hair. He understands that many see this as a mark of beauty. And yet, that hair would not glow the way that Qinghua's does in the firelight. Brown now shot through with strands of red and ocher and yellow. His hair is always a little bit unruly and difficult to contain in his bun and now, at the end of the day, there are pieces hanging loose around his face. The firelight is in his eyes too, bringing out notes of gold and honey, pooling deep in the dark brown and settling there like stars in the sky.

He looks happy. He looks comfortable. He looks like the most beautiful thing Mobei-Jun has ever seen.

Mobei-Jun is helpless to do anything but listen as Qinghua talks. As the night grows later, his conversation wanders. Qinghua speaks not just of the tasks he must do and the kingdom they run together, but of his most recent conversations with his human friend, Shen Qingqiu. He speaks of his dreams for the future of their kingdom, and not just politically, but aesthetically, culturally. He paints pictures with his words in the air between them.

It grows later, and when Qinghua starts to become self-conscious about how much he has spoken, Mobei-Jun fetches him tea to soothe his throat.

It grows later, and the fire has crackled its way down to embers between them, and Mobei-Jun is discovering even more ways that shadows can catch and cling to the angles of Qinghua's face.

It grows later, and Mobei-Jun is awake so far past when he normally is, and the night is sparking through him like magic, and he can't believe he gets to have this. He never thought he would have something like this. A place to be calm. A place to be safe. A person who would never run out of new things to tell him.

"Tell me a story," Mobei-Jun murmurs. It is so late in the night that it is now well into morning. The words should come out as a command, but instead they are soft and warm. Qinghua should be panicked and confused and embarrassed at such a request, but instead he smiles like a candle held between two cupped palms.

"Once upon a time." He says the words like he's casting a spell. Like he's telling a joke. "There was an ice prince and his servant."

He speaks for hours. They have never done this. Mobei-Jun does not know how he knew that Qinghua would have a story to tell, but it flows out of him like he does not even need to think to find the next word. He spins a story of an ice prince and his human servant and the brilliant adventures they go on together. He tells how, again and again, they save each other from danger, the ice prince with his fighting prowess and the human with his quick words and unwavering loyalty.

When it's all put together like that, Mobei-Jun can't help but notice the ways that they really are something like a story. From the outside. A cultivator that found a demon and saved his life, even though there was no reason he should have done that. A demon that found safety and comfort and warmth for the first time ever. A human who learned how to live in a realm so far from the one he was born into. A king that learned to trust his advisor with every part of the kingdom and every word from his mouth.

They should be enemies. Or, if not enemies, then certainly not this. They should never have a reason to speak like this. There should be some terrible distance between them that Shang Qinghua would never dare to cross and Mobei-Jun would never even think to challenge.

They shouldn't have this. They do, and it is the warmest thing that Mobei-Jun has ever known.

He brews more tea, brings a steaming cup to Qinghua when his throat goes scratchy and hoarse from all the speaking. Qinghua tries to wrap up the story a few different times, but Mobei-Jun can see the way that he's still bursting with more to add, more words to say, and all it takes is a single follow-up question or inquiring hum and he'll continue on with another chapter of this fantastical story.

It's a silly thing. A child's pastime. There is something warm and intimate in doing it anyway, in allowing himself to truly enjoy it.

They sit before the fire and Mobei-Jun is being cooked from the inside out, with how warm his room is. There is a deep flush to his cheeks and the frost that always lines the edges of his hair has melted, leaving something like sweat clinging to his temples.

It goes on and on, stories spinning out into the darkness, and Mobei-Jun will always listen to every word that Qinghua has to say, even the ridiculous ones, especially the ridiculous ones, because he wants to understand him better than anyone in the world has ever understood another person before. Is that too much to ask?

The moon makes its way across the sky and Qinghua never stops talking but his sentences start to trail off into fuzzy, half-finished thoughts. He keeps being interrupted by his own yawns.

Qinghua is a cozy, sleepy-eyed thing, his eyes heavy and liquid where they blink out at Mobei-Jun from across the fire. When he yawns, his entire face scrunches up like a small animal's might, and sometimes a small noise, like a squeak, will come out too. It makes Mobei-Jun want to build a terrible tower and lock him up on the highest floor, so that no one in the world would ever be able to see or touch him again. Only Mobei-Jun.

This plan would not work, because Mobei-Jun wouldn't know how to go about commissioning a high tower like that without the help of his closest advisor, and Qinghua is not the type to build something like that without asking endless questions about its purpose, and Mobei-Jun is not a good liar. Particularly not when the person he is lying to has known him for more of his life than not.

When he falls asleep, it is a soft, mumbling thing. Qinghua's sentences trail off into quiet, shapeless syllables and then into snuffling snores. He had curled up into a small ball in the chair an hour ago, and now his head rests against the back of the chair while his arms wrap around his legs.

He is so small.

Mobei-Jun is tired too. It's a miracle that Shang Qinghua fell asleep before him, considering the fact that he is almost universally awake long past the time that his king goes to sleep. It is a unique and treasured opportunity. Mobei-Jun goes to gather another quilt from his own bed, because the fire is burning down and it will likely get cold as the night goes on.

When he wraps it around the balled-up form of Shang Qinghua, he makes a small huffing noise and nestles into it further. There is something cracking at the center of Mobei-Jun's chest. He didn't know it was possible to feel this way toward another person. He doesn't know what to do with this new knowledge of himself.

And so he does what he always does, when feeling too many things. Mobei-Jun goes to sleep.

Read Part 3 here (x)

[sg-the-mag-by]

Yes! This is good to see another side of fairy World and how maybe it's failing more kids than helping them especially in the modern age with so many young fairies now becoming Godparents like Peri.

Or it's always failed Godkids but Cosmo and Wanda were the outliers because 1. They wanted a family of their own so badly but the fairy baby ban prevented that so instead they "adopted" all their godkids as their own, and 2. They have caused a lot of havoc for Jorgen(Cosmo being the main reason he and Wanda lost Crocker, then years later becoming so attached to Timmy he was basically their son more than any Godkid they'd ever had so pulling the family away was both a headache and heartache for Jorgen) by not always following Da Rules so when they retired we actually see how bad Da Rules are.

Also can I just say, for all the love and care Juandissimo spouted having for Remy, you gotta admit he failed Remy by not being a father figure to him, instead just making all of Remy's wishes come true that in turn almost lead to the death of not only two fairies but could have also accounted for the death of three children(which again feeds into this fairy mindset of "make as many wishes as possible and not really question them unless they are fully against Da Rules). Maybe Remy finally realized this by the time we see him for the last time with his parents in Country Clubbed, he realized that he'd never get parental love even from his godfather so he resigned himself to this life, Juandissimo was permanently taken away, and we can only hope Remy turned out a better adult than his parents and only because he realized it on his own and just found a better outlet for his anger, sadness, and lack of familial connection. I know people see Juandissimo and Remy as a good match, but never once did these two give me "they are father and son" vibes like Cosmo and Timmy did, and isn't that what Remy needed over being bent on revenge to a kid who didn't even care about Remy's life style and would have actually been the perfect friend to him?

Now yes Timmy finding so many loopholes did cater to many of the news ways certain wishes have to be granted(time based wishes going through Father Time, nature based through Mother Nature, and of course love ones through Cupid) BUT I will stand my ground that Timmy was kinda the final nail in the coffin for Fairies to actually make these rules(you cannot tell me that a little girl causing WW1 did NOT have the fairies reconsidering plenty of wishes if she was able to take out a human-probably the reason you can't wish physical harm on anyone like how Timmy was trying to do to Chip Skylark before he really got to know his big brother figure(yes I will die on the hill that over the years they saw each other as brothers and Chip even helped Timmy get his ear pierced).

So, having Peri get personal lessons on how being a fairy works from Jorgen, plus with all the changes to Da Rules(which in Battle of the Dimmasonian we even see Peri question Da Rules when it came to Viozalea) not to mention he was a really young kid when he left Timmy and his parents handled Timmy's emotional side while Peri just helped grant Timmy's wishes or just was being his baby brother.

Peri also fearing he'd make his Uncle Jorgen sad by failing him(over making his parents sad since to him they never saw any flaw, which if we get a Season 2 I REALLY want to know what happened between Cosmo, Wanda, and Peri leaving Timmy to Cosmo and Wanda going on their time traveling 10,000 year vacation, to Peri getting his Godparenting license up to where A New Wish starts. Like Peri decided instead of becoming a Fairy Dentist to follow in his parents "footsteps" and become a Godparent but not seek them out for any help in his studies or ask them questions about how they dealt with different kids.) is very viable for him since Jorgen and Tooth probably helped with Peri's schooling while Cosmo and Wanda were on their vacation.

Also with Cookie's ideal ways of wishing, I wonder how many of her previous Godkids went back to being miserable once she left because she just grants what SHE thinks they want over what they need and she'd only be with kids for barely a year because she gives them all this stuff, but what if she was assigned to a kid who was similar to Timmy or Dev, neglectful parents(or worse actually abusive) and would not take any of her "precious time" to sit and talk to her godkid and comfort them like how a real parent would(probably not realizing how bad the parents were unless she would see actual bruises on them but just magic them away). Even if these kids were able to wish themselves out of those homes(which could the modern day Rules even do that?) they would still be heavily effected by whatever happened only now that they were deemed "safe" by Cookie's and Da Rules' standards she'd leave them and just go on to the next kid.

You think Peri met her and even once questioned her methods and how different they were to his parents? Then again he'd probably just think this was how things were done today for Godkids and not even question it, until-you know, he finally saw his parents again and slowly started realizing what Dev needed, but it was too little too late.

Okay sorry I rambled here but I LOVE now picking out how Peri, and Jorgen, were setting Dev up to keep being miserable and if we get a season 2, even if Dev kept his memories but doesn't keep Peri, will he resign himself to knowing he'll never get his dad's love and affection or will he get an actual competent Godparent. I've seen people suggest Juandissimo buuut unless he did a LOT of soul searching I'm not thrilled if they go that route. But, I would think the writers could revisit the concept of two different kids sharing the same Godparent, ie Hazel and Dev share Cosmo and Wanda. With actual care put into the writing this could work, especially since while both need the emotional support Cosmo and Wanda give, Hazel needs it more to calm herself and have cool adventures while Dev needs it to find out who he is when not living in his dad's shadow and generational trauma(looking at YOU Doug Dimmadome owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome!).

And done. Thank you.

It’s so weird to me that some people put at least part of the blame for Peri’s behavior and mistakes on Jorgen. Yes, he may be responsible for his attitude towards work and rules, but certainly not for his attitude towards Dev himself.

Some compare Dev to Timmy and wonder why Peri didn't cheer him up then on his birthday(after all, he could have seen his brother Timmy in him). And they forget that 13-14 WHOLE years have passed (and 20 years in total). His personality could have changed beyond recognition since he was a child. Yes, yes, children tend to grow up and change depending on their upbringing and environment (and sometimes not always for the better). That's why I'm so interested to know what kind of childhood Irep and Peri had.

Peri was raised by loving and caring parents who often see only the good in him. And Irep was also raised by parents who love and care but are more distant, giving him more personal space. And if Cosmo and Wanda mostly see only the good in Peri, A.Wanda and A.Cosmo mostly see only the bad in Irep. But not in the way that many might think. After all, they are anti-fairies. So.. of course they saw him as their distributor of chaos (lovingly). While at school and everyone else saw only the bad in Irep, but already in a negative way for him. Irep always lived with the thought deep in his head that he was only the worst half of his fairy counterpart and all the time tried to prove the opposite. Therefore, he constantly tried to present himself in the best light in his typical manner…

[sennik]

whoever's still hanging here, what's up?

[myriadxofxmuses]

"I feel the same way about touring. I love to fly," Gage only half joked.

While it was his preferred method of travel, being on tour made him feel free. Even on their strict schedule. It was the one time Gage didn't have to worry about being followed by cameramen. Or that his newest relationship was going up in flames because he couldn't commit - ironic considering the amount of commitment it took to be a musician. He didn't have to think about much while he was on the road, everything except his down time taken care of and when he wasn't working he was allowed to do anything he wanted. What could be better than that?

Liam couldn't help but notice the way he spoke of dancing was like he'd lost a loved one and the tinge of sadness to his smile all but confirmed the suspicion that his career was somehow tainted. He didn't pry however, the setting far too impersonal to dig. The quietest member of the group continued to observe as he started eating his dish.

"I'm a bottomless pit man," Silas proudly admitted as he ate, tapping his stomach in added confirmation. "Been that way since I was a kid. It doesn't matter what I eat, I rarely gain weight. Trust me. I've tried," he continued through another bite.

When he was a young child, it hadn't really mattered, but once his family broke away from the commune and filtered back into society, Silas had was in his teens, jumping straight in to public school after being homeschooled his entire life. Not an easy leap. Especially being a new kid with lots of rumors about your family and their previous lifestyle. Add in scrawniness and a propensity for less conventional interests - namely rock music and the color black - and you can understand why his Midwesterner counterparts were exactly accepting. He'd tried his damnedest to beef up so he stood a chance when they fought him, but he burned off whatever he ate almost as he swallowed it. He was just thankful there was at least one other soul there like him and they could both spit in the face of their bullies where they both sat now. Metaphorically of course - although Silas wouldn't hesitate to make it a reality if they ran into each other now.

"S'there food at every bar in Korea?" Gage asked with genuine wonder as he took a bite.

"I never would have pegged you as a dance teacher," Liam said as he took one of the anchovies and ate it without issue - he in fact didn't mind the saltiness of the fish. "Especially after hearing your demo," he added in compliment.

Silas' eyes widened with the arrival of the rest of their food. "This is more like it," he said softly as he began to dig in. "What made you decide to get into that?" he asked Jiwon through his first bite. "Ballet stuff," he added for clarity with a small flourish of his hand.

Gage and Adam started in on their own dishes, the lead singer pleasantly surprised with his meal. Adam was just happy to have food other than fish. And it was all delicious. "You really know how to pick," Adam said with a raise of his fork - never able to quite get chopsticks down. "This shit is good as fuck," he added complimentary as he took another bite.

[immamapletreekid]

instead of grinding for finals i lost hours to a one piece wiki spiral

[britneyshakespeare]

well i didn’t get my paycheck in the mail but i did get a referral notice from my doctor saying that i can expect to see an endocrinologist... in SIX. FUCKING. MONTHS.

[ms-demeanor]

Sometimes college professors like to hop on my posts lamenting the sorry state of syllabi these days and joke about how they haven't thought that far ahead in the course themselves, or talk about how they struggle to complete a schedule for their students.

With all due respect, that's your job. If you can't do your job, you should have a different job. If you need help, ask your colleagues or your department chair or *someone* because I know that professors aren't given a hell of a lot of education on how to educate, so you probably *need* help.

But every single time I make one of those posts I get anywhere from ten to thirty messages, replies, reblogs, and asks say "oh man, that's exactly why I had to drop out of school; I couldn't keep up with the assignments because I didn't know when they were due until the week they were due."

I have been a college student in three separate decades, and "not having a schedule of assignments in the syllabus" is new to my experience. That shit didn't fly in the 2000s or 2010s and I think it likely has to do with professors being overly reliant on apps.

AT A MINIMUM your syllabus should have:

Contact information (including preferred method of contact) for the professor

Office Hours

Grading Policy

Assignment schedule.

Your assignment schedule doesn't necessarily need to have the exact page numbers of every reading or a full assignment sheet for each project, but it should have things like:

December 1st - Major Project 3 second draft due December 9th - Quiz 10 December 12th - Major Project 3 final draft due December 15th - Final Exam

If you end up presenting a more thorough schedule with readings and homework later, that is acceptable to present a week or two into the semester but it is absolutely insane to me that students these days don't know what homework they're going to have to get done over Thanksgiving break during the first couple weeks of class.

If I had three professors at once who didn't give me a schedule, how on earth would I know if I was going to have to read three chapters of a novel, take a midterm and turn in two stats homework assignments, and complete a history research paper the same week that I'm planning to travel to see family? If I'm aware of this from the beginning of the semester I can make sure not to pick up extra shifts, or I can plan to leave a day later to accommodate the midterm, or I can start working on the paper early to complete it before the due date but if I don't know what's going to be due when, I'm going to have a big problem.

If you don't give your students a schedule you are communicating that you don't care about their schedule, and that you think it's their responsibility to contort their life (and their job, and their other classes) around your class, and honestly my advice to students in that situation is "drop in the first week and pick up another class". That's actually part of why I recommend signing up for one more class than you can really manage - if you get a professor whose class looks like it's going to be a disaster because they don't have a schedule, you can bail before the withdrawal period and get a refund for the class.

I'm only in one class this semester but the professor's response has fully dropped me into "Fuck it, I guess I'll fail" mode and I don't even know if I can pull myself out of my current D grade because I don't know how many assignments we have left in the semester.

This is a shitty way to run a class. If you can't do better than this, you shouldn't be running a class.

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz���s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[peachigummi]

is that right? ☏ mattheo riddle.

summary: both your parents had set up an arranged marriage. you both simply tolerated it for the most part, as it really was in the best interest for your respective families. over the year, you started to really develop feelings for each other - especially in wanting to expand the family name.

pairing: mattheo x fem! reader

warnings: jealousy, smut like literal major baby making so there is unprotected p in v and creampie, so breeding!kink, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, choking, gagging, slight bondage, almost public but not really?, cock warming... maybe slight daddy/mommy stuff naturally?. i think that's pretty much it fluff at the end. he is rough but talks you through it, praise!kink.

note: this is my first time ever writing smut...omg i almost didnt finish writing this LOL i had to stop midway then I had the post clarity and that shameful feeling HAHAHAH

word count: 7.5k

(slightly not really proofread...again)

reblogs & comments are appreciated! i hope you have fun!! tell me what you think!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Both your parents had set up an arranged marriage for after you and Mattheo graduated from Hogwarts. You've been married for over a year now, living in a manor that housed both families. There was definitely some tension occurring, recently you’ve both started to further develop feelings. At first you tolerated your union as his family wanted to continue with a strong and pure bloodline, and your family simply wanted protection. 

You were sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair when Mattheo walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and a towel around his waist. He gave you a smug look, heading to the walk-in closet, dropping the towel and slipping on his underwear, his back turned to you. You wouldn’t help but press your thighs together at the sight of him, you quickly return to brush the knots from your hair. 

From the vanity mirror you look at his chiseled back muscles. He still looks as good as the first day you met him. You had the luck on your side for that, at least the partner in your arranged marriage was good looking…yet you craved having a chance to fall in love organically. You could count on a single hand how many times you and Mattheo had been physically intimate. 

Mattheo put on a shirt and grey sweats, shit, before walking out of the closet to approach you. “I’ve heard from your parents that you’ve been talking to another guy at work?” he says calmly but firmly.

You thought about it for a second, “Charlie? Yeah, he’s in training.” After graduating Hogwarts you were able to quickly land a job with the M.O.M. while mattheo stuck with DAD…aka the family…business. I moved on to rub body oil on my legs and arms, not looking at him.

He tried to not pay any attention to you as you moved your hands in tight little circles. Mattheo would love a good massage right about now too, he took a step back and sat on his side of the massive bed, “and what do you talk to him about?”

“I mean,” you scoff at him, “Mattheo, it’s just training protocols. Showing him around the work area, how to do things, where things are at. Not much else to it than that.”

He clenched his jaw, he couldn’t deny that he had an attraction to you, but he always told himself to ignore it, “that’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it.” You stood up from the vanity, clicking closed the boy oil. Setting it down where it belonged, you enjoyed having a tidy space. You sat on your side of the bed.

He looked at the way your hips swayed in your night dress as you walked to your side. You turned your head to look back at him. He looked so tense, “I hope you’re not lying.”

You stayed quiet, of course he wouldn’t trust me. You had never given him a reason not to even before the start of this arrangement, so it annoyed you when he doubted you. That might just be his nature though. You slid into the satin bed sheets, they were nice and cool to the touch, much needed after a long day at work. You turned your bedside lamp off, encasing your both in darkness. Mattheo laid beside you, he usually took to his side, but tonight he was feeling a bit off so he wanted to be close to you. Not making physical contact but enough to where you notice his warm body. 

You kept your eyes open, your back turned away from him, what was he doing? He never slept so close to you. After a long period of silence you spoke up, feeling brave because it was dark. You wouldn’t see his expression and he wouldn’t see yours, “are you jealous, Mattheo?”

He sneered at the question, as if the idea of him being jealous was a crime, “of course not. I’m just concerned that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be.” There was a small hint of jealousy in his voice, he hated to admit it but he didn’t like the idea of you with another man.

“I might have not had a choice, but I don’t plan to step out of this marriage. You have nothing to worry about.” You tried to scoot closer to the edge of the bed, trying to build distance from him, “I wish I could say the same with you…and your assistant.”

His face looked offended, but you couldn't see it, you could hear it in his voice, trying to keep it cool. “My assistant? You’re the only one that is allowed in my office.”

“That’s not what Draco told me.” Mattheo was able to recruit Draco back into the business. Draco was nice to you, he was like a brother figure. Your families were close. They would have arranged a marriage with him instead, but his mother decided against it. She believed in falling in love, and making the choice Draco’s. “He warned me to never let you go on any work trips or work late over time. He doesn’t trust your assistant. Draco told me she wants to take any opportunity to have you alone, where no one can see you two.”

Mattheo gritted his teeth as he listened to you. He didn’t appreciate that Draco was telling you things about him, in fact was pissed. He sat up in bed, turning on his bedside lamp. He looked at you with furious eyes, “Draco has no idea what he’s talking about. My work assistant wouldn’t do such things!” That was a lie and he knew it.

“I trust Draco. Don’t you speak ill of him. Why are you defending her?! YOU’RE the one who should be telling me that you wouldn’t do such things with her!” You couldn’t help your own jealousy come forth, you nearly fell off the bed.

He grabbed your arm to pull you back on the bed. Mattheo spoke with a calm and firm voice, “you have my word that I have never, nor will i ever, do such things with my assistant. No other woman can have me the way you do.” He admitted with a smirk, grabbing your chin and lifting it up so your gaze would be on him only.

You didn’t thank him for catching you, but you were glad he did. You lost your concentration for a split second at his admission. You regained yourself, “fire her then.”

He laughed at your demand, “fire my assistant?” A wicked thought passed through it. He could use this to his advantage to make you feel jealous, test the water on how you felt about him, “Why would I do that? She helps me.”

You crossed your arms, “you have three choices.” You count up with your fingers, “You either fire her. Let me choose an assistant for yourself. Or you hire me to be your new assistant.”

He raised his eyebrow at your offers, but still kept his cool, He didn’t want to show how turned on he was by how demanding you were being at the moment, “you’re giving me an ultimatum…” he smirked slightly, “and you think I’ll just do as you demand?”

“You better mattheo. If you don’t want to take it for purely my sake, do it for your bloodline.” I rolled my eyes. Fighting back the blush, thinking one day I will carry his child. 

He groaned at the mention of the family purity, “is that right?” he said in a frustrated tone, “you know as well as I do that this marriage is a duty to our families.” He sighed. “Very well, i’ll take you up on your offer, be my new assistant.”

Your eyes grew wide. You didn’t actually expect him to take that choice, far as you could tell he enjoyed being away from you even if it was at work. “I’ll call my work in the morning. See? Not so bad that I was training Charlie, he can take my place.” You tried to read his face before laying back down, this time closer to the center of the bed.

He turned off his lamp again, “let it be done. But remember, as my new assistant, I won't go easy on you.” He teased, there was a small smile on his face he couldn’t straighten out.

You reached out to pinch his ear, “don’t let it get to your head. I’m still your equal as your wife. Don’t forget about that.” You turned your back to him once again, closing your eyes.

His smile only got bigger at how fierce you were being, he must have struck a chord. He has never seen you so jealous. “Yes, yes… of course my love.” he mocked in a quiet voice as he inched closer to you, laying by your side. Not making much contact, but enough to tease you. You rolled your eyes, he only ever used pet names to tease you. You wanted them to mean something. You remembered the way he came out of the shower, you thought about his wide shoulders, his collar bones.. You scoot your ass closer to his hips. Two can play at that game.

Mattheo’s breath hitched, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m trying to sleep. Goodnight.”

He was so close to snapping at you, but he didn’t want to take the bait, “night.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next morning you woke up early to call and explain why you were leaving the ministry. You had to come up with a solid unsuspecting excuse. Mattheo’s family would not be too happy with it, being their spy and all, but if it meant my marriage could be successful, so be it. 

You were at the dining room table, it was empty. Everyone in the manor wouldn’t wake up for another half hour or so. Yet there was Mattheo in his black suit, “morning.” He found it amusing you were already ready for the day. He looked you up and down, a wave of lust surged through him. He thought you looked quite lovely, he almost said it outloud but resisted the urge.

“Good morning Mr. Riddle, sir.” You stood up, pulling his seat out. You rolled my eyes, but smiled sweetly at him, “I’m ready for my first day.”

He chuckled softly at how polite you were being, “are you now? And what are you looking forward to most today?”

One of the maids came by to set mattheo’s breakfast down. I smiled at her and waited until she left before continuing, “Sir, I'm looking forward to you firing your current assistant… in front of me.” You batted your lashes at him. Knowing you were going to meet her for the first and last time, you took extra care in how you looked.

“You really want to witness her losing her job, don't you?” He bit the corner of his mouth. 

“She should have watched the way she was acting with you, if she really cared about her job security.” Our blended family began to slowly trickle into the dining room, you laid a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder. you kissed his head. We made the appearance of a blissful marriage around them, not wanting a rift to occur between the families, “I'll meet you at the car in 15, darling.”

He tried his hardest to maintain his facade as you kissed him and left. He again watched you walk away, your perfect figure made his body tingle with desire once more. He excused himself from the table.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mattheo turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt first to get out so he could open your door, “are you ready, my dear?” he questioned though he knew the answer. He didn’t think there would be any hesitation from you in regards to what was about to happen.

You nodded, straightening out your skirt. You followed him into the building. You felt uneasy to be around so many people who have caused harm and were plotting to do more. At least your family was safe, as long as you were with the Riddles.

Mattheo noticed and held your hand as he led you to his office, “Nothing is going to happen to you.” He offered you a chair in front of his desk before going around to sit at the main chair.

You couldn’t help but smile, you let it drop just as quick too. It’s all just part of the agreement. If something were to happen to you, poof~ there goes the bloodline. 

“Good morning, Mattheo.” A woman with a sickly sweet, sickly high pitched voice said with the entry.

He gave her a brief glimpse, he could already tell he would get a headache. His assistant was wearing a tight fitting top with a ridiculously short skirt, she was pouring him a cup of coffee.

You watched as his eyes followed her, gripping tightly at the chair’s arm. Draco was right, no one in their right mind would think of dressing that skimpy for work, if they were truly just there to get shit done. “It’s Mr. Riddle to you.” You said taking your left hand to your chin, making sure your wedding ring was up and front ready to gawk at.

Mattheo looked at you, he loved the way your demeanor was changing. He could see the jealous and possessive energy oozing off of you. He found it quite intriguing, a part of him wanted to test your limits. He reached out to accept the cup of coffee from his assistant, “is it just like how I like it?” “Yes Mr. Riddle. Just how you like it” she said, leaning over to him, finishing the stir. This made her skirt even tighter and her breasts were there to peep into.

You stared at Mattheo hard, expecting him to say something to the woman. He felt you, he had to admit he also was quite displeased at how his assistant behaved around him, but it was all fun and game.

“Now, what do I have scheduled for today?”

Before the woman could answer you interrupted. “I know one thing you have scheduled, Mattheo.” You tapped your foot. You needed her gone. Now. Draco - you’ll have to thank him at the next dinner party. You should have done something sooner. You can’t believe your husband was letting this slut work around him, dictating what he did by the hour.

Mattheo’s eyebrows slightly rose in surprise, he was a bit caught off guard at your interruption. He was so amused by how impatient you had become.

“Well we do have a meeting to go with the Boyles in an hour, can this wait?” His assistant said puffing her chest out to make it appear larger. You hated that she said we instead of you. That bitch. You got up from your seat, going around the desk to stand behind Mattheo. You snaked both arms over his shoulders and down his chest.

He held back a groan as your soft touch distracted his thoughts for a moment. He loved that you were making it clear he was yours. He snapped out of it when he remembered he was still in the presence of his assistant so he looked back at her, all the mock gone from his voice, “i’ll be quick… You’re fired. You're no longer needed here.”

The blood drained out of the woman’s face, her shoulder’s immediately fell. You gave her a fake condolences look.

“W-wuh why? What did I do? Is this because of the office party last week? It won’t happen again, it was wildly inappropriate.” She composed herself, taking a stab at you with the last portion. You brought your hands to Mattheo’s shoulders and squeezed hard slowly, as to not bring attention to the action.

His eyes darkened, “You knew the rules. My father specifically told you when you started not to try anything with me. But even after making it clear, you still chose to try and make a move on me at my own party.” His voice was deep, hiding the amusement that lay underneath.

Even though you hated the confession, you couldn't help but appreciate Mattheo’s honesty. You lessened the grip on his shoulders, rubbing out the part you dug in your nails as a way of saying thank you.

“I was so drunk Mr. Riddle. I’m terribly sorry. I really need this job. I thought you were needing something else…I thought you weren’t getting pleased right. Mattheo, I'm sorry don’t fire me.” You wanted to scream as she pleaded. You can hear the poison off the back of her tongue. Seriously, that Bitch! With that comment you returned to dig your nails into Mattheo.

“My needs are none of your concern.” Mattheo spat at her, but she was right. He has been craving a certain kind of touch for far too long now. He did enjoy a good begging, no matter who it came from, but he wasn’t going to go against his marriage. 

You felt him hold your left hand, flipping it so that both the back of your hands were facing the woman, he was showing your matching rings, “I am perfectly happy in my marriage.” You couldn’t help but wonder if he meant that, or if it was just for show. I was happy too wasn’t I?

The woman looked at your hands that were pressed together, despite her disappointment, she knew there was nothing she could do so she bit her tongue and nodded in response. You watched her every movement, as she collected herself. She still didn’t bother pulling down her skirt or buttoning up her shirt, it was as if she still wanted Mattheo to see what he would have missed out on. To leave this image with him as a parting gift.

He simply stared at the clock, “you have three minutes to collect your things before security arrives to escort you out of the building. Do not leave anything behind because it will be incinerated. My father will deal with your severance…if he gives you anything. Especially after I tell him why I had to fire you.”

She turned to the door, stole a glance back at Mattheo, and left the room. You stayed put behind Mattheo. You didn’t want him to see your face just yet. You needed to cool down. 

He groaned loudly and leaned back into your touch, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don’t even know why I kept her for so long. She wasn’t even that good at her job” he smirked, still wanting to test you.

“Don’t play stupid, I know I won't. Clearly there was something going on!” You scoffed, “to think you were getting so mad at Draco for warning me!”

He took your hand pulling you over to sit on his lap, “there was absolutely nothing going on. I didn’t ask her for anything outside of work related things. I would have never let her touch me, she thought I was unhappy in our marriage.”

“Why would she think you were unhappy hmm? Why was she assuming, let’s be honest, she assumed correctly that you weren’t getting needs met. How were you acting with her, tell me now.” You couldn’t help but feel like a little girl on his lap, a little girl who was throwing a tantrum for not wanting to share a beloved stuffed animal.

He rested his chin on your shoulder as he spoke into your ear, “it was probably because I was often short tempered with her, but I promise it was mostly due to her not doing her job correctly.” His lips brushed against your neck.

Yeah that kind of sounds like Mattheo, he liked things done a certain way, and he didn’t like when it veered off the track. But then again, even in school he was a massive flirt. So how much was the tension between the two due to his short temper and how much was his charm? 

“She’s not worth even a moment of your thought.” He mumbled against your ear, sending a shiver down to your core. He placed a gentle kiss right under your jaw. His hands ran down your thighs, squeezing ever so lightly.

You let out a faint moan, “Mattheo…” You couldn’t remember exactly the last time you were like this, it was very rare. While in school, you remembered how everyone wanted him. He allowed them to play games with him, he loved to toy with them too. But the girls knew, they ultimately knew they had no chance ending up with him. Our arranged marriage wasn’t a secret. 

He continued to press kisses over your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking gently on your skin, enjoying the way your body responded to his touch. He grabbed one leg and forced you to face him, your knees now on either side of his thighs, straddling him. He then wordlessly cast a spell on the door with his wand, so it wouldn’t be opened. He didn’t even look at the door, he didn’t need to carefully aim. You could feel your core getting embarrassingly wet at the simple gesture. “Mattheo, we shouldn’t..” you panted. 

“Maybe you’re right…” He responded, though he didn’t stop his ministrations. He captured your lips with his, kissing you hungrily as he pressed his body against yours. His hands exploring over your body. 

You let your hands go up the back of his neck, tugging at his dark curls. They were so soft and velvety. Fuck. He felt so good, you could feel him press against yourself. You forgot how big he was, you wanted to just dry hump him to feel satisfied with yourself right now. You couldn’t bring yourself to it, you tried to speak between his hasty sloppy kisses, “Matty…you do have a meeting soon.”

He loosened his grip ever so slightly, “then do your job. and cancel. it.” He said through gritted teeth, planting kisses on your collarbone. Without looking he pulled his phone closer to you. He hoped you would make the right choice.

You nodded shifting in his lap, earning a groan. What a start to my new job. “What’s the extension to Boyle’s assistant?” You grabbed the receiver trying to hold it and keep your breath steady. Mattheo whispered it against your ear lobe. You grew impatient once more as you continued to hear it ring on the other end. C’mon answer.

“Hello, how may I direct your call?”

“Hi um” you looked down at Mattheo’s sweet brown eyes that were following you, pleading with yours, you tried to get him to pause with his lip exploration for a second, “I’m Mr. Riddles’ new assistant - we..I..we..sorry he needs to” damn ..girl I NEED TO! Mattheo muffled his own giggle with his hand. Enjoying how you kept messing up, obviously your mind has started to get clouded.

“Y/N/N?” The woman on the other receiver said, your old nickname from school.

“Oh my god, Daphne? Hey! I didn’t recognize your voice…!”

He watched you with slight amusement.

Daphne started to ramble on about how she started at this job, on any other day you would have totally loved to entertain her and catch up. You got along very well, but you cut her off as she explained, “um Daphne, we should go out for some coffee soon, we can talk then. It’s just that Mattheo needs the meeting with the Boyles rescheduled.”

“Oh..okay..is everything alright? It was an important meeting…”

Not as important as this.

“Everything is fine, is there a different time we can meet? Push it back a couple more hours?” You looked over at his schedule that his previous slut of an assistant left. You both ended up agreeing on a later time, you quickly thanked her and said goodbye. You clicked the receiver down, putting the do not disturb on for good measure too. 

“Where were we?” you shyly said, looking at his eyes that were gleaming with desire and excitement.

“I was thinking we could restart from here..” He readjusted you back on his lap, slipping a hand under your skirt skimming along the line of your panty. 

You missed his touch, his hands could sometimes be so cold to the touch that they felt like they left a burning trail. He pulled back slightly, picking you up by your ass to set you down on the edge of his desk. He used his hands to open your legs wider, ever so gently “Is it okay if I touch you right here?” you were already nodding before he finished, “Use your words with me. Do you want me to touch you here?” He padded his thumb against your core, still over your panties. “Yes Mattheo, please please touch me.” 

“That’s my girl.” He smiled proudly, he could already feel the want and need pouring off of you, and it was driving him equally if not more insane. He pushed your skirt up higher, revealing yourself to him. Ran his hands over your hips massaging them as you had done the night before. They felt so soft and squishy. 

You couldn’t help but throw your head back, leaning on your forearms. You moved your head forward to look at him when he retracted his hands. He had sat back down in his chair, admiring how he had you. You felt like you were under a microscope, to be so exposed. You tried pressing your legs back together.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, “don’t hide. Let me see you.” he pushed your knees back apart to regain his view. He pulled your dominant hand forward, he also leaned forward so you could touch the side of his face, “show me how you please yourself.” He watched with a hungry expression, clearly enjoying how you blushed and got flustered. Mattheo gently rubbed his thumb along your burning cheek softly, then traced it against your bottom lip asking for entry, “there’s no need to be shy with me, my love.” His voice was sweet and soft, “I promise I wont judge you, you are my wife after all.”

You let his thumb go into your mouth. You sucked on it, not once breaking eye contact, “shit y/n, that’s my pretty princess.” with his free hand he slid underneath his own pants and readjusted himself into a comfortable position. He took your dominant hand once more, putting it over your core. “Show me.”

You hesitated again to make a move on yourself, Mattheo pulled his thumb out of your mouth so he could wrap his hand around your neck, “don’t make me say it again.”

Oh my shit. “Sorry” you managed to choke out through his alternating grip intensity. You went over your panties to play yourself. You were so wet. Your hand was shaking with nerves as you rubbed over your entrance, letting your slick arousal coat them before moving them between your folds and finally at your clit. Mattheo was looking down at your movements. The hand that wasn’t around your neck, he helped by holding your panties out of the way, “so pretty, you’re glistening.”

“You..you have this effect on me Matty. This is all for you.”

“Good, you’re mine.” He choked you hard then lessened it once more, “and i'm yours.” He kissed you again before watching you play with yourself. You kept rubbing your clit for him. He let go of your neck, you felt your blood rush back to your brain. Mattheo unbuttoned your top, unclasped your bra and started to play with your breasts. Alternating and teasing each nipple. “So perfect.” He grinned against your nipples, biting it and blowing cool air on it. You yelped and he covered your mouth, “shhh.” He unlatched himself from you and sat down. He rubbed himself through his pants before undoing his belt. His eyes never left your wet core, it was purring for him.

He let out a small sign, laughing. You felt insecure for a split second, “what?”

“Nothing..you’re just doing..it wrong”

“Huh?”

“Here let me help you, princess. I’ll show you how I'd do it.” he moved his chair closer, moving your hand away. He just rubbed the middle and ring finger along your heat, it grant him a moan, “y/n, as much as I love hearing you like this. You’ve gotta stay quiet.”

You bit your lip hard, “I’ll try Mattheo but..”

“None of that, you must do as I say.” he gently inserted one finger inside you, curling it up against your wall. You moaned louder. He whipped his single digit out, “you’re so needy, even with a single finger? Sweet Salazar, what am I going to do with you? You’re hopeless.” He let out a haughty laugh.

“Baby..please.” You watched him stand up, taking his belt off the loops of his pants. You thought he was finally doing to give you what you wanted most, but instead he just wrapped it around your head, tightening it around your mouth, closing it.

“I’m really sorry I have to do this baby girl, but you just wont keep your mouth shut.” He wasn’t a bit sorry, you can tell by how he looked down at the sight of you. He was actually quite pleased. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, it was a sharp contrast to the leather belt wrapped around your mouth. Seeing you like this was beyond his wildest dreams, gagged before him. Mattheo sat back down continuing where he left off, but this time he inserted two of his fingers. He didn’t allow you to adjust to them. The belt indeed muted your cry. It hurt, you didn’t dare use two of your own fingers on yourself, and here he was with hands that were twice the size of yours.

“You’re doing so well for me, princess.” He whispered, inserting his fingers all the way and pulling them out the same. You felt a tear running down your cheek. He began to rhythmically curve them when they were inside you. The pain was quickly subdued with pleasure. You laid back on the desk arching yourself so he could go in deeper, “so now you want more huh?”

Still fingering you, he went back to suck on your nipples. He towered over you, you shook your head, “what is it?” He looked at your concern. You looked at his fully clothed body, wrapping your hand around his tie. You were naked, apart from your skirt, but it was so bunched up at your hips it didn’t matter. You couldn’t  be the only one bare right now, you want to see his body, “how are you still bossy with your mouth shut?” He laughed, pushing your hand away, “news flash, I’m your boss now. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Despite his words, he did take off his tie first, wrapping it around your wrists, goddammit, before taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt only half way. You could look at his chest that was peaking. You felt yourself drool against the belt.

He sat back down and continued to finger you relentlessly. He pulled out and tasted his fingers, “too bad you’re gagged. I would have liked you to taste yourself. At least I have your cunt to myself.” he welcomed himself into you again. He slowly ran his warm tongue up your slit, stopping at your clit. He did this a couple of times. It was so agonizing. Your eyes were bobbing around unable to stay open. With your hands tied you were still able to hold his head down to stop and focus on your clit.

Mattheo would have swatted your hands away, but he needed your touch as well. He wanted to make you feel amazing, he wanted you to forget your name and only respond to “wife”. But god did he also just want to already bury his cock deep inside you to feel some relief. He needed to be patient.

Your breath began to get shallow and unsteady. He groaned against your clit, your pussy was repeatedly clenching around his fingers, indicating you were close. 

His lips curled devilishly, he was thinking about denying your orgasm. He only wanted you to cum on his cock and nothing else. The only reason why he didn’t is because he loved the taste of you too much to stop, “you can do it, doll. Come for me let me taste it.”

You began to shake and grab a fist full of curls as you came. He gradually slowed down, helping you ride out your orgasm. You felt so relaxed.

He looked so full of himself. He pulled his face away from you, his lips were red and swollen from his own work. Mattheo held up his right hand, the one that was fingering you, you could see the wetness on it. 

With his clean hand he pulled down his pants and underwear in one quick motion. Rubbing his cock with his right hand, letting your cum wet it. He used two fingers to beacon you over, before he realized you couldn’t move.  He left your wrists still tied, and pulled you forward onto your feet. “Look me in the eye, princess. Do you promise to be quiet now?” 

You could only nod. That was enough for him, because he had other plans to occupy your mouth. He removed the belt around your mouth. With your still bonded hands you wiped the spit around your mouth, “God, damn.”

He laughed, “I don't remember being called God before, but you can't continue with its use.” 

Before you could reply with something snarky, he pushed you down onto your knees and had the tip of his cock at your lips, “Sorry, I can’t actually trust you to be quiet, so open wide and take it.”

You obeyed. Though you could only take nearly half of it before it started your gag reflex, “i love that sound baby,” he signed, “is it too big for you?” He didn’t really care for an answer, of course it was. It would have just inflated his ego more. 

“C’mon and let me in more.” slobber just kept going down your chin and onto your breasts. He bucked his hips at the sight, “you’re so fucking pretty.” Mattheo gathered your hair into two bunches, using them as handlebars. He was straight throat fucking you at this point. You began to feel faint, and he saw it too, so he pulled his cock all the way out allowing you to breathe. “You’re doing so good.” He kissed you on the lips, using his shirt to help clean your chin.

You were just about to say thank you when he reinserted his cock into your mouth. You pull your head back and he actually allows you. With your bound hands you stroke the portion of his cock that you couldn’t take in, pumping it. Admiring the veins running down it . You wrap your lips around his lip, swirling your tongue around. His precum was like a classified drug to you, it was so delicious. You kept at your pace wanting more to come out, “you’re obsessed” Mattheo pointed out thrilled.

“Talk to me, love” He touched your ear lobe. 

You spoke to him with his cock still in your mouth, so it slurred your speech, “yob ase s’ gob.” 

He chuckled but groaned with the vibrations your voice made, “what was that?”

You stopped sucking, “you taste so good!” you smile at him. This brought him to his knees, literally he kneeled beside you, he removed the tie around your wrists rubbing them for you. Both your eyes are on the same level now.

“You really are beautiful.” He said causing you to blush. “Don’t turn all shy on me now, princess.” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear in a soft gesture. “We’re far from being shy with each other right now.” Mattheo kissed you.

“I just like hearing you say that, my king.”

With a voice filled with affectionate warmth, “when you call me that it makes me want to keep you by my side forever, my precious princess.” He began to kiss you harder, “I want to keep you forever.” He pushed his soft side out of the way and pushed you onto your knees in front of him You arched your back so your ass was in the air, “this is what you fucking teased me with last night.”

You laughed, “yeah I know.”

“So you wanted this bad huh?”

“Yess Matty I want you.” 

He admired the scene in front of him. He kneaded your ass, biting it and making your cry again. “Don’t make me use the belt again.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet now.” You cupped your own mouth. You saw his jacket on the floor and took it under your head.

“You’re so obedient, it's very good. How haven’t I bred you sooner? I want you pregnant with the next Riddle heir.” He ran a hand slowly over your back, gently but possessively.

“I have actually been thinking the same thing. My body is ready for your seed, im..im ready for it.”

When you agreed with his wish it only made something in him pop, something shifted in Mattheo’s eyes. The hunger and desire growing. 

He spat out at your spread exposed pussy, as if it wasn’t already sopping wet. He just liked the idea of having his bodily fluids in you. He rubbed his full length on the outside of your slit, teasing you, “you think your tiny pussy can take my cock better than your mouth?”

Shit…actually that was an honest question. The few times you tried already, you were only able to take in 3/4th of his length before tearing and asking him to stop. Plus you both haven’t fucked in a long while, “Matty, I’ll try by best…” you sounded a little uneased. 

He pulls on your arm turning you to look behind at him, “We don't have to rush this. But I promise i’ll make it good for you if you let me. You’re my wife and you will be the mother of my children soon enough.” He let go of you, bending over to kiss your shoulder blades, biting them roughly before going to your ear, “I’ll try to take it slow, but I really need you to take all of me in, darling. I need my seed to make it directly into your womb. I don’t want it to possibly drip out. You can do it.”

You moaned at his words of encouragement, you will try your best. He continued to stroke your hair, “listen to me: you’re my everything. And I won't let you get hurt, okay?” He kissed your temple, “if it is too unbearable, just tell me and I'll stop. Nothing is more important to me than your comfort and trust…but I do want you to give me a baby. A couple of them.” He laughed like his usual self, “so please try hard to take me like a good girl.” 

You pulled at his hair harshly, “just fuck me Riddle.” with that he slapped your ass leaving a red welt in the shape of his hand and squeezing it to lengthen the pain, “atta girl”. He finger fucked you a little bit more before realigning the tip of his dick to your hole. 

You closed your eyes, and he began to press into you. It wasn't so bad, actually it already felt amaz - -- okay nevermind. He felt you squeeze around him, and he stopped to reassess the situation, “please princess, let me in.”

“Matty I don’t…I dont think I can” you gripped onto his jacket for dear life.

“You can and you will.” He reached over to rub your clit, it helped relax you and he kept sinking deeper and deeper in you. You bit the jacket. It was a crazy mix of pain and pleasure.

“There we go.” he was satisfied, he was finally balls deep inside you, “see I knew you could do it.” He stayed still trying to let your pussy try to adjust around him, “you’re so fucking tight. Actually, I was having second thoughts, but here we are.” He said proudly kissing your neck from behind.

“You’re so fucking huge Mattheo, you’re too good to me.” 

“I adore you” he whispered, “there’s no one else like you. You’re…you’re the love of my life. Both our parents saw that before we did. They knew we were meant for each other when they arranged our marriage.” He groaned as you squeezed him purposefully this time.

“I love you Mattheo. I do.” You manage, your words felt true to each other. With a tender grip he starts  to move his hips slowly away from you only to slam back in. Watching your face for any sign you wanted him to stop but all he got was a smile and, “I’ll give you as many children as you want.”

Without proper warning he quickened his pace holding you face down to the floor. You closed your eyes tightly, locking your jaw. You inhaled his smell through his jacket. Pain was being replaced with a pleasurable numbness. Your brain was going utterly stupid, “make me pregnant Mattheo. Let me make you into a proper daddy.” 

He chuckled at that, “fucking take my dick then. I’ll make you the most beautiful mommy there is. You're such a good wife and I know you’ll be the best mother to my children.”

Mattheo pressed his hand just under your belly button, he took one of your hands and pressed it there with you, “can you feel my cock, darling? You can feel it through your tummy.”

“Yes I can. I feel so full.” You moan.

His grunt and thrusts began to get sloppy, his balls slapping against your clit. It made you roll your eyes behind your head, “princess, I think…” 

“Me too, let's cum together. Let's mix ourselves more.” You raised your ass higher, tilting it ignoring the back pain you were getting.

“I’m going to fill you up even more,” he whimpered, his voice faltering as if he was about to cry, “don't let anything drip out. Take it all in okay?” You nodded, holding your head up and twisting it so uncomfortably around to the side so you can watch him release himself into you. What a sight for sore eyes. 

His curls were plastered onto his forehead with sweat, his cheeks were flushed. Mattheo’s eyes looked back at your eyes with a longing you haven't seen before, “I love you Y/N. thank you thank you thank you.” He began to repeat, as he shot a large load into you. He was right, you could feel your tummy grow already. You followed shortly after, squeezing and milking his cock out more.

His breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he came down from his climax. His body was trembling, but he held you tightly. His face buried in the crook of your neck, “that was incredible.” He looked at you with adoration and contentment, “you’ve given me everything i’ve ever wanted. Thank you.”

“Thank you for choosing me after all.”

Mattheo was about to pull out, but you didn’t allow him. You pulled at his shirt, making him spoon you on the floor. You wanted to warm his cock, but also use it to continue plugging in his cum inside of you, to be marinated. You told him this too, and he flushed, “hey you said we wouldn’t be getting shy with each other, it’s too late for that.” He laughed making his dick still twitch inside you, you let out a moan. He grinned mischievously. You gave him an uncertain look.

Mattheo looked at the clock “yeah we should probably just move the meeting to a different day.”

“Do I really have to call it in again?”

“Yes yes you do, you’re my new assistant remember?” 

“Yeah and soon to be the mother of your children too.”

He wrapped his arms around you in a loving embrace. “I promise to take care of you and our little ones,” he said with sincerity, “You’ll be the most beautiful, loving mother, and I'll support you every step of the way.”

He tugged on the phone’s cord, pulling it so that it drops on the floor beside the two of you, “go on call again. Move it for next week.” He starts kissing your jaw again, moving his hips and slithering his hand back to your clit, “I hope you didn’t think we were finished, I think I can give you more of my cum to hold.”

“Mattheo…” 

[sunderwight]

Modern AU where Shen Yuan accidentally sugar-daddies everyone.

So for the purposes of this, Shen Yuan's family is basically $10 Bananas levels of cluelessly rich. Shen Yuan has almost never had to look at the prices of anything he wants. He and his siblings all get an allowance from the family's main account, which increases when they reach adulthood, and in the interest of fairness his parents made it all the same size. So Shen Yuan gets the same amount of money for his daily living expenses as his older brothers with their penthouse apartments and vacation homes and private jets, at least from the family account (since he doesn't work, he doesn't actually make as much as them in total because they earn more on top of their allowances).

And the thing is, Shen Yuan genuinely just lives a lot more humbly. He likes people but what would he do with a vacation house? Anything really nice would probably require him to fly to get out there, and he gets sick as hell on planes. Living in the central city is also not great for him, because the air pollution is so bad. Having a whole house to himself would also be ridiculous. So he has a reasonable apartment, in a reasonable area, and he splurges every so often on purchases that make him happy and take-out food that he likes, and of course he pays a cleaning service to come in twice a week. Most people assume he's comfortably middle class and has some tech job he does from home, but he's been getting a lot more than he's been spending in his monthly allowances for years now, and the figures are big.

Enter into this environment author Airplane and his trash novels. Novels, multiple, because in this AU there's no PIDW, and instead after some alternate PIDW prototype got popular in the harem genre, Airplane decided to churn out a series of copy-paste shorter stories rather than recycling the same subplots in one massively long epic.

Shen Yuan of course discovers Airplane's writing and becomes as obsessed with it as ever, except this time he notices that if there are delays between new stories, they seem to clear up faster whenever he throws some cash at the problem. And also that the drops in Airplane's writing quality coincide with times when Shen Yuan was having health issues and not keeping up with his VIP purchases. So, he works out that Airplane's probably doing the writing for the money, and that when Peerless Cucumber isn't paying the most for it, Airplane starts listening to the other buffoons in the comment section more to try and entice them to pay his bills instead.

Peerless Cucumber leaves a comment on one of Airplane's latest stories that kicks off the two of them actually chatting, and Shen Yuan eventually gets to the point of offering to fund all Airplane's writing, in exchange for Airplane not doing his crap sellout stuff to appeal to other readers anymore. Airplane thinks he's joking or maybe mocking him. Shen Yuan asks how much it would cost. Airplane fires off a ridiculous number. Shen Yuan doesn't even blink and wires him the first payment. Then he gets annoyed because Airplane leaves him on read for a while, but that's because Airplane is staring at his account balance in shock.

Of course, it's Airplane who starts referring to Peerless Cucumber as his sugar daddy. Shen Yuan is just like "based on your sex scenes I don't think anyone would pay you for that" and Airplane's all "but you WOULD pay for my sex scenes ^_~" and Shen Yuan's like "technically I am actually paying you not to write that shit" and so on. Usual banter. The quality of Airplane's writing improves dramatically, a lot of his readership drops off but he does get new readers and gradually builds up an even bigger fanbase than before, and so on, it all goes pretty well. He eventually writes a few things that take off to the point of getting physical publications and international translations. Technically Airplane no longer needs Shen Yuan to pay all of his bills by that point but he's not going to tell Shen Yuan that! The contract's still good as long as he keeps writing!

Then one of Airplane's online acquaintances runs into some financial trouble and asks for help.

Liu Mingyan used to beta read for Airplane back when he wrote fanfiction (she was like thirteen, Airplane was unaware because internet and hey free beta), and it seems her family has hit a rough patch. She wants tips on how to go pro, but Airplane explains that it was extremely difficult and he mostly lucked out by finding a single wealthy backer. Mingyan wonders if the same guy would be interested in her writing, Airplane sadly thinks not because Mingyan exclusively writes kinky danmei erotica and Peerless Cucumber seems pretty firmly in the closet still and also generally prefers plotty and world-building heavy stuff.

But like, Airplane has definitely gotten a vibe off of Cucumber-bro, and Mingyan's gorgeous older brother does video streams of himself doing cool martial arts and swordsmanship stuff. So he asks her permission and when she gives it, he recommends Liu Qingge's videos to Shen Yuan, being sure to mention that the guy in question can't really afford to keep up with his hobbies and oh what a shame it would be if he had to stop making art like that.

Haha, Airplane, you're not subtle.

Even so, Shen Yuan watches the videos and immediately agrees that Liu Qingge is beauty in motion, and that it would be criminal to deprive the world of more videos of his sword. Swordsmanship! That is the, the art of, martial arts! Definitely. He clicks the donate button, reasoning out that he'll just send a donation about the size of his usual monthly payments to Airplane and call it his good deed for the day.

Liu Qingge is very confused by this new follower from nowhere who suddenly dumped a little over a month's rent into his account. One thing leads to another, with Mingyan and Airplane conspiring to try and get Shen Yuan as a permanent patron, and then Liu Qingge being let in on it. Except that Airplane keeps referring to Shen Yuan as his sugar daddy, and well... it's not like Liu Qingge doesn't ever get 'those' kinds of comments on his videos. At first he's embarrassed, then offended, then mortified that his own younger sister is apparently setting him up to make premium private videos for what he assumes is some old pervert who is going to want him to do untoward things.

However, their options are pretty bleak at the moment, and Liu Qingge worries that if he doesn't do this then Mingyan might. She even mentions something to the effect of having planned to offer herself, and only didn't because she wasn't this "sugar daddy" guy's type!

Teeth clenched, Liu Qingge asks Airplane stiltedly for advice on how to... appeal, to this wealthy benefactor.

In the end though it's not nearly as bad as Liu Qingge feared. He winds up doing more videos in costumes and cosplay, which ought to have been an untenable expense, but Peerless Cucumber always ends up covering the cost of whatever he invests in plus extra. Sometimes he sends Liu Qingge stuff with a request to wear it, but so far it's just been like, badass warrior-themed or historical costumes. Nothing overtly pervy. He does some LARPing, he makes enough to start doing horseback archery again, convinces some of his good-looking peers from various clubs to spar with him, and ultimately the most risque videos he ends up doing are the ones where he demonstrates how to put on certain kinds of gear. He still locks those ones behind paid subscribers only, mostly because he feels like he's doing something illicit now, even if he used to show more skin on his older videos any time he took his shirt off.

Peerless Cucumber doesn't leave creepy comments, either. In fact he seems genuinely nice and supportive, it's hard not to like him, and so even once his situation levels out Liu Qingge decides there's not really much need to stop making videos for him. (He maybe even gets a little giddy thrill over... well, sometimes he finds it all a bit... just when he thinks about Peerless Cucumber watching him demonstrate his physical prowess and finding that alone worth... ANYWAY--)

So that goes on for a while, before Yue Qi enters the scene.

Yue Qi is the childhood friend of one of Shen Yuan's older brothers (Shen bros!) and Shen Jiu owes him a big favor for something that he won't talk about. At least he won't talk to Shen Yuan about it. But Yue Qi is also not the type to ask for help, and Shen Jiu is very bad at offering it, so when Shen Jiu gets word that Yue Qi is having some difficulties making ends meet, he tells Shen Yuan to act as the middle man. Go offer Qi-ge money, he knows you're nice he'll just accept it, and then Shen Jiu will pay the actual bill.

Well it turns out that Yue Qi doesn't just accept it, of course he sees right through it, and gently but firmly tells Shen Yuan that he's not interested in burdening Shen Jiu further than he already has. Etc, etc, stoic stiff upper lips and no proper communication all around. Shen Yuan panics because it's not working and he's also genuinely worried about Yue Qi by now, so he tries to figure out how to make it compelling and basically blurts that, well, see, the thing is that sometimes he pays men to entertain him. You know. To like. Do things, for him. So. He could also pay Yue Qi? To do something for him?

Yue Qi gets the wrong idea entirely, and at first is like, oh, no, A'Yuan, you shouldn't be paying people for that! These things should just happen organically! But Shen Yuan is very adamant that he believes in compensating people for what they do for him, it's not like he can't afford to, and it gets awkward but Yue Qi is like well he does have health problems. It's perhaps difficult for him to meet people. So then he starts worrying about Shen Yuan and all these strange men he's apparently paying for "entertainment". Does his brother know about this?

No of course Shen Jiu doesn't know! He'd hate it, and Shen Yuan doesn't want to hear about how he's doing everything wrong with his life again!

Then Shen Yuan mentions that his prior house cleaning service up and quit on him (they didn't), and if Yue Qi would like to earn fair compensation he could just come over sometimes to help instead, and Shen Yuan would pay him just to tidy up and hang out for a few hours! Which Yue Qi thinks is a fantastic idea, actually, even if Shen Yuan is only doing this because of his brother, this will give Yue Qi a chance to keep an eye on him and his so-called entertainers. Even if he sort of... ends up also being one?

Shen Yuan keeps everything above board, though his apartment always seems perfectly clean and he overpays way too much (Shen Jiu is still footing this bill after all), and Yue Qi starts to think maybe he actually is being paid for intimacy. Of a sort that they're maybe still working up to? Shen Yuan usually has a very thin face after all. He's kind of got two minds about this prospect. On the one hand, he's got his situationship with Shen Jiu, so dating his brother would be absurd. But on the other hand, it's not actually dating, and he does like Shen Yuan, and maybe if they can be good company for each other then Yue Qi won't feel so depressed and Shen Yuan won't need to hire strange men so often.

Meanwhile it's come to Shen Yuan's attention, perhaps through an offhand comment he read online somewhere, that people who are struggling financially often also struggle to "treat themselves". Because even when they have enough money to be comfortable there's often the looming specter of deprivation, and etc, so he figures he should start buying some of his dependents more treats and things. Since they might not buy them for themselves? And also he's enjoying doing this but shhh no he isn't, it's a huge hassle, he's only doing it out of basic moral decency, etc.

So like, Airplane starts getting little things that he'd put on some public wish lists, clearly sent by Peerless Cucumber. And he tells Mingyan to make a list for Liu Qingge too, and sure enough, Liu Qingge (bewildered, slightly flustered) tries to figure out what he's supposed to do with an album from a band he likes and some high-end leather polish. Ultimately settles on playing the music and wearing his nicest leather in his next video. Yue Qi starts arriving at Shen Yuan's place to be plied with his favorite coffees and to have scented candles awkwardly foisted onto him (Shen Yuan does not know what Yue Qi likes in gifts) (he buys these presents himself they're not out of Shen Jiu's pocket).

So finally Shen Yuan's parents start to notice that he's been spending a lot more than usual, and start to worry that he's either been taken in by a scam artist or is secretly dating a gold digger or has developed a drug addiction or something. But asking things directly like normal people is basically illegal in the Shen family, so they decide to hire a private investigator.

Enter Luo Binghe, a young man of humble background who is struggling to make ends meet after the untimely death of his adoptive mother, and is using his P.I. job and his online cooking videos to help pay his way through school (scholarship student). Usually his cases are more like, cyberstalking someone to find out if they're cheating on their spouse, or helping someone planning a lawsuit accumulate evidence on their corrupt employer, or other things like that. When he gets the Shen Yuan case, the idea that the Shen family's son is paying for "company" is well within his list of probable answers.

Though this one is a little... peculiar?

Mostly because Binghe can't find evidence of Shen Yuan actually getting what he would, presumably, be paying for. At first Luo Binghe just goes through the online paper trails, using the info that the Shen parents give him to figure out that Shen Yuan is paying Airplane and Swordmaster Liu (*cough*) what seem to be exorbitant prices just for trashy fiction and cosplay videos. He assumes this is a cover, that someone's actually delivering drugs or going over for "private meetings" or at least actually sending dirty videos as well, but even when he pays for Liu Qingge's VIP access it's just tutorials and such. Neither of these guys are even on any of the sites that are more lenient towards hosting explicit content. Luo Binghe's aware that kinks aren't always obviously sexual, but people don't usually pay through the nose for the kind of content they can easily find for free all over the place, either.

He digs a little more but keeps coming up empty on evidence to clarify which of the many vices the Shen family's son is actually indulging in. Which is a problem because that's the information they're paying him to find out. Plus his curiosity kind of piques as he reads Shen Yuan's seemingly quite invested comments on Airplane's writing and Liu Qingge's videos, looking to see if there's any kind of clandestine code or pattern. But near as he can tell, whatever else Shen Yuan might be getting out of these arrangements, he does genuinely like the stories and videos too? Well. Sometimes. Sometimes he's actually scathingly vitriolic towards Airplane's writing.

Luo Binghe decides that surveilling Shen Yuan himself is probably the way to go. That gets more complicated in court cases, but since the Shen parents just wants to know what's going on and aren't planning on prosecuting their son for anything, it doesn't matter as much if Luo Binghe gets information in sneaky or underhanded ways.

So, Binghe uses the account he created to access Liu Qingge's videos to chat with Shen Yuan a few times, and then recommends his own cooking channel. Shen Yuan doesn't seem too interested in cooking, so Luo Binghe makes sure to include a video that has an image of himself in his recommendation, and then films a few new videos of himself cooking with his shirtsleeves rolled up to three quarters and a few more buttons than usual unbuttoned, adopting a more flirty persona than he typically does for his shows. He takes his cues from some of Liu Qingge's more popular videos for how to be enticing bait.

It takes a few videos, but eventually Shen Yuan comments. Luo Binghe latches onto the chance to start talking to him, playing up a persona of a vulnerable young man with little means who is trying hard to make it through school, etc, and sure enough Shen Yuan seems interested. Well, most predatory people like vulnerable targets, don't they?

However... Shen Yuan just sends him a chunk of money.

Luo Binghe is confused.

Isn't he supposed to ask for something or create some kind of expectation of repayment first? But, maybe this is his approach to handling new targets. Maybe he's just trying to lull Binghe into a false sense of complacency, before he starts indicating what he wants from all of this. Luo Binghe makes sure to move the money Shen Yuan sends him into a separate account, so that if the Shen parents get angry about it then he can return it as a gesture of good faith.

But Shen Yuan just keeps sending supportive comments and donations. Eventually he leaves a comment that alludes to how badly he'd like to taste Binghe's cooking, and Binghe is like finally, but when he implies that they could perhaps meet in person and Luo Binghe could thank him for his support by making him something, Shen Yuan backs off.

Things eventually progress to the point where Luo Binghe, who is a totally normal person treating this like a totally normal job still thank you very much, is basically camping out in the bushes in front of Shen Yuan's apartment building. At some point he conscripts the aid of his weird cousin (finding his birth family was how he got into this business initially), and then almost immediately regrets it because Shen Yuan helps get Zhuzhi Lang a job doing landscaping for his building.

Why would he want Zhuzhi Lang close but not Binghe? Binghe is much handsomer! He'd make an excellent target for seduction! >:(

Anyway eventually Yue Qi catches Luo Binghe lurking around like a creeper and is like, finally, I have caught one of these suspicious men, whilst Binghe is like oh so he does have a lover, well this guy sucks and is clearly not good enough for him, and they both try and chase one another off and Shen Yuan comes home to a heated passive-aggressive-politeness war being waged in front of his apartment. Eventually he realizes the misunderstanding and calls everyone together (zoom conference? in-person meet-up?) to clarify that he is not paying any of them for "special favors", that was just Airplane being deranged about his sense of humor, and then he has no idea what to do when the prevailing response seems to be disappointment.

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.