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marshymeds · 8 months

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Intentionally Pathetic?

Description: Shang Qinghua falls asleep at his desk and Mobei Jun carries him to his room. Eepy fluff; (also posted on ao3 @marshymeds)

Nothing could have prepared Shang Qinghua for the workload that awaited him after being reinstated as An Ding Peak Lord. He had never considered himself particularly gifted in logistics or civil affairs, but he could write well enough and he had played the role to the satisfaction of the System. How could he have guessed that everyone else that would fill his place during his tenure as a fugitive was worse at finances and organization than a three year old child?

And what was worse; Mobei Jun had been particularly rude to him after the whole ‘saving him from falling to his death’ thing. Each day had borne an entirely new cadre of tortures. Shang Qinghua wasn’t sure he could take much more. He certainly wouldn’t be saving anyone out of the goodness of his own heart again anytime soon—was this the thanks he got? Complete disrespect even from his favorite OCs.

He sighed deeply and thumped his forehead down onto his arm, exasperated. Nomatter how long he wrote, the stacks of paperwork on the desk never seemed to get shorter. He envied whatever Cucumber-bro was doing at the moment. Probably off fishing with Bing-ge, living the highlife in a quaint lakeside cottage, eating a nice meal with no worries in sight…

Shang Qinghua’s eyes felt heavy as he pulled his head up once more, staring down at the blurry calligraphy on the page before him. He could really go for a warm bowl of ramen about now.

Mobei Jun used no courtesies when entering the room. He simply opened the door abruptly, stepping inside without regard for the inhabitant as he had always done. “I require your assistance.”

Silence.

When the usual startled exclamation didn’t come, Mobei Jun cocked an eyebrow at the figure hunched over the desk on the opposite end of the room. Maybe he’d been too quiet.

“I require your assistance,” he repeated. “Come.”

Still more silence.

He stepped over, annoyance flickering across his face. Was he ignoring him? The man had been incensed that morning, going on about how “no one respects their elders anymore” and “is there no one on An Ding Peak that knows how to properly file taxes??”, only bolstered by the usual round of beatings throughout their daily interactions, but Mobei Jun hadn’t expected the mood to carry over. It never had. He had certainly never willfully ignored him before.

“Qinghua,” he said flatly as he stood next to him now, his tone betraying a cold indifference as well as annoyance. It was entirely intentional.

But he paused as he stared down at him.

Shang Qinghua’s eyes were tightly closed, his cheek pressed firmly against the sheet of paper on which he had been writing. His hand still loosely gripped a brush. The writing was sloppy and trailed off towards the end, resulting in several blotchy stains of ink across the bottom half of the page.

Over the past several years, Mobei Jun had long since learned that Shang Qinghua slept like the dead. There was no use in shaking his shoulder—nothing short of whacking him upside the head would rouse him if he were truly asleep. Thus, there was no harm in leaning closer to look at him.

The peak lord’s mouth was parted slightly, a smudge of ink on his cheek from where he had apparently rested his face down onto fresh calligraphy. His breaths were slow and quiet. Peaceful. Definitely asleep.

Mobei Jun had to wonder if this was intentional. He couldn’t help but think back to that conversation several years ago, as he often did, and consider that Shang Qinghua was putting himself in a position on purpose. To appear vulnerable and weak. To be pathetic.

As Mobei Jun stared down at Shang Qinghua his fingers curled and his chest felt tight. He had to admit it worked.

He pulled his eyes away and stood up again, glancing back at the door. The matter wasn’t important enough to wake him. He would just come back in the morning.

He began to step away and quickly wavered. When had he ever cared whether something was important enough to warrant dragging Qinghua from his sleep?

With that startling thought in mind, Mobei Jun could no longer step out of the room. He quickly turned back to the man at the desk, chest still tight, and weighed the frustration over in his mind. This wasn’t worth it.

Mobei Jun reached down to him, but instead of smacking him, shouting or otherwise violently rousing him from his sleep, he found himself carefully lifting Shang Qinghua from his seat at the desk and into his arms. As he lifted his face a much larger smear of ink was revealed across his left cheek.

The tightness spread from Mobei Jun’s chest and up into his throat. He didn’t understand what sort of illness had managed to overtake him, but it was uncomfortable and he didn’t want any part of it. He didn’t understand how Luo Binghe dealt with this. His half-mortal side must have given him some sort of immunity. In any case, asking him about this was a nonstarter.

Mobei Jun still found himself reaching a hand down to brush at the ink with his thumb. Shang Qinghua’s skin was warm, and under the young demon lord’s icy fingers he flinched away, his face scrunching up slightly in his sleep. The warmth from his face made his fingers tingle and burn slightly, urging his chest to tighten further.

For a brief moment Mobei Jun considered dropping Shang Qinghua to the floor, but he gritted his teeth and shook his dark sleeve over his hand, using the cuff of his robe to gently rub at the mark on his cheek. The ink smudged around but ultimately didn’t budge.

Shang Qinghua really was warm. Mobei Jun could feel the heat through his sleeves as he stood next to the desk, still holding him in his arms. His heart beat faster.

Bed. Right, a bed. Forget the ink. What was he, a maid? He was the heir to the Mobei clan, not Shang Qinghua’s mother. He could bring him to bed, but he needn’t wash his face for him.

The halls were empty even at this time of night. Disciples had no reason to venture into their peak lord’s quarters even if they stayed up late into the night doing paperwork. It occurred to Mobei Jun that he rarely saw anyone visit the An Ding Peak Lord on anything but official business.

He glanced at the man in his arms, but Shang Qinghua had nestled himself comfortably into the demon’s arms, his face pressed into his robes, still entirely unconscious. Pathetic.

Mobei kicked the bedroom door open unceremoniously.

It was here that Mobei Jun ran into a problem. He often took the peak lord’s bed, but he had just brought Shang Qinghua from his study to bring him to bed. Where was he going to put him if he himself would take the bed?

The birds outside were the first indications that morning had come. Shang Qinghua kept his eyes closed, indulging in the quiet birdsong as long as he could before he would inevitably have to rise and begin the day. Although he felt a bit chilly, he could feel a warm ray of sun on his cheek peeking in from the window. When he finally opened his eyes he blinked lightly, momentarily blinded by that thin ray.

He froze.

The face not two inches from his own was sharp and defined, and dreadfully familiar.

Shang Qinghua nearly fell backwards off the bed in an attempt to get away. Had he crawled into bed with Mobei Jun in his sleep? He hadn’t done that in several years now.

Just as his feet touched the floor the demon stirred, eyes cracking open to stare at him blearily in the dim morning light. If he only raised his hand to lightly rub his eye he might look like a child.

Already so early and Shang Qinghua had done something wrong. Mobei Jun had never reacted well to having his sleep space invaded. Maybe he hadn’t noticed?

“M-my king, I ah…uh…H-how did you sleep?”

“Mn.” he grunted, brushing dark strands of raven black hair from his forehead.

Shang Qinghua stood there in tense silence as Mobei Jun sat up slowly, looking somewhat the image of a cat rising from a long nap, stretching and pulling the blankets away from his legs.

“You fell asleep working.”

Shang Qinghua loosened, glad to know that he hadn’t suddenly developed a gap in his memory. But the implications quickly made him tense again, sneaking an awkward glance back at his companion.

Mobei Jun’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he asked flatly.

“Did…you bring me to bed…?”

The look emanating from the demon heir’s was enough to freeze any man’s heart.

“O-of course not,” Shang Qinghua said quickly, answering his own question. “I’m sorry my king, I wasn’t thinking,”

Mobei Jun’s expression softened at that, then hardened, then softened again. The array of colors glinting in his eyes made Shang Qinghua wary.

“Is…there something wrong?”

There was silence for a moment.

Mobei Jun turned away. “You…kick in your sleep.”

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#mxtx #svsss fanfiction #svsss #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #an ding peak #scumbag system #scum villian self saving system #scumbag villain #scum villain #fanfic #fluff #sleep #marshymeds #undedited rip

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