Remember that scene during the body swap when dfqc in xlh body says "I'm goin to make up witj the moon supreme and then drags xlh on dfqc body".
Well, I imagine this but after 500 years and XLH dragging him to bed to make out lololol
Xiao Lanhua flops backwards into her husband’s and her gigantic shared bed, sinking into the mattress with a bored sigh.
Dongfang Qingcang had been stuck in a council meeting for the past shichen, when he’d promised her it would take no longer than a quarter of one. She’d offered to accompany him, of course, but he’d insisted it was only a small matter and that she should retire to bed early. Let me lift some burdens off your shoulders, Xiao Huayao. You’ve been working hard these past few days.
She’d grumbled and protested, but he was firm in his stance, so she couldn’t argue much. They were both stubborn that way. All he’d left her with was a single kiss to her forehead— not even her mouth!— before he’d disappeared to the throne room to greet the waiting officials.
Her husband was a cruel and tyrannical ruler! She was dying of boredom and the tragedy of being unkissed, and it was all his fault!
With another dramatically loud sigh, she reaches behind her head to undo the pins in her hair, removing them one by one. The last one to go is the Hidden Heart hairpin, and the moment it’s out of her hair, she thinks extremely hard to get the message across: Da Mutou, if you don’t come back soon, I’ll cry!
His amusement flickers back towards her, a gentle current in her mind. Patience, Xiao Huayao. The meeting’s just ended, I’m returning now.
And he’s telling the truth, because she does hear his approaching footsteps. She lights up at the sound and straightens back up, gathering her pins quickly and dumping them on the nightstand. Finally, she can have her husband all to herself, with no one to—
“...and the Fifth District is requesting a lower tax on their goods, since their harvest wasn’t very plentiful this season—”
Xiao Lanhua groans. How have the officials followed him here?
“Benzuo will give this task to the Yuezhu. She’ll make a visit to look at their crops not this week, but the next,” her husband answers. “Benzuo cannot simply lower the import and export taxes, no matter the reason, or other districts will request for the same.”
“Of course, Zunshang. There is also the matter of—”
Her husband interrupts again, more irritated now as he enters their bedroom wing: “Benzuo is tired. We’ll discuss further tomorrow.”
The official pauses, then pipes up sheepishly: “Ah, but Zunshang, just one more thing—”
Nope, nope, and absolutely not!
Xiao Lanhua glides over to meet them, joining them where they’re standing. The official stammers and drops into a respectful bow; she pays him no mind and yanks at her husband’s cloak. Immediately, his full attention is hers, and she pouts up at him and bats her eyelashes, a surefire move to get him to fold.
It works like a charm. His eyes soften immeasurably, and he takes her hands, murmuring to her.
“What is it, Xiao Huayao?”
“Come to bed,” she whines lowly, tugging him. “You’ve been gone too long!”
“It wasn’t that long,” he starts to say, but she just pouts harder. He caves and gestures at the official, clearing his throat. “You’re dismissed. Do not disturb me for the rest of the night.”
The official scrambles up, nodding. “Yes, yes, of course. Zunshang, before I go, I just wanted to say—”
Xiao Lanhua is going to teleport this official out of the room herself. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, so she can’t be blamed for what she does next.
She drags her husband over to their bed and shoves him onto the mattress; his back hits the covers with a soft thud, his crown falling and landing on the pillows. He doesn’t object in the slightest at this, letting her do what she wants.
Xiao Lanhua climbs onto his lap and leans in close to his face, then shouts over her shoulder, a mirror of their past selves: “I’m going to go make out with my husband, now, so you’d better get going!”
She doesn’t need to watch the official leave. She can hear it happen: frantic stumbling and apologizing, dashing out of their room in seconds. The moment he’s gone, she loops her arms around her husband’s neck and pulls him into a long, languid kiss.
“Missed me, didn’t you?” her husband laughs against her lips, winding his fingers through her hair.
Xiao Lanhua simply presses her mouth to his in reply: What do you think, Da Mutou?
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MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 25 / 31 * THE HONEYMOONERS 」
[Date Unknown] 1985A Timeline
Five…six…seven…
Thunder booms, rattling Heaven and Earth with its might. Count the seconds between the flash of lightning and the crack of thunder and it'll tell you how far away the storm is.
Two miles, maybe.
It feels like it's right on top of them.
The ground shakes beneath them, rattling her bones so hard she can feel it in her teeth, and rather than run for cover, she turns to George sitting on the grass beside her, pressed up against a rock, and nestles closer.
“It feels like every time we try and do something, there’s a terrible storm.” Lorraine smiles, but it never reaches her eyes. “Our first dance, our honeymoon—don’t you remember?”
Sighing, Lorraine closes her eyes, losing herself to the grainy film reel of memory rolling behind her eyes. Even soaked to the bone, his clothes clinging awkwardly to him, George was a vision—a dream—and his almost pathetic wet puppy-dog expression made her heart soar. “By the time we got to the hotel, we were soaked. You nearly walked into the door; you couldn’t see anything with your hair in your eyes like that! I had to keep brushing your bangs out of your eyes while you carried our bags.”
George smiles, indulging the trip down memory lane with a gentle squeeze to her hand. He’s cold again, Lorraine thinks distantly—he’s been terribly cold lately, as if the sun has refused to touch him, angry with him for some perceived slight against it—but that doesn’t bother her.
She’ll keep warm enough for both of them. Light that fire in her chest and her stomach and stoke it until he leaches every ounce of warmth through her fingers for himself and his cheeks glow with it.
It’s all for him, anyway.
“That was one of the happiest nights of my life. I can’t believe you thought you ruined it just because of a storm. ‘We must be cursed, Lorraine,’ you told me, and I thought that was one of the most ridiculous things I'd ever heard. Even more ridiculous than when you told me about Darth Vader.”
“But that—”
“Really happened, I know. I believed you.”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually.” Lorraine chokes on the laugh she tries to force out. The first drops of rain pelt her cheeks and she uses her free hand to furiously wipe them away, ignoring the stinging sensation on her skin.
“We should go inside—the storm’s coming. You’ll get soaked.”
Lorraine shakes her head furiously, squeezing George’s hand so tight her nails bite deep into her palms, drawing blood. The wind sighs as it whips her messy hair around her head, knowing there is no changing her mind.
“I don’t care about the rain. I like sitting out here with you. It’ll be just like all the other times, won’t it, George?”
Just like all the other times.
Just like last time.
A second wave of burning rain bites at her cheeks and George lets go of her hand to gently drag his thumb across her cheek. Lorraine chokes back another sob, her shoulders trembling with the effort it takes to keep herself composed.
Her cheeks are still burning. The earth smells like petrichor.
The next crack of thunder shatters her composure, leaving her ears ringing. Lorraine’s shaky fingers fumble at her pocket as she curls her fingers around the crystal clear flame protected within, sloshing around in its container.
George never did get wet when it rained.
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