Work Text:
[were tomatoes around in ancient times? check later.]
Mobei Jun frowns at the bizarre message before replying “you have the wrong number” to try and spare himself the annoyance of some stranger asking him about tomatoes?
[<<autoreply>> System Error - Invalid Number. Please re-send using a valid…]
Frown deepens but there’s nothing he can do past delete the random text and chalk it up to funny radio waves or something beyond his realm of comprehension. It’s late and he really can’t care any less.
.
[dear diary: fuckfuckFUCKf fuckfFUCkfCKCFCUK!Fuckkity FEUCK! Thank you for coming to my TED talk Airplane you IDIOT!]
He gets this message while suiting up for practice, glancing at his phone that’s nearly vibrating off the bench. It’s the same invalid number, previous message lingering above in spite of Mobei Jun having deleted it. No sign of his error notification though. He tries again to reply “you have the wrong number”.
[<<autoreply>> System Error - Invalid Number. Please re-send using a valid…]
He deletes it with a growl.
Another message appears seconds after.
[grocery store list: red bull X5 that good ramen X12 time machine to go back and fix mistakes of life X1]
He deletes the message as Luo Binghe yells at him to move his ass, if he delays any longer the team captain is going to come over here and they’re probably going to fight.
.
It’s been two weeks since the weird messages have infected his phone. Each more erratic or bizarre than the last. Whoever this was liked to talk to himself, Mobei Jun assumes. A lot of “airplane do this” and “airplane you idiot” before endless scrolls of text went on about what breed of silkworm made sense for an era and random myths Mobei Jun has never even heard about.
No matter how many times he deletes the messages, or tries to respond, they just pop back up like nothing was done and it was starting to get annoying. (read as: had already been annoying when in class his phone blew up because this Airplane jackass decided to copy and paste seventeen wikipedia articles on bird migrations for no apparent reason!)
He took the device to a shop, the service provider should be able to fix this weird cross over. But when they took a look they couldn’t find anything. No messages no nothing.
Mobei Jun felt crazy and shelled out the extra cash to get a new device, different model, everything. His trust fund could support it so what did he care that he had to drop the amount? Anything to get the annoying messages to stop.
.
They don’t stop.
He gets a week of quiet before he’s jolted awake by a barrage of text notifications.
No one messages him but Binghe (or his uncle but that number is silent) and Binghe never sends more than one bossy text and that’s it.
Mobei Jun looks, lifting himself with a growl from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch. His home is silent, always empty. There’s a distant glug of a fish tank that’s been empty since he impulse bought it months ago. (Realizing halfway through that he didn’t actually want to own a fish) Lights off and the apartment was perfectly still save for the phone losing its mind on the coffee table.
[do lightning bugs think?] The text reads, followed by multiple sources of insect migration through southeast asia and funny looking bugs with shitty names.
Mobei Jun just imagines dropping his fist down on the skull of this mystery sender. Crack their head right open and spare the world one idiot.
He takes a few screenshots just in case the text thread disappears, already deciding to take the device back to the shop tomorrow. He can skip classes fine, this was worth it. His peace of mind was being upended and he couldn’t take it anymore, there had to be a way to fix this!
Mobei Jun has his thumb poised on the off button, ready to be done with this for the night, when the text preview pops up again.
[dear diary, this is why he doesn’t like you.]
His thumb pulls off the button, swiping to open the text. He felt no guilt at the curiosity towards such a message, frozen halfway crouched off his couch as he opened the full message screen. Scrolling through the rambling questions about demons and exoskeletons until he caught up to the last texts.
[you’re so weird. you know that? yea you, who is me who is you who sucks.]
[god I’m so annoying.]
Mobei Jun feels he shouldn’t be looking at this. He types in “wrong number”
[<<autoreply>> System Error - Invalid Number. Please re-send using a valid…]
Pointless.
He stares at the words again, trying to burn the smallest creep of sympathy working it’s way up his throat. He shouldn’t feel bad for this idiot, they are annoying and Mobei Jun has the obnoxious texts to prove it.
The messages stop for the night so Mobei Jun leaves his phone on. He doesn’t delete the thread but it’s still missing by the time he shows up at the store. A manager, politely as she can implies he’s trying to break the contract but Mobei Jun leaves without further complaint.
He flips through his phone again and the messages are back. Of course they are.
.
This Airplane person has...very INTERESTING tastes in reading materials.
It’s all porn.
Really.
All of it.
There’s an entire night where his phone blows up with links to free online writing sites, original and fan fiction. One click is enough for Mobei Jun to realize the sort of works they are, descriptions alone ranging from raunchy romantic trash to explicit hump fests that the tags alone makes his face heat.
Twice Mobie Jun has to look up what a warning actually means and sets his phone down each time to walk away and feel like he needs a shower.
There’s men with men, men with women, women with women, women with men with men with trees?? How does that even work?!
Any sympathy strung along from this airplane person’s miserable dear diary moment was completely dashed the more these horny stories flooded his phone and left Mobei Jun staring. Scandalized and struck silent at the intensity in which this stranger apparently consumed such media.
The worst part is, Mobei Jun also gets to watch a one sided conversational critique of the works as they went through.
[can you use food like that? What about infections?]
[note to self, squelch is a bad mouth word.]
[look up how much a male’s body produces…]
Mobei Jun is horrified.
But he keeps reading.
Why does he keep reading?
[this one is the best, refer to this for inspiration] airplane person notes on one fic, and every part of him screams “don’t click it” but Mobei Jun does. He’s curious now, he needs to know. There are so many wild fics and stories streaming across his phone over the past 5 hours. He has no one around to be ashamed for and even if he did they wouldn’t care what he did.
No one cares what Mobei Jun does. He’s alone for that reason.
He shakes thoughts free and glances through the fic. Some fan work of a book he’s never heard of.
It’s depraved and tagged with more warnings of sexual exploration than Mobei Jun ever thought could fit in a story which claimed to have a plot. He thought, where could the plot be hiding? Between the [redacted] and [redacted]? That would be a tight fit.
It’s 95 thousand words of pure porn between two men of very different sizes.
Mobei Jun reads every word of it.
.
[being held after sex, good or messy?]
[when does one clean up?]
[if you love them do you forget about morning breath?]
[note to self, sexy demon minty fresh morning breath.]
[cold skin? Icicles? power to negate freeze, good for kisses. ]
[chilly hands, long elegant fingers tracing the sweeping edges of a ribcage beneath flushed skin. one hand fixed tight around two feeble wrists, ink stained and rough, it only takes one hand. heartbeat like a bird’s wings fighting against a storm]
[blue tongue]
[blue tongue is so good]
[find out what makes tongues blue]
[why do snakes have forked tongues]
[would his mouth be cold against my…]
“What the hell are you reading?”
Mobei Jun almost breaks the phone in his grasp. Tearing his eyes away as he shoves the device back into his gym bag while Binghe watches him, mouth twitching with arrogance.
“Nothing.” He snaps, turning his face away from the teammate and collecting his things as quickly as possible.
.
[the perfect man would be tall. big shoulders for carrying things AND looking fine as hell in structured clothing.]
“You say that, but you haven’t tried shopping for a jacket that fits.” Mobei Jun huffs at the screen.
[long masculine fingers a must. firm grip, exudes confidence and doesn’t get flustered easily.]
He wonders what long masculine fingers means to this airplane stranger? Mobei Jun looks at his own hand, flexes it with curiosity.
[strong silent type - but vocal. growls? huffs? scoffs? do people scoff irl??!]
Mobei Jun scoffs at the text, then bites his tongue.
[gentle.]
[not gentle.]
[tender when he wants to be.]
[anything but shy.]
[he’d be real cool, he’d say “you’re mine” with the #mood of a king <3 who would decline that!?]
Mobei Jun thinks a sane person would but the thought of that...interesting.
[being shy sucks.]
His mouth twitches, amused. Hand wants to pet something oddly enough, or pat a head. He imagines a pout, a miserable little face scrunched up, shy . Cute.
He thinks about a hamster and that’s weird.
[hates physical contact except from me.]
Mobei Jun swallows awkwardly.
[their person*******]
[this is not main character material.]
The texts stop for a night and Mobei Jun rereads the words once, twice, five times more.
.
He’s sent photos of a timeline one day. A world named and various peaks and cultivating lords and weird demons and horny devices.
The horny devices make him laugh. So does the [papapapa!] inserted between scenes described. Some shitty peak lord mistreating their disciple. There are no names yet, the characters given vague descriptions as the story is being flushed out.
Mobei Jun thinks the story is a little weak and watches for days on end as it’s changed. New characters added, more wives more sex more troubles.
“Don’t do that.” He speaks to the phone when he’s laying across his bed and the airplane makes notes about his terrible childhood and backstory.
He doesn’t know why it’s making him feel low. Like he’s watching someone spin a web of their own sad tales and implant their misery onto others. Well, not real people, not people who matter. Just characters. He wondered if it was healing, writing. Why people spent this much energy trying to tell stories, to share their imagination he assumes. But why?
[will people like this?] airplane notes when he makes an interesting suggestion to himself about the main characters. About mutual pain and parallel hurt and redemption.
“Yes.” Mobei Jun says, types the word even.
[<<autoreply>> System Error - Invalid Number. Please re-send using a valid…]
The error pisses him off.
[just let me do one thing right.]
Ah.
One of those nights.
Mobei Jun sits up in his bed and cradles his phone in his lap. Watching curious as the messages grow sadder. Empty. Hurtful.
He thinks, if he ever witnessed someone saying these things out loud even he might stop them.
“You have good ideas.” He speaks to the phone. “And weird taste in porn, but you’re ok.” He doesn’t know why he responds. It’s creepy and weird and he thinks his uncle only needs one excuse to start destroying his life. Talking to text messages would be too easily turned against him. But Mobei Jun only looks now when no one is around, half embarrassed at being caught and maybe a little worried.
This whole thing is a massive invasion of privacy.
He tried to fix it. He did.
But his airplane stuck around and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.
His.
“Good night airplane.” Mobei Jun turns the phone off for the night.
.
[lonely demon. cold but stern. second in command, a king by his own right. powerful but not cocky - willing to serve this demon lord because he knows he can’t win.]
Mobei Jun thinks this cold demon could probably kick the stallions ass but, whatever.
Ice is pretty cool.
[beautiful but sitting alone in a frigid palace]
He can’t help his gaze from flickering up at his home, empty for years. Father dead, mother who knows where, uncle cruel.
[driving force? power? no*****]
“A home.” Speaks out loud and feels foolish for it. “Someone to be there.”
Airplane changes gears and goes on a tangent saving articles about rhinos for what seems like no reason and Mobei Jun laughs into the empty home.
.
“Are you going to keep being weird and not telling us you’re dating someone?” Shu Hualing keeps poking his shoulder until he has to physically stop her. Pushing her off the table and into Luo Binghe’s lap. “You dick!”
“Shut up.”
“Leave him alone he’s shy.” Binghe mocks and the word upsets Mobei Jun more than it should.
Airplane doesn’t like shy
“Oh wow your face!” Shu Hualing cackles, earning a glare from the librarian across the way, a few other university students looking upset as well. “You’re blushing, and here I thought your blood was made of ice.”
Mobei Jun doesn’t dignify her with a response but he notices Luo Binghe watching him with a sharp eye while the girl returns to her earlier perch.
His phone goes off, multiple times. Airplane must be writing and he wonders if he’s named a character yet. It’s been awhile and Mobei Jun wants to know their names. He wants to know if the airplane is going to keep the shitty horny plot or go with the love story they keep trying to avoid.
Airplane is writing a love story and it’s driving Mobei Jun crazy when they leave notes for themself claiming no one wants that.
He’s not a romantic person, but the way this stranger writes - the snippets sent - the way they send themself damn emojis when they write something good. It’s infuriating to think they’ll throw it all away because some faceless usernames on the internet want a big dick work it’s way through a harem.
Airplane wants a love story.
They should have one.
“Is this him??”
Mobei Jun glances down and feels himself tense at the sight of his phone in Shu Hualing’s hand, the device hovering between the two.
Luo Binghe looks ready to burst out laughing and Mobei Jun finds his teammate doesn’t put up as much of a struggle as one might have expected from the man. Letting the phone be pulled away and Mobie Jun stares at what Shu Hualing is grinning about.
It’s a picture.
A photograph.
Not a link not a screenshot.
A photo of a boy with messy hair and heavy glasses with the angle clearly implying he is the one taking the photo. Awkward smile as he holds up something just out of frame, a bad photo really as nothing is really in focus.
But it’s him.
Mobei Jun knows it’s him.
“You’re dating a nerd wow.” Shu Hualing snickers as Mobei Jun stares.
[proof i don’t totally suck]
He assumes that’s in reference to whatever he’s holding in the photo, maybe a certificate or something - he doesn’t know.
But he’s staring at a photo of this stranger who’s been spamming him for months now.
He sees pink cheeks and messy hair and small hands and a scrunched up face looking pathetic and shy and again a fucking hamster comes to mind.
“You didn’t tell me you were dating Shang Qinghua.” Luo Binghe fakes a pout, his gaze looking mischievous.
“What?”
“Oh shit!” Shu Hualing covers her mouth. “That’s hysterical!”
Mobei Jun almost finds himself in Luo Binghe’s lap, grabbing his collar and causing a few students nearby to make noises of alarm. They’re too big for this, the chair pushing dangerously towards breaking and Mobei Jun really doesn’t care.
“Shang Qinghua, how do you know him?” Airplane has a name. Airplane has a name.
Luo Binghe gives a shitty smirk, looking delighted at the turn of events.
“He’s friends with my Shizun...but why should I tell you?”
Ah.
He wants to fight.
Ok then.
.
“You!”
Shang Qinghua finds himself the focus of a very scary voice. A sudden scramble of nearby students and a smear of black and blue come into focus.He nearly drops his books exiting the lecture hall, ready to retype notes and sell them to his fellow classmates who fell asleep during the time.
His heart stops, staring up, up, up at the approaching figure like a leather clad blizzard. An intimidating height suddenly pouring his shadow over Shang Qinghua’s form and he’s back to wanting to drop his books and run.
This man is terrifying.
This man is gorgeous!
“Whatever it is I promise I didn’t do it but I’ll apologize!” He squeaks, being backed up against the hallway, no student (or teacher) in sight willing to give a hand! What is this? What did he do to deserve this sort of death?! The man raises his hand and he can’t help but cry out “Wait!” Ready to duck and beg for mercy further---
A hand plenty large rests atop his hand.
He’s being--
He’s being patted?!
The hottest man he’s ever seen in his life is patting his head!??!
Is this a prank!? Did Cucumber Bro catch him staring at his boyfriend and this is revenge?! How could you do this Cucumber Bro!?
“Shang Qinghua.” The voice is deep and molten and actually if he dies with that as his last sound maybe it will be a good death.
He dares to open one eye, look up at the form pinning him to the wall by the sultry punk charisma alone. His knees go weak at blue eyes - who did this guy think he was Bruce Wayne?? - and there’s
Holy shit.
This random hottie is smiling at him.
“Uh-yea that’s me. Unless you want to kill that person then it’s totally not me.” He squeaks and the hand retreats, a cool thumb brushing his cheek.
“I’m Mobei Jun.” The sexy voice introduces himself and Shang Qinghua is glad to know the name of the man he’s going to fantasize over for the rest of his life (if he survives this.) “And you’re mine.”
“Oh.”
Shang Qinghua stares at the knife-smile a little longer.
“Yeah that’s cool….” A pause. “WHAT?!”