#something that makes it difficult to 'hide' that all three of them have. they actively stand out

[baalzebufo]

actually, posting the little commentary clip where alex talks about gideons origins because I want it on my blog haha

[queenimmadolla]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

(eddie munson x pregnant!reader)

Summary: You and Eddie discuss your current pregnancy craving...or, in which you want something not all that common of a craving and ridiculously difficult to get a hold of, and Eddie teases you over it even though you both know he's going to get it for you.

warnings: references to baby making activities.

a/n: those damn tiktoks keep getting to me. lil drabble. more dad!eddie here. masterlist.

Pregnancy was not something Eddie Munson believed he would ever understand. Wasn’t something he thought he’d have to do.

  Until—at the very responsible age of twenty─he took to finishing inside of you and one of his swimmers took. Played hide-and-seek for a good five months before either of you knew she was there.

  You hadn’t started showing until about two or three weeks after finding out, and now at almost seven months, you had the cutest baby bump Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off, a ravenous hunger for the most peculiar things and absolutely no tolerance for the weirdest fucking things; the sound of kernels popping made you want to throw up, and so did the scent of baked goods and the ‘air on Tuesdays’ (Eddie was still trying to work that one out).

  Whatever you wanted, Eddie got you. Albeit, with tons of questions asked. Like, right now.

  It was late in the evening, chilly throughout the trailer but warm in the room thanks to the trusty space heater Eddie had had for years. The both of you had traded your day clothes for pajamas, so you were in one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he was only clad in a pair of sweats because his body temperature always ran a little on the hot side, and you were curled right up to him. Your head had been previously nuzzling into the crook of his neck, placing kisses over the tendons there and nosing along his jaw but now it was craned back, batting those pretty eyelashes up at him with pleading eyes and a pout.

  “Pleeeaaaaase, Eddie?”

  “Branzino.” Eddie repeated your request with amused disbelief.

  “It’s low in mercury, so I can eat it.”

  “Branzino.”

  “It’s what she wants!” You chirped, moving a hand to rest over your growing bump. Baby Munson, your little Penny, had recently learned she had legs and could stretch them out in there. Despite the two of you settling down, she seemed to be filled with energy; you could feel her moving around, targeting certain areas with her kicks. She’d been pretty still for a good hour or two so you thought she might have woken up from a nap. 

  “Yeah?” Eddie asked, quirking his brows with lidded eyes, so engrossed with how caring you were for his baby already. 

  Witnessing you go from awkwardly acknowledging her existence with a pat or uncertain conversation to almost always having a hand over your bump, as if to protect her from a threat while talking to her as though she was already cradled in your arms, had Eddie always so tender with emotion. 

  He was so proud and in love.

  You hummed in confirmation and when Eddie’s hand moved your (his) shirt up, you immediately grasped his wrist to place his palm over the area your baby’s foot was currently pressing up against. Eddie grinned as he felt the movement just under the warmth of your skin, firm and held surprisingly long before it retreated and he rubbed over the area as you relaxed further into him.

  “She was stretching.” He correctly deduced. 

  “Mhm, she’s been kicking the heck out of my ribcage, so I think her head is right here.” You placed your free hand over your bump, just under your left breast, “She only got active after we showered, so she just woke up.”

  Eddie felt a little guilty about that, it had probably been him railing you against the shower wall that stirred her from her slumber.

  “Sorry, sweet pea.” He mumbled, continuing to rub your belly if not somewhat more apologetic, “I’m just so excited that I can’t get your mom pregnant right now, ‘cause we already have you, and she’s just so horn—“

  Eddie laughed as you delivered a swift whack to his chest with the back of your hand, fighting a smile as he teased you through an attempt to talk to your baby.

  “Excuse me, you were the one trying to feel me up on the couch!”

  “No, I did feel you up. And if I recall correctly, which I do, it was my fingers you were cum—“

  “Distracting!” You pointed an accusatory finger in his face, booping the tip of his nose with it, “You’re trying to distract me. Branzino.”

  “Ugh,” Eddie sagged into the pillows, but the smirk on his face told you you’d be getting exactly what you wanted, like always. He just liked to give you a hard time. Banter with you was like foreplay to him. “Alright, alright. Since you must have your fish dish─”

  “I must,” You placed the back of your hand against your forehead as you fell dramatically back into the pillows.

  “And since she’s craving it─”

  “She wants branzino so badly and I’d get it for her myself but I’m utterly exhausted─no, not because we had sex,” You had immediately clocked the grinch like twist in his smirk at your mentioning of exhaustion, “I’ll have you know I probably made a good chunk of her brain today. That takes energy. Dedication. And she probably sucked the bone marrow out of me to do it, or something.”

  Eddie threw his head back and howled with laughter. You giggled along with him but tried to reason, “Okay, I’m not being completely dramatic, though! She really does steal some of my own body to make hers! I could lose my teeth, Eddie. I read it in a book.”

  The bed shook with how hard Eddie was laughing and you delighted in being the reason behind it. Once he calmed down, his head lulled to the side, cheeks red from all that amusement and warm brown hues focused on you.

  “You read it in a book, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Ask your doctor about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “…’Cause I’m scared she’ll say it’s true.”

  You sent Eddie into another laughing fit. When he was done with that one, he launched himself out of bed and you snuggled into the spot he’d occupied—so warm and cozy—to watch him grab a shirt and hoodie from the closet, and his jacket from where he’d thrown it on the dresser. A beanie was shoved on his head and as he wrapped the scarf you’d gotten him around his neck, he eyed you with mirth twinkling in his pretty eyes.

  “Branzino in the middle of winter.”

  “It’s what she wants!”

  “It’s what she wants.” He conceded with a fond smile, “I’ll be back after like an hour and a half of driving around to find a Greek place open so you can replenish your bone marrow with it somehow and grow the rest of her brain.”

  You hummed in appreciation, beaming at him as he neared you to lean over and get a thorough kiss goodbye. 

  “Thank you,” You mumbled shyly against his mouth.

  “You don’t have to thank me . . . but you’re welcome.” He teased.

  Driving around in the cold didn't seem all that terrible with you blowing him kisses from the bed, and his baby growing inside you. 

  That damn fish was so worth it.

[azulsluver]

Ur bully au is so good I could slurp it up but it got me wondering

How would all the students react to the reader just. trying to kill themselves because of the endless torment? would they keep harassing? would they say something about it? or would they tone it down? I must know because If I was in that situation i know damn well unaliving myself would be the first option

There’s more than one asking but ima just get this over with

tw. yandere, attempted suicide, suicide, cutting, bully!characters, mentioned torture, humiliation, blood, slight gore, neglection, fucked up reader (deadass).

Here are some thoughts and reactions bellow!

When asking, what role does this character do in this so called ‘bully!au’? You have to look at a deeper perspective of how each person behaves, what the intention is, and how it’s done.

So when the subject of suicide is involved it can get confusing depending on what caused it. Self worth is hinted in the reader, insecurities are brought and laughed at because it needs to hit a spot. Because YOU have feelings, watching it be stripped by people in far greater power than you, people with money, influence, and within number. Standing up to a bully is difficult, the struggles you go through should’ve been realistic.

When push comes to shove, they’re not all coming for you. If you enjoy the idea of every character ruining your life— that’s fine— but, it’s usually one or three. I think it’s childish, when I first made this AU, some sort of amusement in finding hurt but comfort when writing, they’re not trying to kill you, you know. You just catch their eye, more than they could like. Rejection is one thing, but another is a fair game of a sadistic approach. Whether they verbally or physically abuse you is up to place bets on what kills you.

For NRC years, yes, they constantly nagged and followed you around. But the times they would actively seek you out would be less than you think, the focus on bullying would be isolation. They don’t have to hurt you everyday. Some time for yourself to heal and think over your situation. What would you eat? Would they play nice and ignore you for tonight? Did your look piss off someone from afar? Let them cheat off you! Don’t be such a bore, it’ll all go back to just you and Grim.

If you picked up self harming, it’s noticeable. Hiding it is nearly impossible. They grab and bite at you already so what makes you think hiding was a good idea? It’s nasty and unplanned, miss them? Miss their touch that you havta recreate it? It’s horrible to mention, but caring really depends on who calls you out.

I can say you like it. Or you fucking hate it. You hate, hateee, how they treat you. You crawl on all fours for them to laugh and pat your head, do a dare and lick off from their hand but money is involved.

What did you do, was it simple, messy, perfect headshot if you will. If your need to die was to simply hurt them in any way— it might work. Poor them, they can’t imagine being away from you for too long. Some are more uninterested than the others. Who gives a shit you died? Whoever had the luck of finding you, dead or in the act, serves a purpose of letting you live or die. Cruel as they may be, you tug at a couple of heart strings.

Let’s say it was an attempt:

Sprang into action, either holding you down or taking whatever object you’re using to harm yourself. They’re gonna make sure this doesn’t happen again, you gave them quite the spook. Have fun being watched 24/7, and if they couldn’t, everything will be baby proofed for your safety, isn’t that nice, they care. Thrash all you want, screaming and crying won’t get you anywhere, but they’ll bite their tongue once and a while to prevent this from happening.

Trey, Riddle, Azul, Vil, Jack, Deuce, Sebek,

Oohh…he’s so sorry. Please forgive him, crying on his knees and rubbing his head against your chest. It doesn’t matter if the blood stains his clothes, you nearly died and he feels awful. He promises so many times for harm to look the other way, twisted, yet unavoidable. Trapped in a tight, monitored schedule were his scent and voice is all you’ll ever need. But at least there’s a change of heart, your health is improving and that’s all that matters to him, but speak to him, he wants to hear you.

Silver, Malleus, Kalim

Should he have stopped you, but what good will it do for him? Frozen in the moment, their bodies do the thinking, rational, to prevent you from escaping them. You’re funny, reaaal funny, got good jokes at time. But, he’s not really laughing. A little, but it’s hysterically funny and scary. Because he’s still so rough, even when he apologizes yet calls you stupid, his fingers hurt you more than whatever you had planned, gripping, as if you really died.

Jamil, Ace, Cater, Ruggie, Leona, Idia, Floyd, Epel

Does it hurt? Did you find your ulna? Was the rope too tight? It feels like he’s only here to see the end credits, the finale. The sick fuck is smiling too, gross. Giving up just leaves you with him by your side, pressing it deeper to help you get the job done…just kidding! That was quite a show you put on, this is why he likes you. Being responsible of another’s cause of death isn’t ideal, so he’ll try to watch you as of now.

Lilia, Rook, Jade

From that list alone you can guess who’s to mourn, and who savors what is left. Death is inevitable. Everyone dies one way.

[piracytheorist]

I'm the type of Spy x Family fan that sees so much angst potential in Identity RevealsTM, so I'm thinking about the heartbreak Yor will feel after it, when she'll realize that Loid is not as kind as she thought he was.

When she meets him, from her point of view, he's just a widowed father who wants the best education of his daughter, at the same time honouring his late wife's dying wish. Investing in a child's good education is something Yor greatly relates to, seeing how hard she worked to provide one for Yuri. Point one.

She asks him to play the part of her boyfriend, and he immediately accepts; he asks for a favour back, but he's satisfied with only Yor's promise to keep her end of the deal. He's showing trust in her and kindness by being willing to fulfill his end of the deal first, thus risking Yor walking out on her promise. Point two.

Despite being injured - something that Yor fully trusts is an occupational hazard for him (I mean, it is, but not because of the occupation she really thinks of) - he still fulfills his end of the deal, albeit messing up and saying he's her husband (though this doesn't count as much, because it came to Yor's advantage in the end). Point three.

(Remember, at this point Yor doesn't know of Loid's plan to convince her to marry him officially, and that this was why he mixed up his introduction. She just thought he made an unrelated mistake out of rush and being wounded)

Taking the opportunity from Loid's mistake of calling himself her husband, Yor asks him to marry her (again, she has no idea of his actual plans; she only knows he wanted her to pretend to be his wife for the interview and only, and that then they'd part ways). He immediately accepts and actually vows to be there for her in difficult times. Point four.

He welcomes her into his family and home, even giving her her own bedroom and her privacy. He has no demands of her regarding to household chores, praises how clean she keeps the apartment - even in front of a misogynistic guy who has power over them in the interview (and we as the audience know that was not For the Mission, as Twilight immediately goes like "Wait why am I getting worked up over this") - he trusts her input when it comes to raising Anya, shows genuine happiness and praise when she makes a tasty meal for them, all of that culminating in the bench scene where he openly and emotionally praises what she fears is a deal-breaker flaw of hers, her physical strength. Point five.

He accepts her eccentric brother that she adores, and after the messy meeting they had with him where said brother left cursing at Loid left and right, Loid is not only understanding, he also opens up about how he envies her relationship with Yuri (and again, we the audience know it's an honestly vulnerable moment for him; not a For The Mission thing). Point six.

So overall, she gets the image of a kind, trusting fellow who is willing to help her despite there not being any (obvious) gains for him outside having a wife stand-in for the interview. To her, Loid had no reasons to keep up their agreement after the interview, especially after Anya got in the school. But he still gladly keeps it on while doing his best to be a good and supportive roommate... and friend.

Like, we joke how gullible Yor is, and not only when it comes to him. But from her point of view, what with especially hiding from him that she's an assassin of all things, he's just as much if not more gullible.

Through all that, Yor genuinely builds feelings for the Forger family - and unlike Twilight, she's much faster in accepting and embracing them. She has no reason to act motherly towards Anya; heck, she has no reason to even spend time with them when they're indoors. She could just stay in her room all the time and never take part in dining together, helping Anya with her homework and activities (like how she helped Anya train for the dodgeball game) and being by their side in general. In only a few months' time, she's already invested in them emotionally so much that the thought of leaving them terrifies her. She's been truly kind and open with them, and now wishes she can keep her place in the family, and not for her job - but because she truly cherishes that place.

So... yeah. Think how all that will come breaking down when she finds out what Loid's original plan was :)

He wasn't trying to get Anya into Eden to provide for her future, nor honouring his "late wife's" dying wish; it was for the mission, after the end of which he fully intended on abandoning Anya.

He didn't agree to play her boyfriend out of kindness; it was to have a leverage over her so that she'd keep her end of the deal - and god I just thought how she might think that him introducing himself as her husband was intentional so that he'd back her up into a corner later to actually marry him (something we know isn't true, but maybe in a very emotional aftermath of identity reveals Yor could very well consider a possibility).

He didn't accept to marry her because he was being helpful towards her - he was simply advancing his own mission.

Now, we know that a lot of the things Loid praises her for come from the truest depths of himself, but Yor does not have the audience's point of view to see that - when she learns that he's a spy and that he's told her so many lies, she'll have no reason to believe anything of what he's told her is true.

His interest in Anya's future, the trust and acceptance he showed her, his supporting words, his efforts to be a good roommate, the vulnerability he showed her... those are all things that Yor would've admired him for, and from a romance perspective, fell in love with him for. Those will all be doubted by her when she finds out what he really is and it will be devastating.

As many other people do, I doubt Yor will be upset by him having lied to her about his job, because she did the same. The heartbreak will come from her knowing she showed her true self as the wife and mother of the Forgers, while when the truth comes out she'll have no idea who the real man behind Loid Forger is. She trusted him, supported him, protected him, opened up to him, fell in love with him... and then that "him" will be pulled from under her feet to reveal a guy who has been using her from the moment he first laid eyes on her.

Of course, like the next twiyor shipper, I want that to resolve into Twilight proving to her that the feelings he grew for her and Anya, the trust he showed her and the connection he built with them were genuine, and the family staying together by the end. I JUST WANT THAT ANGST FIRST.

(No manga spoilers please 😁)

[kckt88]

Three Hearts, One Breath.

Summary:

After kissing his brothers wife, Aegon tries to distance himself from his growing feelings.

However Vaeryna and Aemond have other ideas.

Warning(s): Language, Exploring, Body Worship, Kissing, Incest, Smut - F/M/M, Lactation Kink, Daddy Kink, Fingering, Oral Sex (M & F Receiving), P in V Sex, P in A, Double Penetration, Multiple Orgasms, Cum Eating.

Word Count: - 5063.

PURE FILTH - I'M SORRY. IT'S DEPRAVED.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

One Shot Take My Breath Away AU

AEMOND X O.C & AEGON X O.C

Tag List -@immyowndefender, @fanficapologist, @wickedfrsgrl, @queenofthekeep, @kaelatargaryen

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

How could he be so stupid? Kissing Vaeryna like that, literally just after she’d given birth.

There was something wrong him, there had to be for him to do something so stupid like that.

This infatuation with Vaeryna had to stop, she was his brothers wife. Of course, his curiosity towards how brother didn’t help matters either.

The only immediate solution to his problem, was to actively avoid Vaeryna and Aemond at all costs, of course he had council meetings to attend to which would make things difficult with regards to Aemond, but he would avoid Vaeryna.

He would surround himself with guards and make sure no one approached, he would also avoid his favoured whores, indulging in his usual habits wouldn’t help, not right now.

As hard as it was to avoid his good sister, he seemed to manage it.

In the weeks since Aegar’s birth and her recovery, Vaeryna had tried multiple times to gain an audience with Aegon, they would usually have dinner together every Thursday, but he made his excuses, even his trips to the gardens were off limits as Vaeryna would often frequent them in the hopes of running into him.

It pained him to cut her off, but he just couldn’t be around her anymore.

Which is why he found himself hiding in his chambers like a coward.

Gods, his mother was right. He was nothing more than a disgrace, she once said his carnal urges would be the death of him and she was correct.

Because once his brother found out what he’d done, he would kill him, admittedly it was odd that Vaeryna hadn’t told him yet, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t eventually.

As his heir Rhaegar wasn't old enough, upon his death, Aemond would ascend the Iron Throne with Vaeryna by his side as his Queen, mayhaps the crown of the conqueror would look better on Aemond than it ever did on-

A soft knock brought Aegon out of his reverie.

“W-Who is it?” asked Aegon, his voice shaking.

“It’s Vaeryna”

Oh shit.

He could ignore her; he should ignore her. He’d made a promise to himself to stay away from Vaeryna and let go of his feelings for her.

He would stay firm in his decision to avoid her, he could tell her to leave him alone, he could even be cruel to her in the hopes that she would hate him enough to stay away.

Yes, that was a plan, open the door and tell her to leave him alone.

So, with that plan in mind Aegon opened the door and-

“What’s wrong?” asked Aegon concerned as he spotted Vaeryna’s tearful gaze.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” asked Vaeryna.

“I haven’t-“

“-Yes, you have, I called your name yesterday and you turned away from me, you won’t have dinner with me anymore and I never see you in the gardens” said Vaeryna.

“I-I just don’t-“

“-Is this because of what happened the day Aegar was born?” asked Vaeryna.

“N-No”

“You are such a bad liar Aegon Targaryen. Why are you treating me like this? What did I do wrong?” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“It’s not you-it’s me” replied Aegon.

“Then what is it?” questioned Vaeryna.

“Who-“

“What are you a fucking owl? Just spit it out” snapped Vaeryna.

“I LOVE YOU-OK I FUCKING LOVE YOU”

“Aegon” gasped Vaeryna.

“I don’t know when or how long, but I do-I’ve tried not too, but I can’t stop” said Aegon.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?”

“WHAT?” asked Aegon.

“What if I want you to love me, what if I want you as much as I want Aemond”.

“Then I would think you were having a joke at my expense, there’s no way I would ever believe such a thing” replied Aegon.

“Well, believe it” muttered Vaeryna.

Aegon didn’t have a fucking clue what was happening, one minute he was staring at Vaeryna like she had three heads and the next-well, he had her pressed up against the door as he kissed her, their hands grasping at one another desperately.

It was only when Aemond appeared that Aegon reared away from Vaeryna.

“I-I can explain” stammered Aegon.

“You can explain why your kissing my wife?” asked Aemond cocking his head to the side.

“It was me-I came onto her; she isn’t too blame-I am” gasped Aegon.

“An admirable sentiment, however, you do realise that I was aware of the reason for Vaeryna’s visit” said Aemond, his arms folded behind his back.

“What?” exclaimed Aegon, looking at Vaeryna who blushed.

“Well, you see brother, your infatuation with my wife has not gone unnoticed, and of course that has been the reason for your avoidance these last few weeks” said Aemond closing the door and sliding the lock into place with a soft click.

“Oh fuck-“ muttered Aegon under his breath, this was it-the day he was going to die. He hoped his lady mother wouldn’t be too upset, well perhaps not. She always did prefer Aemond over him, mayhaps she would be glad that he was dead.

“My wife is truly one of my most precious treasures” said Aemond, advancing upon Aegon like a predator upon its prey.

“Y-Yes” breathed Aegon nervously.

“I will not concede her too you, but I am willing at times to share”

“S-Share?” asked Aegon.

“Hm”

“It’s ok Aegon-why chose when there is the option for both” said Vaeryna sweetly.

Aegon’s gaze shifted from Vaeryna to Aemond and back again, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing-surely, they weren’t suggesting some kind of threesome were they?

Wait-was he actually dead and this was some form of heaven because there was no way this was even remotely real.

“B-Both?”

“Yes- besides didn't mother always tell us to share” said Aemond as he began unfastening his leather doublet.

Oh fuck.

This was real, and it was happening.

Aemond released Vaeryna’s mouth and bent down to lick her nipples.

“Oh” muttered Vaeryna as she flung her arms over her face, as pearly white liquid began to leak from her breasts, running down her body in rivulets.

Aemond ran his tongue over the milk that had dripped from his wife’s rosy nipples and delighted in the sweetened taste.

“Come Brother-You have one, I’ll have the other” growled Aemond.

Aegon leaned forward and slowly ran his tongue over one of Vaeryna’s nipples, his lips wrapping around the stiff peak.

His cock throbbed as Vaeryna writhed against the bed.

“A-Aemond, A-Aegon” gasped Vaeryna.

“Hm” moaned Aemond as he continued to lick and suck his wife’s breast.

Aemond looked over at Aegon as they indulged themselves in worshipping Vaeryna’s breasts, their gaze locked upon one another.

Suddenly Aemond reached around the back of his brothers head and took hold of his roughly shorn silver tresses, pulling him away from Vaeryna and seizing his lips in a brutal kiss.

Aegon could taste the mother’s milk upon his brothers tongue, and it drove him wild.

“Hm”

Aegon moaned at Aemonds rumbling hum, it used to annoy him whenever he did that during conversation but in this circumstance, it was fucking amazing.

Suddenly Vaeryna let out an adorable squeak, Aegon looked and noticed that Aemond had his fingers inside her cunny.

“You should touch her too” exclaimed Aemond as his mouth once again descended onto one of Vaeryna’s breasts.

Never one to back down, Aegon gentle ran his hand down Vaeryna’s body and had to recite some stupid faith of the seven prayer to stop himself from coming when he felt how wet she was.

“I-Is she always-“

“-This wet?-Hm-yes issa byka zaldrīzes, so sensitive” muttered Aemond (My little dragon).

“A-Aegon-please” whined Vaeryna as their eyes connected.

“Patience issa dōna nūmio” replied Aegon as his fingers began teasing her slick folds (My sweet pearl).

Aegon watched with awed fascination as Aemond expertly fingered his wife, the way he used his fingers and thumb in tandem with one another to tease her little pearl.

Aegon knew Vaeryna was close to her peak, he could feel her cunny fluttering around the finger he had inside her.

However, Aemond removed his hand and sat back on the bed, his singular amethyst eye darkened with lust as he pressed his fingers against Aegon’s mouth.

“Taste her” growled Aemond.

“Delicious” muttered Aegon as he swirled his tongue around Aemond’s fingers.

Vaeryna clearly not happy at being denied her peak, began to whine.

“Aemond-“

“-Now ābrazȳrys. I want you to sit on my face, whilst my brother sucks my cock” exclaimed Aemond (Wife).

Even though he was the younger of the three, Aemond had a naturally dominant personality, and if he wanted to be in control then Aegon was more than happy to submit.

Aemond reclined on the bed and smirked, his cock standing hard. Aegon’s mouth was watering just looking at it, his brother the absolute twat had truly been blessed.

The largest dragon in the world and a cock to match-no wonder he was so smug all of the time.

Vaeryna hovered above Aemond’s face, her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty cock sleeve" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Vaeryna’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaeryna her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it Issa dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES. It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaeryna.

“FUCK” groaned Aemond as he felt Aegon’s mouth around his cock.

Devouring his wife’s sweet cunny as she sat on his face was one thing, but to do it whilst his brother sucked his cock was other worldly.

Admittedly it was different from Vaeryna she was soft and patient, always teasing him to the brink of madness, whilst Aegon was firm and unyielding.

He enjoyed the feeling of Aegon’s mouth around his cockhead, his tongue teasing his slit, as the salvia dripping down his shaft.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaeryna, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaeryna "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“T-That’s it, fuck-Aegon” breathed Aemond, as his brother wrapped a hand around his cock and began to move in sync with his mouth.

“Oh" whimpered Vaeryna; her chest heaving as she began to roll her hips against him.

“That’s it baby, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond, thrusting his own hips.

Vaeryna was giving off a slew of loud swear words, moans, and pleas, that anyone passing the King's chambers would surely hear as Aemond’s nose bumped repeatedly against her pearl.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby, come for daddy” moaned Aemond.

Finally, he felt Vaeryna’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Vaeryna’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife’s centre as she came.

After a few minutes, Vaeryna moved off Aemond’s face and flopped down onto the bed beside him.

Vaeryna moaned quietly as she caught sight of Aegon sucking Aemond’s cock, she could feel herself getting wet again, she watched as Aemond placed his hand on the back of his brother’s head, forcing him to take more of his cock inside his mouth.

Suddenly a naughty thought entered into Vaeryna's head and before Aemond could stop her, she bent down and began running her tongue along the part of his cock that wasn't in Aegon's mouth.

"SEVEN HELLS" roared Aemond.

Aegon and Vaeryna shared a knowing look before they both began to take it turns slowly sucking Aemond's cock, taking him the brink only to stop.

"V-Vaeryna" groaned Aemond, he needed her, he needed her now.

"Yes my love"

“Come here” rasped Aemond, his chin still shining with her slick.

Vaeryna leaned forward and wiped her tongue across her husbands bottom lip before taking it in between her teeth and biting down gently.

“You naughty girl” muttered Aemond as he surged forward and pressed a kiss to his wife’s sumptuous soft lips.

One hand tangled in his brothers hair and the other in his wife’s.

“A-Aegon-enough-stop” groaned Aemond his hips stuttering, he could feel the urge to come building in his abdomen.

“Spoil sport” muttered Aegon as he wiped the spit from the corners of his mouth.

“I want to spill my seed inside my wife’s cunny”.

“W-Where will-“ asked Aegon looking around awkwardly.

“I want you to spill your seed inside me as well” whispered Vaeryna.

Aemond was sure his brother was about to blow his load right there, judging from the way his eyes rolled back into his head at every filthy word his wife spoke.

Vaeryna moved over Aemond’s body, her slick folds rubbing against his cock.

Gods he was so hard, it was bordering on painful.

Seizing his wife’s hips, Aemond surged up and ploughed his hard cock into Vaeryna’s soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" screamed Vaeryna.

"Gods. You feel so good" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Vaeryna, her tone bordering on desperate as she rolled her hips against his.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

“Aegon-please” breathed Vaeryna as she felt his warm chest press against her back, his hands gently caressing her sides as he pressed a series of gentle kisses along the back of her neck.

“Do you want his cock as well Issa perzys?” asked Aemond, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips (My fire).

“Y-Yes, please. I want it-I want you both inside me” moaned Vaeryna.

“I’ll need to prepare you” whispered Aegon as he took hold of the small bottle of oil that Aemond discreetly pressed into his hand.

Aegon uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount of the oil onto his palm, spreading it over his fingers.

After discarding the bottle somewhere on the bed, Aegon reached down to her arse.

“Hm-yes, I-like it” whined Vaeryna, biting her lip.

“Be patient” urged Aemond as Vaeryna began to squirm against him.

Vaeryna gasped as she felt Aegon’s finger on her little rosette, and it felt so naughty, it was good.

“Yes, or no?” asked Aegon.

Vaeryna didn't even have to think.

“Yes, Aegon” moaned Vaeryna as he slowly inserted his finger into her body.

He worked in silence for a while, easing his finger in and out of her arse until she could take it easily.

Aemond began teasing her pearl with his fingers, his cock throbbing inside her.

Pulling out, Aegon added a second finger and brushed both around her hole.

“Yes, or no?” Aegon asked again.

“Aegon. I want you take my arse, I want both of you to fuck me until I scream out your names. I need to come, please. Do not deprive me any longer” begged Vaeryna.

Aegon let out a breath of air, but no words. Silently, he breached her arse once more.

Vaeryna screamed, and Aegon panicked. He started to back his fingers out, but she begged “No, no, oh god it feels so fucking good I can barely stand it”.

Aegon continued to work his way into her tight space, his cock was like stone, and needed nothing more than the odd stroke to keep him there. When his fingers were fully inside her, he put his lips to her ear again.

“I'm going to take your arse” whispered Aegon, pumping his fingers slowly in and out.

“Yes” gasped Vaeryna as she pushed against Aegon’s talented finger’s.

“I'm going to breach your arse with my cock and fill you all the way up. It's going to feel so good, love, I can't wait for you to come around Aemond’s cock in your sweet cunt, whilst my cock shoved in your arse”

Vaeryna’s teeth were gritted, and she grunted low in her throat each time his fingers surged in.

“Yes” moaned Vaeryna loudly. Aegon slapped her buttock, and she wailed again.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir” moaned Vaeryna. She was pushing back against his hand, so he spread his fingers inside her, accommodating her to his size. At last, she was ready for him.

Aegon pressed the head of his cock to the entrance of her arse, and Vaeryna moaned in need, he pushed through her entrance and past her sphincter muscle, swearing loudly as it gripped him unbelievably tight.

“Oh gods. Oh yes” moaned Vaeryna, flinging her head back. Aegon eased himself slowly into her tight anal passage, trying not to pass out from the sheer fucking bliss of it.  

Eventually, Vaeryna took his entire cock.

The three of them remained unmoving as Vaeryna got used to having both Aemond and Aegon inside her.

“I-I’m ready” whispered Vaeryna.

“We’ll go as slow-” muttered Aemond as he placed his hands on his wife’s hips.

“-as you want” said Aegon as he placed his hands on top of Aemonds and entwined their fingers together.

“OH-MY-“ shrieked Vaeryna as both Aegon and Aemond began to move, finding their rhythm and thrusting gently.

Both brothers moving in tandem with one another, a slow sensual pace, that drove Vaeryna to the brink of insanity.

"Faster, please" begged Vaeryna.

"Patience, Issa zaldrīzes. This is your first time doing this with both of us" chided Aemond (My dragon).

“I-I’ve taken you there before” admitted Vaeryna softly.

“Fuck” groaned Aegon at Vaeryna’s admission.

“I know but you’ve never taken us both at the same time” replied Aemond as he gave a quick deep thrust.

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Vaeryna.

Her hands ran along his arms, over his shoulders and down his chest, digging her nails into his pale skin.

“Gods, Vaeryna" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

“Y-Yes, fuck” muttered Aegon.

"Fuck me, Aemond" whispered Vaeryna "Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me, filling me up. Give me what I need. Make me scream, make me come. Give me your seed. I want it”.

Aemond knew exactly what Vaeryna was doing, and he couldn’t help himself.

Vaeryna wanted faster and he was going much faster now; so much for having the control in the situation. His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips.

“Fuck Aemond” groaned Aegon, the force of his brother’s thrusts moving Vaeryna on his cock.

“A-AEGON-“ screamed Vaeryna as she reached behind her and wrapped her hands around the back of his head.

She craned her neck back and dragged Aegon’s head towards her, she wanted to feel his lips on hers as she took both of their cocks.

Aegon released his grip on Aemonds hands and slowly caressed her skin until he reached her breasts, both hands squeezing them as his tongue moved against hers, his cock thrusting inside her.

Aemond watched with a hooded gaze as his wife kissed his brother, he thought he would feel jealous knowing that his wife was finding pleasure with someone who wasn’t him, but in truth he found it incredibly hot.

Both of them were cock deep inside her and it felt glorious, it was just a shame they’d waited so long to do this.

“Faster-I can take it-I can take both of you-please” stammered Vaeryna as she released Aegon’s hair from her grip.

Aemond and Aegon shared a quick glance before nodding.

Now they were both quickly thrusting in and out, the force of their combined movements shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Vaeryna was meeting them thrust for thrust.

“Aemond-Aegon! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaeryna; not caring if anyone could hear them.

Vaeryna always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her amethyst eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Vaeryna clamped down around Aemond’s cock so hard he could hardly move. That, combined with how glorious Vaeryna looked, pushed Aemond over the edge, the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“God. Vaeryna” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed inside his wife’s wet heat.

Aegon followed not long after, his cock twitching as he spilled inside Vaeryna, his head falling to her shoulder.

His chest heaving with every breath he took; he had never come so hard in his life.

“Aegon-“ whispered Vaeryna as he gently pulled his softened cock from her.

“You were so good” replied Aegon as he laid on the bed next to Aemond.

“Hm-so perfect for us” said Aemond as he also pulled his cock from Vaeryna and moved over so she could lay in between the brothers.

Their sweaty bodies pressed against one another as they came down from their high.

Aegon opened his eyes at the feeling of the bed shifting.

“Did you really think that we were finished brother-I want you to clean my seed from wife’s cunny as I fuck you” growled Aemond.

“Aemond” gasped Aegon as his brother flipped him onto his stomach.

“Be a good boy and clean up the mess I’ve made” cooed Aemond as he reached for the bottle of oil.

“How are you so hard this quickly” exclaimed Aegon not sure whether he should be impressed or not.

“It’s a gift” replied Aemond smirking as a generous amount of oil coated his fingers.

Aemond manoeuvred Aegon so he was all on all fours and began to prepare him for his cock.

Aegon groaned as felt Aemond’s fingers breaching him, obviously this wasn’t his first experience with a man, but Aemond was significantly larger than anyone he’d taken before.

“Do not neglect my wife, Lēkia” said Aemond (Brother).

Aegon moved in between Vaeryna’s open legs and moaned as he saw the seed leaking from her.

“Go head and clean her up-“ ordered Aemond as he coated his cock with oil.

Aegon grunted with mild discomfort as he felt his brother’s fingers withdrawing from him, only to be replaced with his cock.

“Fuck-Aemond” groaned Aegon, closing his eyes as he took every inch of his brother.

“Do not leave my wife wanting-or I will punish you” snarled Aemond, as he gave a rough deep thrust.

“Yes-“ groaned Aegon as he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Vaeryna’s cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into her core with his tongue, in and out.

Vaeryna clutched at his head with one hand, her other hand grasped at the sheets.

Aemond withdrew from Aegon and surged forward again, setting a brutal pace as he watched his brother lick the seed from his wife’s cunny.

Aegon lashed hard at Vaeryna’s pearl with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard and fast, alternating between her bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt, the taste of Aemond’s seed mixed with her delicious ambrosia.

Vaeryna ground down on Aegon, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

However, she shoved Aegon’s face away from her and smiled widely.

“I want you inside me” whispered Vaeryna as she shimmied slightly down the bed.

“Go on brother-give her what she wants” exclaimed Aemond as he thrust forward, his hips slapping against Aegon’s.

Aegon slid into Vaeryna immediately, aided by how wet and open she was for him. He sighed into the crook of Vaeryna’s neck, slowly building up the pace. 

The feeling of Aemond inside him and Vaeryna around him was heavenly.

Initially when he had pulled off his tunic and breeches, he was apprehensive as to what Vaeryna and Aemond would make of the burn scars that covered the majority of the lower half of his body, especially his cock, it still functioned as normal, and he could produce seed, but he wasn’t fertile, not that he minded anyway.

But Vaeryna and Aemond had still welcomed him into their relationship, and it made his heart soar, and the way Vaeryna had gently kissed everyone of his scars made him want to cry with happiness.

Vaeryna’s tits bounced with each thrust, as Aegon was driven into her by the force of Aemond’s thrusts.

Vaeryna moaned and cried beneath Aegon, his pelvis rubbing against her swollen bud with each thrust he gave.

“You going to come? I can feel you gripping me” huffed Aegon, watching his scarred length disappear into her wet folds.

“Please” wailed Vaeryna, her hands gripping the sheets.

“That’s it-come for us baby” moaned Aemond, his pace relentless, the sweat dripping down his chest.

Aegon took pity and slid a hand down to Vaeryna’s pearl, rolling it in time with his thrusts,

“Come on then. Cum on my cock”

It took four sharp thrusts before Vaeryna screwed her eyes shut, as she came with an earth-shattering cry.

Aegon fucked her through it, his hips and hand not once still until Vaeryna was a sobbing and slick mess beneath him.

“Give him another Issa jorrāelagon” grunted Aemond (My love).

“Fuck-Aemond” moaned Aegon, his face pressed into the crook of Vaeryna’s neck.

“That’s it-fucking take it” snarled Aemond.

Vaeryna squirmed to get away from Aegon, but it was no use, and Aegon ripped yet another peak from her with precision.

Vaeryna’s head lulling to the side tiredly as her body was thrust up the bed with the combined force of Aegon and Aemond’s thrusts.

Vaeryna laid limply beneath him as he continued to fuck her.

“Fuck-going fill your cunny” moaned Aegon.

Vaeryna nodded weakly as Aegon continued to thrust his length into her.

“You want me to fill up this pretty cunny with my seed?”

Vaeryna nodded her head again, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as Aegon continued to rut into her.

Vaeryna’s brain went blank as ecstasy shot through it.

Aemond was close as well, his thrusts had grown sloppy and uncoordinated.

Vaeryna heard Aegon’s loud groan as he spilled his seed deep within her.

Then nothing as darkness embraced her.

It took a while for Vaeryna come back to herself, and when she did she was in Aemond’s arms, with Aegon pressed behind her.

She felt warm, safe, and completely exhausted. Vaeryna shifted to look up at her husband, watching as his eye opened to look down at her.

“So good you blacked out?” mused Aemond softly, watching as his wife weakly smiled at him, nuzzling into his chest, the sparse hairs tickling her nose.

“D-Did you finish?” asked Vaeryna, craning her neck to look at her husband.

“Yes I did-“

“-All over my back the dirty bastard” retorted Aegon.

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time” snarked Aemond.

“I need moontea” whispered Vaeryna.

“There’s a cup waiting, freshly brewed” said Aegon pointing to the silver trap on the table.

“H-How long was I blacked out?” wondered Vaeryna.

“A while-“ mused Aegon as he climbed out of bed and picked up the cup of moontea.

“Thank you” replied Vaeryna as she took the cup from Aegon and drank the concoction in one gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste.

“Don’t mention it-“ said Aegon as he pulled on his small clothes and went to pour himself some wine.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond quietly.

“I’m fine, are you ok?”

“I’m ok, gaomagon ao gīmigon skorkydoso olvie avy jorrāelan?” replied Aemond (Do you know how much I love you?).

“I’m not sure, mayhaps you should remind me” teased Vaeryna.

“Tolī than glaeson, ao issi se ōños isse issa zōbrie” (More than life, you are the light in my darkness).

“In that case, avy jorrāelan, issa idaña perzys” replied Vaeryna (I love you, my twin flame).

Aemond hummed contentedly as he drew Vaeryna back into his arms and held her close.

“You do realise these are my chambers” groused Aegon as he climbed back on the bed.

“-Your point?” asked Aemond.

“After sex I like to sleep”.

“So, do I” whispered Vaeryna as she took Aegon’s hand and pulled him closer, her eyes closing as he snuggled behind her.

Soon Vaeryna fell asleep, safely ensconced between her two silver dragons.

“What’s wrong with you?” muttered Aemond.

“I wasn’t sure what this would mean-you know for us now that-“

“-We’ve fucked you mean?” said Aemond quietly.

“Well, yes. It’s not everyday you fuck a wife at the same time as her husband, and then fuck the wife as the husband fucks you” mused Aegon.

“Like you didn’t enjoy it” quipped Aemond.

“Oh, I thoroughly enjoyed it-mayhaps next time you’ll let me fuck you”.

“Absolutely not-I’m a top” replied Aemond, looking down at Vaeryna to check that she was still asleep.

“Nothing wrong with being a bottom, you should give it a try”.

“Do you want a slap?” asked Aemond frowning.

“I might like it-daddy” said Aegon smirking.

“Your incorrigible” muttered Aemond shaking his head.

“So, I guess you and Vaeryna discussed boundaries prior to her arrival earlier on?”

“Yes-we agreed to have you together, no separate encounters, it’s both of us or nothing” replied Aemond.

“Sounds-reasonable”.

“Hm, of course this will not be an everyday occurrence, as I still wish to have my wife to myself at times” said Aemond sternly.

“Of course-so how often, will we you know-“ mused Aegon.

“Once a month if you’re a good boy-“

“-And if I’m not?” mused Aegon curiously.

“I’ll tie you to a chair and make you watch as I fuck Vaeryna” said Aemond smugly.

“Sounds delightful-anyway I must say your wife is a fantastic fuck, are you sure she was a maid when you first laid with her”.

“Forget the slap-I will slit your throat if you carry on” groused Aemond shifting slight as Vaeryna moved in her sleep.

“I was joking-not about the fantastic fuck thing though, even your performance was very satisfying brother”.

“Are we really going lay here and discuss who satisfied who the most or who’s the best fuck because that’s just childish and at any rate-I’m the best” said Aemond as he laid down on the bed.

“I’ve had more practice than you” argued Aegon.

“Having more partners than you’ve had hot dinners doesn’t mean your good in bed. I’ve only had sex with three-“

“-Four people. I’m counted amongst that number now” said Aegon smiling.

“You’ll never counted amongst it again if you don’t shut your mouth” snapped Aemond.

“-Stop talking, need sleep” muttered Vaeryna.

“Shh-it’s ok, go back to sleep dōna hāedar” whispered Aemond (Sweet girl).

“Jorrāelagon ao issa zaldrīzes” mumbled Vaeryna (Love you my dragon).

“Is she aware she drools in her sleep?” asked Aegon.

“Shut the fuck up” hissed Aemond as he closed his eye.

Aegon simply smiled and snuggled against Vaeryna who sighed in her sleep, he placed his hand on her waist and jumped slightly when he felt Aemond’s fingers touch his own.

“Next time-” muttered Aegon.

“-Next time” replied Aemond softly.

[perpetualcontrolleddrowning]

Bingyuan Oneshot

dreaming you the same sun in a different place

JRaylin441

Summary:

[Activating: Bonus Chapter – In Another Life]

[We notice that you are searching for someone. Would you like to accept the bonus chapter mission In Another Life in order to reunite with User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu?]

Shen Qingqiu disappears. Luo Binghe isn't going to let that stand.

Written for a Gotcha for Gaza prompt "Luo Binghe sucking Shen Yuan's dick (any dynamic)" from an anonymous prompter

Content Warnings: Subspace, amnesia, comphet, internalized homophobia, little bit of gray areas for consent (due to the last three things mentioned, as well as the system explicitly wanting them to have sex this way, more details in the final notes), manipulation (typical bingmei levels), undernegotiated kink, homelessness (not discussed in detail), dietary limitations, vague allusions to chronic pain, typical negative self-talk for binghe. As always, I have done my best to think of everything I should warn for but, if you think of something else, please let me know and I'll be quick to add it!

Read it on AO3 here (x)

Shizun disappears from the bamboo cottage in the middle of Luo Binghe's inner palace in the demon realm. More than that, he disappears from within Luo Binghe's arms, as they sleep curled around each other.

Luo Binghe had sworn that no harm would come to Shizun, now that they were married. The world had shown again and again that this was a promise that would be difficult for Luo Binghe to keep. For it to happen, at the very heart of his home, is a failure Luo Binghe cannot bear to look at for too long. He worked for so many years, to finally have the kind of power that would make it impossible to take the people he loves from him, and yet even this is not enough.

No cultivator or demon should have been able to access that room without Luo Binghe's knowledge. There is no trace of energy or invasive presence. Shizun was there, and then he was not, and Luo Binghe does not wake up until one of his arms falls through the space left behind, to hit the sheets below.

He rises from his bed in a fury and tears the palace apart in his search for Shizun. When that does not yield any result, he scours the cultivation sects, the Northern Palace, the hiding places of any demonic clans that may have hinted at some level of dissatisfaction with his rule.

When two days of searching still turn up nothing, Luo Binghe returns to his palace and calls together the court. What use is all the power he has amassed if he cannot wield it in a time like this? He paces and snarls and threatens each member of the court until they understand exactly how tortuously they will perish should his shizun not be found within the day.

And then, when he stops by his room (not to sleep - the combination of demonic energy and qi can be used to keep moving for days longer before he would need to sleep) to remove the trappings of court for more effective travel wear, a ghostly glowing blue box appears before his eyes.

[Activating: Bonus Chapter – In Another Life]

[Welcome to the System. We hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincerest wish that, during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance with your heart’s wish, learn more about your love interest. We hope you enjoy.]

[We notice that you are searching for someone. Would you like to accept the bonus chapter mission In Another Life?]

Luo Binghe reacts without thought, Xin Mo slicing through the glowing shape in a shatter of small colored boxes that immediately reform behind it. Insubstantial, then. Luo Binghe has fought enemies like this before, easily able to reform from a slashing hit. He jabs Xin Mo into the center of it, channeling his demonic qi though it until the blade is red hot and boiling the air around it. The box shimmers but stays present.

A heart demon. A qi deviation. A dreamscape.

He takes out each technique he has developed over the past decade of relentless attacks, and unleashes the full force of his martial prowess on this floating box, and still it remains. Unaffected and bright. Almost smug in the way that it follows his line of sight.

Luo Binghe does not have time for something like this. He needs to find Shizun. The box has not changed or made any move to attack. Luo Binghe checks the flow of his qi, both spiritual and demonic, but there is no tangible blip or drain.

Fine. If a floating box wants to follow him around, it can do that. He can see through it enough to continue on his way and Luo Binghe has larger concerns than this.

He moves the concern of the blue glowing box to the back of his mind and carries on with his earlier mission. Changing into more appropriate clothing for long travel and battle. He mounts Xin Mo right there in the center of his quarters and flies out through the large open pavilion at the back of his inner palace.

It is another several hours of relentless searching, in concentric loops out from his starting place. He reaches for his Heavenly Demon blood, which has never cut him off from Shizun since the moment he first made him consume it, but it remains just as silent as it has since he woke up with his arms empty.

It is getting hard to breathe, the way that bands of steel tension seem to be tightening around his ribs, pulling in close to his lungs and making each exhale rasp on its way out.

This happens sometimes. Used to happen all the time, back when he first joined the Cang Qiong sect, and then again when he was deep in the Endless Abyss. He can push through it, control his own blood to push his lungs to their full capacity, breathe deep and let it out. It is a simple matter of mental weakness, feeling overwhelmed by all the danger that seems to dog his steps. It is unhelpful and it changes nothing.

Luo Binghe forces his lungs open, breathes as best as he can, refocuses on his frantic reaching for any response from the blood he knows courses through his husband's veins.

He hasn't needed the reassurance of it since all the business with Maigu Ridge. Shizun has barely left his side since that moment, even more so once they shared a drink and took their bows together.

Luo Binghe knows that he fed his blood to Shizun in a moment of frantic weakness. He knows that it upset Shizun. That happened back in those horrible weeks of miscommunication and hurt feelings. He had just wanted to make it so that he could heal Shizun. He had just wanted to make it so that he would always know where Shizun was. He had just wanted to make it so that he could never be thrown away again.

It was a violation of his privacy and crossed so many of those boundaries that Shizun insists are so important. More than that, it scared him. That is the part that Luo Binghe can't abide by, in his memory. He hadn't meant to scare Shizun and he wishes it had happened differently.

Still, the blood parasites had been a blessing, while Shizun was trapped in the Water Prison and he had been able to check his position while using every scrap of self-control not to crawl on hands and knees to his side and lay his head on his lap, like he might have been able to as a young disciple.

They had been a blessing, while Shizun was dead for those long, empty years and Luo Binghe had laid beside him every night, dedicated himself to memorizing every cun of his body and repairing it. Doing everything he could to remind himself that the body was still here. The blood was still able to flow. There was still hope of bringing his soul back.

They had been a blessing, while he had been undertaking the terrifying and exhilarating honor of learning how to please Shizun as a husband does. The blood parasites had allowed him to guide relaxation, increase pleasure, maintain stamina, long past when a normal human cultivator might have needed to finish. They also allowed him to prevent any long-term pain or consequences, when Luo Binghe was still trying to learn how to channel the desperate hunger that craved under his skin into something loving and good.

He can feel the old, desperate thing at the core of him shaking off its slumber, soothed by the last year of stability but never gone. Shi-zun. Shi-zun. Shi-zun. It beats inside of him, along with his pulse.

He is flying through the air and watching for Shizun and pullingpullingpulling on the blood parasites but nothing is happening.

And then, the blue screen shifts a little, brightens a bit, moves itself back to the center of his vision.

[Activating: Bonus Chapter – In Another Life]

[We notice that you are searching for someone. Would you like to accept the bonus chapter mission In Another Life in order to reunite with User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu?]

Those words, reunite with Shen Qingqiu. It may be a cursed monster, offering a deal, but he has faith that he can defeat any enemy placed before him. He agrees with just a thought, before he has time to consider it for a second further.

One moment, Luo Binghe is flying over the forest on Xin Mo. The next instant, he is standing on a strangely level path next to the scream of metal carriages as they whirl past. The momentum of his flight suddenly interrupted makes him stumble for just a moment.

[The System was successfully activated! Starting C-Points: 100. Please ensure C-Points do not fall below zero, or the System will automatically mete out punishment.]

[You may earn C-Points through completing quests. Current quest: Locate Shen Yuan. Good luck!]

*~*~*

The city Luo Binghe has found himself in is much like any other city. There are pedestrians moving quickly down walkways, large buildings here in the center that grow smaller as you move toward the outskirts. A large city, to be sure, since the towering buildings stretch so far up and out in every direction.

Yes, there are strange carriages that seem to be loudly hurtling past on the road, making it impossible to cross safely on foot. Yes, there are strange magical light fixtures with no visible flame that allow Luo Binghe to see the strange, scandalous fashion the people of this place wear. Yes, he has no idea where he might go to find a map or gather his bearings.

But, Luo Binghe was thrown into the Endless Abyss while still a teenager and emerged stronger than before. Luo Binghe conquered the demon realms and easily could have done the same to the human realms, had he not found something he liked more. Luo Binghe had the best teacher to have ever lived.

All this to say: Luo Binghe may not be familiar with this particular world, but he has been taught for much of his life all the ways to quickly adapt and comport himself with dignity, no matter the situation. This world seems to have its own unique kind of magic, but it is populated with humans, and they can be counted on to respond to certain things in consistent ways.

Luo Binghe spends the next several hours as a man on a mission. He hides away his more demonic features immediately. He finds his way to a building that seems to provide clothing similar to that of the others walking on the street, and Luo Binghe copies what an individual in a painting on the wall seems to be depicting as appropriate fashion. With the speed his cultivation and demonic heritage grant him, it is not difficult to be a thief.

The people who live here speak with an identical dialect to the one that Luo Binghe grew up speaking, even if their word choice seems bizarrely informal and contains strange slang. The first two people he attempts to approach seem to be overwhelmed by his aggressive posture and intense focus, and so Luo Binghe watches those who walk past him, catalogues their interactions, tries again. This time, he is more able to mimic the humble, meek way to approach a stranger on the street, and he is able to pretend to be someone visiting from another town who is in need of guidance. The stranger points him in the direction of something called a Visitors Center, and Luo Binghe has his next goal.

It would be humiliating, lowering himself to this kind of begging, after all that he has done to earn respect. It would be, if it weren't for the fact that he would do things a hundred times more degrading for even the chance to see Shizun smile.

And, right now, his goal is so much more than just his husband's smile.

*~*~*

The woman in charge of what the locals call the Visitors Center appears to think Luo Binghe is some kind of incompetent stranger in need of coddling and gentle guidance like a child. Her soft touches and slow speech grate on him, but he grits his teeth and pushes through it. He does not know what he is doing in this world, nor how to begin to locate his husband within it. The blood parasites still are not working, and so he will need to learn the methods by which a normal human locates another in a city like this.

He needs her help. This is the kind of help she is offering, and he will take what is on the table if it brings him even a step closer to where his husband is. The mysterious System seems confident that Shizun is hidden within this strange world, and that's the only lead he has so far. It says that the next step is to locate someone called Shen Yuan.

So. He will sit at the chair she has pulled over for him. He will fill out the paperwork with her delicate hand resting on his shoulder. He will grin and bear the way that she keeps talking so loudly and so slowly and so directly in his ear, as if he isn't the emperor of an entire demon realm. The man who could have united the two realms. Could have ruled over both. Could have destroyed the world.

She provides him with a map of the area, circles a few locations that she says could be helpful when looking for more resources. She offers him something to drink which turns out to be water with a strange chemical taste, from some kind of sealed, flimsy, transparent container. She asks him if he has any relatives that she can put him in touch with.

And, finally, there's a question that might actually help them get somewhere.

"My husband," he says, "Shen Qingqiu." She starts at that, and then shakes her head as if brushing off an errant thought.

"You have the wrong word," she emphasizes, each word taking her three times as long to say as it should. "Do you mean your wife's brother?" Luo Binghe does not know what he has done to convince this woman that he does not know this language or that he is some kind of idiot. He would let it stand, but he cannot let someone brush off his Shizun like that.

"No, my husband." He wants to slow his speech down too, mock her to her face, rip out her throat for daring to make this take a moment longer than it needs to.

"Okay," she says, but with the tone of someone who is choosing to let someone think they are right when they know for certain that they are wrong. This is already longer than Luo Binghe wanted to spend without being reunited with his reason for existence. He was trying to do this the normal way, the conventional way, because sometimes that is the fastest way to get what you want.

The woman behind the counter works much faster with the long and vicious edge of a blade held to her throat.

"You will tell me where I can find Shen Qingqiu," and Luo Binghe's voice is the sleek, friendly threat that identifies him at his most dangerous. She does not use that condescending, bright tone anymore. In fact, she does not speak at all, making her way over to the glowing contraption and shaking beneath his grasp. Good. She understands the gravity of the situation and just how quickly Luo Binghe would kill her to get what he wants.

She explains that there are multiple people in this city with that name. Luo Binghe makes his displeasure clear enough that she provides papers with neat, staggeringly regular characters on them with a list of locations for each one.

He could leave it at that. But, well, Luo Binghe has always been paranoid and overcautious. His perfect husband always talks of Luo Binghe's intelligence. When he doesn't think Luo Binghe can hear him from the other room, Shizun will talk to himself about Luo Binghe being the best person in the world at solving puzzles and interpreting information. He likes to talk about something called an "eye queue" at the same time as all of that.

The truth is that Luo Binghe has always felt somewhat smart, but more than that is his burning and unrelenting desire to follow a single goal. He has always found himself uniquely able to push past any barrier or discomfort in order to get what he wants. So, if what he wants happens to be his husband's love and safety, he could see how that might look to Shizun as if he is particularly smart in all areas of life.

All this to say: Luo Binghe is bending every single ounce of his focus and will and eye queue to this task.

The strange glowing blue box is a menace and he will never forgive it for being seemingly involved in whatever took Shizun away from him. It is also the only thing that seems to have an idea of what is going on. And, twice now, it has mentioned the name Shen Yuan.

He doesn't have all of the pieces to this puzzle yet, but Shen Yuan seems to be someone important, and he has no desire to come back here.

She provides another several sheets of paper. This seems to be an even more common name in this large city. No matter. He will do whatever needs done.

He does not thank the woman. Rather, he deigns to leave her alive on his way out the door to find his Shizun.

*~*~*

He has been to visit a total of twenty-four places of residence, so far. It took a while to figure out how this strange world organizes itself and denotes location. He had stopped someone else on the street, showed them the nonsense written on a page under the first option for Shen Qingqiu. They had pointed him in the right direction, drawing a simplistic map on a small piece of parchment that they were carrying with them.

Luo Binghe is a single-minded arrow. He had focused all of his logical abilities on understanding how the strange combination of words and numbers could have led him to the location he found himself at. It still took one more helpful stranger before he felt truly confident trying it for himself. Beyond a few complications, such as the first time he came across the secondary numbers that come when there are many small residences stacked together like an inn, Luo Binghe has managed to figure out this process quickly.

The first residence he found was occupied, and an elderly man responded to his knocking and call of the name Shen Qingqiu. He did not, however, answer to the title Shizun, nor did he bear any resemblance to Luo Binghe's missing husband. He had turned around and moved on to the next location almost as soon as he had made contact.

Luo Binghe moved through the rest of the list in a similar manner. Some of the Shen Qingqius were not in their home. He would lurk outside for a day or so, waiting to see them come back. Sometimes that worked. Other times, he would move on to the next and come back a few days later to see if anything had changed. On the two occasions where the home had still been empty, Luo Binghe had simply broken into the residence.

Many individuals in this world seemed to be quite fond of keeping incredibly realistic images of themselves and other important people as decorations around their homes, and he was able to quickly confirm that these homes, too, likely did not contain his missing Shizun.

Luo Binghe knows how to live in a world that does not know how to accommodate him. He knows how to carry on for days on end in a search for his Shizun. He knows how to feed himself when he has no currency. When he reaches the end of the list of Shen Qingqius without finding his husband, he turns his attention to the next lead.

Luo Binghe moves to consider the input of this cursed glowing blue box. When he reaches out with his mind and requests an update, similar to how he once communicated with Meng Mo, the System responds.

[Mission issued: In Another Life]

[Current quest: Locate Shen Yuan. Current C-Points: 100.]

[The System is here to provide fast and consistent service. We wish you a swift success.]

And that was the only lead left, so Luo Binghe had started his way down the other list, the one containing all the strangers named Shen Yuan.

It's a very similar experience, going through this list. The same arduous process of crossing off every individual, except this time Luo Binghe has to check with the System rather than his own perception, as he has no idea what it is the System is trying to have him locate in the first place. He assumes that it will alert him, whenever it happens.

In the end, it doesn't actually need to. The blue boxes are infuriating and distracting, and so Luo Binghe has ordered the System to keep them out of his sight unless he specifically requests an update.

When he arrives at this newest residence, there is nothing immediately remarkable. He has learned, at this point, that this is one of the cleaner, more difficult to access, and larger spaces he has been to, which he assumes means that the person living here is wealthier than some of the other Shen Yuans or Shen Qingqius.

Luo Binghe knocks on the door. For a long moment, there is no answer, and he is mentally preparing for his usual approach, scoping out the hallway for the best locations to begin a stakeout without being identified as a suspicious person. Some of these doors have the small, circular magical talismans outside them, which he has learned can be used to view this location from any distance away. Sometimes they even allow for an individual to recall and view this information long after something has occurred. They are fascinating technology that he would like to bring back with him, if possible. They also make his task significantly harder.

The door opens, and a young man is standing on the other side. He has short hair, in the manner that Luo Binghe has learned is typical in this world. He is wearing pants made of soft-looking, drooping fabric that pools on the floor around his feet and seems to have frayed where he steps on it, as he is currently. He has worn house sandals on his feet. His shirt is larger than seems to be the typical style, and a large, bright drawing of a woman with white clothing and long blue hair in two separate tails is splashed across the chest. There are large glass spectacles on his face, something that wasn't unheard of in Luo Binghe's world but seems significantly more common in this strange place.

He is...slight. With wide brown eyes and soft limbs. Most importantly, he is not Luo Binghe's Shizun, so he couldn't care much either way.

"I didn't think I ordered anything," the man says, and he smiles at Luo Binghe like he is trying to invite him in on a shared joke. "But it's pretty easy to lose track these days."

He is holding out his hands, with an expectant look on his face. As if he is waiting for Luo Binghe to put something in them. This is not the first time one of the people he has visited has assumed that he is there to give them something. It must be normal in this world.

Luo Binghe should just turn and walk away, as he has with every house before this. There is something, though, about this particular Shen Yuan, that is making that difficult. Something in the elegant tilt of his wrist as he holds his hands out. Something in the soft way he met Luo Binghe's eyes before making his soft-spoken and self-depreciating joke.

"Shizun?" Luo Binghe asks, because he does not care for even a moment about embarrassing himself when Shizun is on the line. The young man, Shen Yuan, jerks his head back a little bit in surprise. He laughs awkwardly and lifts a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

"Um, no. Do you need help with something? Why are you here?"

He said no, but the uncanny resemblance in movements is becoming more and more overwhelming the longer he speaks. There is something in the way he shifted his head when surprised and scrambling for his bearings. Something about the way that he curled his tongue around his words when he spoke them. It shakes in Luo Binghe's bones, the familiarity of it all.

"Shen Qingqiu." And he demands it this time, stepping assertively toward this Shen Yuan, because something strange is happening here and it has to do with Shizun and he needs to understand it as soon as possible. The young, slight man seems to skitter back a step without even thinking about it.

"Um?" And his voice has gone high and questioning, and it's Shizun. It's him. Luo Binghe knows him. "What the fuck is happening? Are you talking about Proud Immortal Demon Way right now?" Crude language but more and more the certainty is beating along inside Luo Binghe's chest.

He pulls up the System to check, and it bursts into being before his eyes with a small shower of what seems to be colorful paper, that only Luo Binghe is able to perceive.

[Congratulations! System notification: Shen Yuan has been located. Current quest completed, C-Points +50. Current C-Points: 150.]

[Initiating next quest: Even in This World? User Luo Binghe may earn C-Points by increasing positive feelings between himself and Shen Yuan.]

[Good luck!]

He wants to grab it out of the air and crush it between his fists, but he's already tried that and knows it doesn't work. What matters now is that the System told him that this mission would reunite him with Shizun, and now it is telling him he has made progress toward that goal. The man before him has so many of Shizun's mannerisms that it is impossible not to know him.

Luo Binghe does not understand what is going on, but he knows that he cannot leave this place yet.

If this is his Shizun, then he does not seem to recognize his husband. Some kind of memory loss, perhaps. Or maybe some kind of possession.

If this is his Shizun, then Luo Binghe knows him well enough to know that he looks uncomfortable. This is the kind of smile he puts on when he wants Shang-shidi or the sect leader to leave already, and they are not picking up on his blaring hints. Usually, this is the point when his doting husband would step up and happily enforce Shizun's desires.

He can't be sent away. Not yet. He needs a reason to continue this conversation.

He knows his husband.

"Can you help me, please?" Luo Binghe changes his posture, his voice, everything. He softens his stance, looks down, glances back up with eyes limned in tears. His hair is long and slightly unkempt after days of living with other priorities. He looks a little bit like a mess already and, with these changes, he now looks pathetic and worthy of pity as well. It is the sort of thing his husband could never resist, with that tendency to take any undeserving menace under his wing in a blink.

And, sure enough, there it is. The subtle shift in posture, in the crinkling of his eyes, and Shen Yuan is leaning out of the doorway, eager to be helpful. Luo Binghe's heart is going to leap out of his chest and land at his feet. He is going to fall to the ground and cry genuine tears and hold on to his Shizun's ankles until he can never leave him again.

Instead, he fumbles into the pockets that exist on these strange clothes. They are in the pants rather than the sleeves, and are small and somewhat difficult to access, with the way that the thick fabric clings so tightly to the body.

Even so, there are papers in his pocket, containing a list of names and addresses. Some of them he has ripped to shreds with his teeth in frustration. Some he has left behind him on the street. This one, though, remains. It contains only one set of information, for some Shen Qingqiu who is not his Shizun. Luo Binghe removes it from the rest of the papers and holds it gently toward this strange version of his Shizun, making sure that his hand is trembling just a bit with the movement.

"I have never lived in a city this big. I came from far away and have always lived in a small town. I can't seem to find my way to anywhere I need to be." This Shen Yuan is leaning forward even more, opening the door wider to make up for the way that it tilted closed when he pulled away earlier. "Please, I need help finding my mother's friend. She said I could find him here."

Shen Yuan gestures Luo Binghe a little closer, and he easily goes. He doesn't smell like Shizun. He smells like a human who has been sitting in the same room for a long time and has been wearing the same clothes for much of that. Beneath that, his demonic senses are able to detect the more unique, individual scent that every person carries, but even that is nothing like his Shizun. He reaches out with his demonic blood, but again, there is no response from any blood parasites.

"Oh!" Shen Yuan exclaims, looking closer at the paper. "His name is Shen Qingqiu. That's funny. I never really thought of that as a name a normal person might have."

Luo Binghe isn't sure what he could possibly mean by that. He knows for a fact that there are multiple "normal" people with that exact name throughout this city, so he cannot see what the surprise might be. He cocks his head to the side a little bit, because it makes him look young and cute and because his Shizun always tracks the moment with his eyes when he does it. Sometimes he gets headpats out of it too.

This Shen Yuan tracks the moment too, eyes lingering for a second on Luo Binghe's neck, the fall of his curly hair. Luo Binghe watches him take a single, rough swallow (and it's Shizun, this is what Shizun does when he wants Luo Binghe) and then he flushes bright red (something his Shizun would never do and what does that mean) and returns to looking at the paper.

"This is all the way on the other side of the city. How did you end up over here?" He tsks his tongue lightly under his breath and turns in a little circle, seeming to try to get his bearings. The sound cuts through Luo Binghe. There are tears that want to gather in his eyes, because he could swear that this is his Shizun except for the cold way he doesn't seem to recognize his husband. Except for all the little mannerisms that are different. Except for the body that looks nothing like him.

It does, somewhat, now that Shen Yuan is studying the paper and Luo Binghe has more time to study him, look a little bit like the mushroom body that his Shizun inhabited for several weeks. He would never forget any form that his Shizun has taken, and there is something here in the shape of the nose, the color and texture of the hair.

And what does that mean? Is that a clue or a coincidence? There are no answers, and the System has provided no additional information, and Luo Binghe can feel his breath wanting to go unsteady and ragged the way it does when he lets his weakness overwhelm him. He ignores it, uses his blood to force his lungs into a steady pattern. He can't afford to draw attention from this Shen Yuan or show any genuine vulnerability until he is better able to understand what is happening.

"Here. I can draw you a map. Let me just..." Shen Yuan trails off, pats at the pockets of his comfortable, baggy pants, and then starts back toward the inside of his residence. "You can come in. I'll need to get a pen and paper."

And then he leaves to walk further into the house. If this is his husband and his memories have somehow been removed, then Luo Binghe is going to have to have a conversation with him later. Because this is not a safe decision at all. A strange man arrives on your doorstep, larger and stronger than you on every dimension, and you turn around and invite him inside! Luo Binghe could be a robber! This is why he needs to be at Shizun's side at all times. His wonderful husband is far too prone to assuming the best of others.

Luo Binghe follows anyway, because he certainly doesn't mean his husband any harm, and also because he is helpless to do anything but that now that he has finally managed to find his Shizun. Probably.

That quest from the System is still glowing in the corner of his vision, as if Luo Binghe needs any motivation from the System to increase positive feelings here. If this is his husband, and his husband does not remember him, then Luo Binghe has exactly two priorities.

1) Make his husband fall in love with him again and

2) Get his memories back from whoever dared to take the memories of the emperor's consort

The residence is larger than many of the ones that Luo Binghe has broken into in the past few days. There are huge, open windows along entire walls, and he is able to see further across the city than he has from any of his other locations. Able to see just how much space he has covered and been lost in so far.

Shen Yuan is bustling around over in a room that Luo Binghe has learned serves as a kitchen, from a time when he was watching the wife of one of the other Shen Qingqius through the window and waited for him to arrive.

And there.

Hmmm.

There, in the kitchen, are several small little decorations. At first, they do not draw Luo Binghe's eye at all. It feels quite normal to have a sword on display in a home, until he looks closer and sees the shoddy craftsmanship of the sword, the poor quality of the tassels hanging from the end. This is not the sort of weapon that would hold up in a fight and is, therefore, not the sort of weapon one usually sees on display. That, in addition to the fact that he has not seen any other homes with weapons on display like this, and Luo Binghe is starting to feel confused.

He looks around the room, through the doors he can see into from his position at the table. Shen Yuan is puttering around the kitchen with the same harried relaxation that his Shizun has always demonstrated when he's happy to be taking care of another person and is resisting the urge to dote. He's not sure what he would do if Shen Yuan tried to dote on him right now. There is clearly some connection between him and his Shizun, but this is all still very confusing.

And then, Luo Binghe catches sight of something strange through one of the doors that seems to lead into one of the sleeping chambers here. There, mounted on the wall and visible even from the kitchen, seems to be Xin Mo. But, Xin Mo if someone had seen it several times and then attempted to describe it to someone else. And then that person had tried to make it after only a brief apprenticeship in bladesmithing. The balance is clearly all wrong and the decorative metalwork ornamentation on the sheath is laid terribly, so that it would clearly get in the way of movement in battle and catch on robes.

But it is meant to be Xin Mo. The coloring is right. The blade is pitch black where it sticks out of the sheath. Most damningly, Luo Binghe's demonic huadian is traced into the metalwork near the pommel. Which would never be the case. It's tacky, first of all. It's unnecessary, since Xin Mo is always at his side. On top of all that, Xin Mo was not created for him or his bloodline. It's a blade that he discovered buried deep in the Abyss for centuries and forcibly tamed to his will.

Still. It can be no other blade than the scourge of the demonic realms.

Is this a sign, from that terrible System? What would it be doing here in this world? Does Shen Yuan know that it is there?

"That is a strange blade you have," Luo Binghe tentatively posits. He can pass it off as his speaking of the blade on display in the kitchen, if Shen Yuan cannot see this fake Xin Mo for any reason. Instead, he walks over with eager steps, when he sees the direction Luo Binghe is looking. He's got a light in his eyes, the way Shizun always does, if you're watching closely for it, that means you have stumbled upon a topic that he would love to discuss for the foreseeable future.

There are differences too. Primarily, there is a large and excited smile spread across Shen Yuan's face, in a manner that his Shizun would never allow, not even after a year of marriage, without the safety of a fan to hide behind.

The differences are itching under Luo Binghe's skin.

And then, well, there is something significantly more distracting happening.

"Oh!" Shen Yuan is eager. "That's called Xin Mo." How strange, to hear him say the blade's name without the tinge of bitterness and dislike that usually flavors it. Shen Yuan is excited to bursting and is holding himself back from saying more. This is something Luo Binghe is familiar with navigating.

"It's a lovely blade. This one wonders how someone such as Shen Yuan came across something like this."

The moment he's accustomed to, even if there are more expressions on display than ever before. The hesitant side-glance and smile. Luo Binghe leans forward on the table, rests his chin on his hands, clearly gives Shen Yuan his full attention. The brightening of his expression. The unlocking of the flood.

"It was certainly hard to come by, you're right about that! The etsy store that sells those only makes a few a year and they sell out faster than you would believe. I had to keep notifications up for that store for months before I was able to act fast enough."

"What is the significance of this blade, that Shen Yuan dedicated so much effort to acquiring it?"

The twitch of a hand that would generally precede his reaching for a fan. In this strange alter world, Shen Yuan turns his face away and speaks while facing the sword itself.

"Ah, it's from a novel that I read. The main character has a sword like that, and I thought it was pretty cool." The side-glance again, waiting for a sign as to whether this was okay to talk about. Luo Binghe is very good at lying. He keeps his face amiable and interested enough to keep Shen Yuan talking. It is effortless, almost, to take all the turmoil brought about by that statement and hide it behind a smile and soft eyes.

And Shen Yuan is happy to take the encouragement. He lights up, waving his hands through the air, as he starts to describe a book that he claims is poorly written and fails to live up to any of its potential. He discusses his deep interest in what he refers to as "worldbuilding" and the "monster lore." And then, as he continues on, he starts to describe his favorite character. 

Luo Binghe

It's strange, to hear him say that name, specifically. Shen Yuan speaks with the same nuance, the same quirks, as his beloved Shizun. When he comes to this name, though, something is terribly off. There is excitement and interest, sure. Shen Yuan clearly seems to like this character in this book that he is reading. That much is obvious.

But, well, it's still different. When Shizun says his name. When he calls him so sweetly, Binghe, husband, there is so much more in his voice. In that one word, Luo Binghe can hear the fondness that has grown over a decade of shared joys and struggles. He can hear the tentative love and attraction that he agonized to hear for so long.

The way Shen Yuan says it now, by comparison, is so very strange. Affectionate and passionate but distant. A concept rather than a person.

Luo Binghe maintains his mask. He will not let on to anything going through his mind until he is able to gain a better understanding of the situation he has found himself in. By continuing to show interest, he is led further into the residence, into the sleeping quarters.

There are paintings. There are small statues and larger statues. There are pillows. A thousand items, all covered in what is clearly intended to be a representation of Luo Binghe. There are minor inconsistencies, sure, but it is the same as the Xin Mo replica, where the inconsistencies make it even more obvious who this is intended to be.

It's not just Luo Binghe, though. It is Luo Binghe at his worst. At his most monstrous, his most demonic, his most blood-spattered. The version that he tries his hardest not to be again. The version he tries to hide from his Shizun and himself. Something that is not worthy of the love of a peak lord of Cang Qiong sect.

The whole room is set up as something like a shrine to Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan guides him eagerly through each item, discussing just how hard he worked to acquire it. He calls him Luo Binghe, or just Binghe or, sometimes, bafflingly, Bing-ge (and that one grates against the shock of Luo Binghe's mind in the same moment that a flame of curiosity flares in his chest). He recounts the "scene" each image or statue is from, listing off some of the most horrifying and upsetting moments that Luo Binghe has ever lived through as if they are common knowledge. As if Luo Binghe has ever had the courage to mention them to a single living person, even his own husband.

The mask is strong. After all the different things he has lived through, all the terrible things that this Shen Yuan seems perfectly aware of, it is no matter at all for Luo Binghe to smile benignly and ask interested follow up questions, even while his breathing tries to go short again and he can feel the terrible, devastating panic yawning up within him.

This is normally when he would stop whatever he is doing. As a child, he would hide himself away in the woodshed. As a young man, he would search for wherever Shizun was and cook him one of his favorite dishes. As a new emperor, mourning the loss of the love of his life, he would find the newest threat to his power and decimate it with extreme prejudice. More recently, he has been attempting to share some of how he feels with his husband, in an effort to build what Shizun insists is healthy communication.

He cannot go to his Shizun right now. Because the person in front of him is either some strange, alternate version of his husband, someone with all his husband's memories removed, or someone who has taken over parts of his soul and body to use them for some nefarious purpose. No matter what, this is not someone Luo Binghe can trust with healthy communication.

He makes it through the next hour of conversation. It would be cute, if he could be sure that this is his Shizun, the way that he so eagerly talks about this topic. It would be cute, if Shen Yuan was not speaking eagerly and happily about the worst parts of Luo Binghe and the worst things that had ever happened to him. It would be cute, if the conversation did not occasionally swerve in truly incomprehensible directions, such as the amount of sex Luo Binghe tends to have with random women and the staggeringly large harem he has supposedly collected.

He makes it through the conversation with a smile and encouragement. When Shen Yuan finishes explaining every piece of "memorabilia" in his quarters, he remembers what had led them here in the first place and scrambles to return to drawing a map for Luo Binghe to make his way to his friend.

Luo Binghe pouts, flutters his eyelashes again, leans hard on the rapport they have built over the past hour of his listening. Shen Yuan takes very little convincing to join him in a walk across the city. Part of Luo Binghe wants to test him in other ways, try to determine just what is happening here. But, whoever this Shen Yuan is, it is obvious that he is either the best liar Luo Binghe has ever met, or completely oblivious to the larger game at play. And he is so knowledgeable about this strange other-Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe still does not know what is going on, but it must somehow be related to this. What a strange thing to include in the alternate world, otherwise.

He will think about it more, allow the panic to come, once he is on his own again. For now, he will gather all of the information that he can from someone who knows more than him.

"This book," he starts, walking down the streets of the city as though he has lived in this world his whole life, easier to do after the days of searching, "you said that it was called Proud Immortal Demon Way?"

"Yes!" Shen Yuan enthuses. "Why? Were you thinking of reading it yourself? I've already spoiled a lot of it."

"I ask because, when this one arrived at your door, you asked if I was talking to you about that book, I think." He had. Luo Binghe had said the name Shen Qingqiu and Shen Yuan had said are you talking about Proud Immortal Demon Way right now?

"You're right. I completely forgot about that. It's because Shen Qingqiu, your mom's friend, he has the same name as one of the characters in the book."

And then it all goes a little sideways. Shen Yuan talks eagerly and without much need for encouragement, considering all the effort Luo Binghe already put into showing his interest. And that's a good thing, probably, because this is most definitely some kind of clue, but Luo Binghe cannot bring himself to even open his mouth, lest he do something awful like vomit on the pavement or start crying.

Shen Yuan speaks of Shen Qingqiu, the leader of Qing Jing peak, who was Luo Binghe's shizun. Shen Qingqiu, who was "an abusive and pedophilic piece of shit who deserved everything he got." Shen Yuan spits out facts with an impassioned fury that Luo Binghe recognizes from every other time his Shizun has encountered someone truly cruel.

If Luo Binghe thought it was bad before, hearing the details of his time in the Endless Abyss, this is worse. This is terrible.

Shen Yuan talks of Luo Binghe's first years on the Peak, before his Shizun had his qi deviation and changed. The beatings. The bullying. The boiling tea over his head. The woodshed. The blatant blind eye to his misfortune.

There are things from Luo Binghe's life that he does not think about. These are the majority of them. The horrible, awful years when he thought he had finally found a form of security and instead stumbled into relentless exclusion and pain. Rejected for a reason that he had never been able to understand. The pain bestowed by a version of his husband that no longer exists. The ache before something changed.

His husband is different now. Has been since the qi deviation. But that doesn't mean that those things did not happen. Luo Binghe has tried to explain it to himself a thousand different ways over the years. He still does not have a definitive answer.

In this awful, terrible story that Shen Yuan tells, Shizun never changes. Never becomes the kind Shizun that Luo Binghe married. In this awful, terrible story that Shen Yuan tells, Shen Qingqiu still throws his disciple in the Endless Abyss.

In this awful, terrible story that Shen Yuan tells, Luo Binghe rises from the Endless Abyss full of rage and revenge. He hunts down everyone who had ever hurt him and he kills them. The Luo Binghe of this story finds his Shizun. He traps him in the Water Prison of Huan Hua Palace, tortures him for days, cuts off all his limbs and tortures him still.

It's horrifying. Luo Binghe has imagined similar things, sometimes, at his very worst. But he has never acted upon those thoughts. And he has never considered something like that toward his Shizun.

"I recognize these streets." He speaks too abruptly, and it cuts off the end of Shen Yuan's story. Something about Yue Qingyuan and traps. Luo Binghe can't hear it. He can't see or hear anything past the images in his mind. "I know where I am going now, Shen Yuan."

"Oh," there is disappointment and hesitation in Shen Yuan's voice, and Luo Binghe should fix it, but he can't make any more words come out. He is going to cry. "Okay. I guess I'll let you go the rest of the way on your own then?"

He's waiting for an invitation to continue the walk, and it's one that Luo Binghe cannot give.

"Yes, thank you." He gives an aborted salute, realizing halfway through that he hasn't seen anyone do something like that in this world. Shen Yuan laughs a little and gives a sloppy sort of salute as well.

Luo Binghe starts to walk away, but he only gets a few steps before he hears Shen Yuan call out again.

"Wait!" He's taken a step in Luo Binghe's direction, and he needs out of this conversation, but he can never disobey his Shizun. If this is him. "If you need any more help, or if you just want to talk, you're welcome to come by again. You know where to find me and everything."

Is it Shizun? Is it Shizun? Is it Shizun? This Shen Yuan is staring at him with a kind of friendly desperation, his hand outstretched between them, and Luo Binghe would never dare to deny his husband such a simple request as this. Luo Binghe would never dare to grant a request like this from someone other than his husband.

"Thanking Shen Yuan for his help today," he grits out, because it's all gone so far past too much and he doesn't know what will happen next, "but this one must go now."

And he leaves, hustling off down the street, fading into the darkness as quickly and effortlessly as he can, so that Shen Yuan will not be able to follow him any further.

He can see, though, as the slight figure of Shen Yuan turns to make its way back the way they came. Part of him yearns to follow still, but there are too many thoughts shouting in his head.

Shen Qingqiu. His husband. The version of him that had been so cruel and unkind in Luo Binghe's childhood. A version of himself that had tortured him for days on end before finally killing him.

He sits down in the stench and damp of a side alley. It may be a different world, but a gutter is a gutter and Luo Binghe has sat in his fair share of them.

He needs a moment. Luo Binghe is famous for his strategic mind. His husband, in his softer moments, will say that Luo Binghe is the smartest man in the world. There is a puzzle here, and he will figure it out. He will uncover every mystery until he finds the path that will lead him back to his Shizun.

Three worlds. There are three different ones, at least as far as he has uncovered so far. The version of the world that he was born in, where he met his kind Shizun and married him. The version of the world that he is in at this moment, with its strange technology and lack of magic and potential other-world versions of people he knows. The version of his original world as told in a story in this world, full of staggering secrets no one should have access to and staggering inaccuracies that could never be true.

Shizun’s World

Shen Yuan’s World

The Cruel Shizun’s World

What does Luo Binghe know? He knows that Shizun disappeared from out of Shizun’s World. He knows that the floating blue boxes have followed him from one world to the next. The only consistency beside himself.

Shen Yuan is something of a consistency. There are common threads. All the mannerisms of his husband with none of the appearance. Although, again, Shen Yuan's face somewhat resembles that of the mushroom body his Shizun inhabited for a time.

This is edging close to something that Luo Binghe has been toying with for many years. The mystery of the kind Shizun. Because he had known Shen Qingqiu for years and years. He had studied his every mannerism, trying desperately to uncover the secret to keep him from flying into a violent rage. Luo Binghe, when he was younger, had made it his hourly mission to know where Shen Qingqiu was located, what he was doing, what mood he was in, what was happening to him at that time, how it might impact his mood in the future. He needed to do everything he could to know when to avoid him, when to bring him fresh firewood, when to stand still and take it.

It was the only way he could find to escape the whip and the hot tea and the bullying of his sect siblings. Luo Binghe had never gotten to the point that he could track it completely. He was too young. By the end of those first few years, though, he would argue that he could stand in the top five people who knew Shen Qingqiu best. Maybe not his deep secrets and history, but certainly his daily life and how it might influence his moods.

It was easy, then, to notice the shift after the qi deviation. When his Shizun turned distant and quiet and then, several weeks later, truly emerged as the kind Shizun that was so easy to love. That Luo Binghe worked for and admired and desired until he married him and could do it all even more.

Luo Binghe was watching closely. First to avoid danger. Then to try and understand what was happening. Then because he couldn't bring himself to look anywhere else.

He knows that the rest of the sect had concerns about possession. They thought they were so subtle, sneaking past with all their artifacts and tests and secret meetings. It was easy to see, though, from Luo Binghe's place on the very outside of everything.

He knows it was not possession or a curse. The sect would have noticed. He has formed his own theories over the years. His husband has claimed that it was the qi deviation, and that is possible, given the wide-ranging effects that a qi deviation can have. But, even so, what kind of deviation could create such a fundamental and lasting change? It was as if a completely different person was leading the peak. Different mannerisms, word choices, facial expressions, opinions on disciples, punishments, tastes in food. He would sometimes be able to recall a single memory with accurate detail, but the daily minutiae of running a peak, of classes, of past events seemed to have completely escaped him. It was as if a completely separate person had slipped right into the skin of Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe had truly never put much thought in it beyond that. Shizun was someone completely different. That was enough for him. Whoever that man was who had initially been Shen Qingqiu didn't deserve his concern or respect. This kind Shizun, whoever it was, was the person who had taken over, whether through removed memories or through possession or some crack in his meridians deep in the core of who he was. Whatever had happened to that previous version, Luo Binghe wished him good riddance and eternal torture while he was able to live in wedded bliss with the only man who had ever deserved that face.

But, well, if they were looking at a face-stealing situation, then that is suddenly a very relevant thing for Luo Binghe to identify. Because he is in an alternate world and searching for his missing husband. And there is a man here who has the same mannerisms, word choices, and facial expressions as his beloved.

All of this, of course, brings him to the final consideration: the floating blue squares. Luo Binghe does not trust them. The way that they have behaved up until this point has been intentionally vague and cheerful. He does not trust sourceless kindness. That, in addition to the fact that the boxes appeared just as Luo Binghe was at his most desperate and that they offered the one thing he wanted most in the world.

He is not the sort of man to trust something like that.

It cannot be denied that they know more about this situation than him. Even if he does not trust them, he is still willing to use the boxes to get the information he needs.

System, he commands, and the box appears with a cheerful ding that sends a shiver down Luo Binghe's spine.

[The System is here to provide 24-hour service! How can the System help you today?]

I would like an update on my C-Points.

[User Luo Binghe has progressed on quest: Even in This World? You have increased positive feelings with Shen Yuan.]

[Current C-Points: 239]

Dismissed.

[Good luck!]

The blue box disappears but Luo Binghe holds in his satisfied smile despite that, feeling that it could still be watching him at any time.

It had said something earlier, right when Luo Binghe was deciding whether or not to leave his world. We notice that you are searching for someone. Would you like to accept the bonus chapter mission In Another Life in order to reunite with User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu? It had offered this mission as a method to reunite with his Shizun. The missions so far have all been toward his interaction with Shen Yuan.

And those words. User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu. The System refers to Luo Binghe as User Luo Binghe. What does it mean that it refers to his Shizun in this way?

If it's true, that his Shizun is some kind of face-changer, then it would make perfect sense that this Shen Yuan would be his husband, in yet another face.

And, Luo Binghe cannot help but think of the mushroom body, now that he's remembered it. It could be argued, by some, that his husband's mushroom body had been some halfway point between this Shen Yuan and the body he met his husband in.

He had done his own research, over the years, on the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom. His husband is someone who loves the magical flora and fauna in the world, and so Luo Binghe has made it one of his many labors of love to learn all that he can about the things that matter to him, including any magical living thing. When he came to the information on the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom, some of his own curiosity flared as well, to learn more about this mushroom that was able to save and protect the soul of his most beloved person.

Something very interesting about the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom: it is not meant to create a perfect replica of the cultivator's body. Because it is cultivated with regular input of that person's spiritual energy, it should grow a body that matches their spirit. So, perhaps if the cultivator had lost a limb at some point in their life, or gained several scars, those may not transfer over. From the limited experiments done by the person who published that particular manual, the mushroom would grow to reflect the image that the cultivator held of themself, in their heart and spirit. So, if that person had taken on their life as someone with a lost limb, if that is how they saw themself in their innermost spirit, then the mushroom would grow to reflect that.

User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu. A husband whose truest reflection of his soul is some combination of the two.

So, then, maybe not just a face-changer. Not someone who jumps from body to body when it suits them. Rather, someone who has jumped from exactly one other body, or at least only one other body that has had any influence on his husband's image of himself.

User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu. That's how the System defines and knows him.

So, the System has been involved as well, at least enough to have this information. Luo Binghe is not surprised about that. It clearly has the power to move someone between worlds and realms effortlessly, to take Luo Binghe's husband from his very arms at the heart of his palace. Almost a god, then, with the level of its powers.

The fact that the System is defining his husband by the name Shen Yuan first, as well, says something. The idea that his husband was once Shen Yuan and then was designated as Shen Qingqiu, the kind Shizun.

Well, if that is the case, then that means that his husband is still here, in the body of Shen Yuan. And that makes all of this so much easier. Luo Binghe knows how to make his husband like him. How to make him care for him. He's been working toward that for years and years.

The question now, is what it will take for him to regain his Shizun, the one who remembers him and everything they have gone through together. Preferably, to return to the world they have left behind, where they had been in the process of building their life and home together.

The question is whether that is something the System is offering and, more importantly, whether it would be more effective to follow the path the System might offer or to simply destroy it for daring to touch the person Luo Binghe loves most in this world and then to find out how to return on his own. He could certainly do it. If there is one thing that Luo Binghe has learned over the course of his life, it is that there is always a solution to every problem, if he is willing to dedicate every part of himself to finding it.

[Warning! User Luo Binghe should know that there is not magic or spiritual energy in this world and that returning to his original universe is impossible without the assistance of the System.]

How convenient, that the System chooses now to speak up on its own. And how does this lord return to his original universe, then.

[User Luo Binghe must complete the bonus chapter mission In Another Life in order to return memories to Shen Yuan and regain access to his original universe.]

And does that mean that Shen Yuan is this Luo Binghe's husband in this world?

[In order to return to his original universe with his husband, User Luo Binghe must complete the bonus chapter mission In Another Life regarding User Shen Yuan.]

That's not an answer, Luo Binghe points out, in the sing-song tone that so many of his enemies have learned to fear. He allows his qi to flare, black demonic flames flickering between his fingers. While there may not be magic in this world, Luo Binghe still has his birthright.

The flames flicker harmlessly through the bottom of the floating blue box, but that does not mean that Luo Binghe has given up on ever being able to hurt it. There are ways to hurt everything that exists. If this System has taken his Shizun from him and does not do what it takes to help Luo Binghe regain him, he will not stop until he finds what it takes to hurt this System.

[The consciousness that resides with Shen Yuan is the same as the one that existed within the one that User Luo Binghe sees as his husband.]

Thank you, System. Luo Binghe uses the smooth, threatening calm of his diplomatic voice, even here in his own mind.

[The System provides top-quality, 24-hour service!]

The blue box quickly shrinks into a very small blue box before vanishing entirely. How interesting. Luo Binghe can't help but notice that it had appeared on its own after he had begun to consider ways to destroy it and go around its requirements. How interesting, as well, that it had been so quick to answer questions once Luo Binghe had begun to consider its destruction more thoroughly. The System's voice might have remained bright and strangely disjointed, but Luo Binghe knows that timing like that speaks only of fear.

He will play by the rules set forth by the System for now, because that seems to be the most straightforward way to return to his husband's side. Luo Binghe is also more resolved than ever to find a way to destroy the System, now that it has made it so obvious that something like that is possible. After all, why would it be so quick to defend itself if there were no need for defense?

In the meantime, though, how wonderful to know that this Shen Yuan he spent his afternoon with is his Shizun in another body. A small, cute, wonderful body, that shows its feelings and expressions so freely and blushes so easily. To think, that this is his husband's consciousness, in a body that Luo Binghe could lift off the ground without a thought. Such a soft, sweet, spoiled body. One of a precious young lord who has never had to work a day in his life, just as it was always meant to be.

How lovely, to be able to see his Shizun in yet another body and all the alluring and perfect ways his dearest love inhabits that face. How is Luo Binghe meant to do anything other than fall immediately and even more deeply into the love that he swims in every moment of every day?

He will find a way to return tomorrow. This is his dearest Shizun, without the memory of the life they have built together. He will be very angry about that at some point, particularly if he finds that the System is not cooperative in his efforts to return his husband's memories. But, well, for now, it will be sort of fun. Like a game, to make his husband fall back in love with him. Like when they play pretend that they are meeting for the first time, and Luo Binghe is given the chance to see the way his Shizun tries so hard to hide that wonderful warm fondness in his eyes but slowly loses the fight against the tide of it all.

This will be fun.

*~*~*

Luo Binghe arrives at Shen Yuan's door late in the morning. He would have liked to arrive right at dawn, as the sun rose, so he could see its light reflected in the eyes of this new face his husband has chosen.

But, well, Luo Binghe has lived with his beloved Shizun long enough to know the truth of how that would go. His Shizun does not enjoy the light of dawn in the same way that Luo Binghe does. In a world like this, where his hands are soft and uncalloused and his skin is pale as the moon from the way he has hidden away from the sun, Luo Binghe does not believe that his husband would ever be awake for the light of the rising sun, and he will not begin this acquaintance by waking him early. That way does not his Shizun's love lie.

Shen Yuan opens the door after the knocking, and it must still not be late enough, because his staggeringly short hair is mussed and standing up on one side of his face, and there are red marks along his cheek as if he was resting it against his arms in his sleep.

Luo Binghe wants to eat him alive. His Shizun is always beautiful, always desirable. The face that he fell in love with is stunning like a cold creek or a distant mountain. Staggeringly lovely and unreachable. Luo Binghe longs to muss him up, mark his skin, stake his claim in a way that can never be erased. And his Shizun welcomes it, best of all.

This face, though, is something so small and cute that Luo Binghe isn't sure if he wants to swallow him whole or hunt him like prey. He could build him a castle made only of soft and sumptuous things and keep him there so that he never had to feel the touch of a single rough thing, other than the callouses on his own lover's hands. Luo Binghe wants to hold him up against a wall. He wants to destroy this version of his Shizun. Wants to see what it would take to make him cry. Luo Binghe wonders if this is the same kind of passion and impulse that overcomes his husband when looking at him.

"Oh!" Shen Yuan exclaims. “It's you!" And he flushes a little. Luo Binghe wants to lick it off his cheeks. "I realized after you left the other day that I never asked your name."

"This one is Jiang Ruobing," Luo Binghe demurs. After Shizun's long explanation of the character Luo Binghe yesterday, it will likely raise more suspicion for Luo Binghe to suddenly claim that as his name as well. "I made Shen Yuan lunch, as a thank you for his help yesterday."

Luo Binghe did make this lunch, coincidentally including all of the things that his husband most loves to eat. What he does not tell Shizun is that, last night, after he had undergone several revelations, Luo Binghe had broken into an empty restaurant and taken the time to learn how to use their strange tools that decorated the kitchen. He had cheerfully stolen the food, as he has no money to his name and refuses to accept that as an excuse for his Shizun to eat anything less than the best. He had made several iterations before he found himself pleased with his understanding of these heating units and stoves. By the time he finished, the sun was almost coming up, and Luo Binghe had escaped, keeping the food warm with a talisman.

He can see the moment the smell of the food hits Shen Yuan, the way his nostrils flare, eyes widen, gaze flicks down to the box in Luo Binghe's hand.

It is easy to make Shizun happy, once you've made as much of a study of it as Luo Binghe has. Luckily for him, he is already off to something of a fantastic start. His Shizun had always had a soft spot for poor, suffering strays. It is something Luo Binghe had gleefully abused in his childhood and continues to teasingly abuse to this day. It's not just the tears, though that has always been effective, but any hint of what Shizun has quietly referred to as a "tragic backstory" tends to do the trick. Convenient, then, that Luo Binghe had been able to arrive at his doorstep, lost and confused in a large city and requiring his Shizun's guidance.

Beyond that, his Shizun has always been the sort of person to care very deeply and in detail about certain topics, such as the proper way to write a story, all magical flora and fauna, and the many faults of his close friend Shang Qinghua. He enjoys any opportunity to pontificate for hours, teaching or ranting, to a captive audience. Luckily for him, there is little his husband enjoys more than to watch the flush of righteous anger enter his Shizun's eyes and to listen raptly to determine if there is any obstacle he may need to obliterate. Yesterday, Luo Binghe had been trying to conduct an extensive evaluation of both this world and Shen Yuan, to determine his footing. Again, convenient that this resulted in his paying close and careful attention to the words of his Shizun while he talked about something he truly cares about in this universe.

The third approach, that Luo Binghe will now be taking, is to feed Shen Yuan. His husband has always been a picky eater, someone who tends to prefer inedia to consuming any of the food offered by Qing Jing Peak or the restaurants they pass on their travels. This, of course, no longer holds true as soon as it is something his Binghe has cooked.

"Thanks for doing that. You didn't need to." Shen Yuan takes the proffered wooden box of his favorite lunch foods and carries it inside, gesturing for Luo Binghe to follow. Luo Binghe has never been one to walk away from an invitation from his Shizun, and he certainly won't start now.

Back into this strange, comfortable, cluttered space. Luo Binghe makes his way to the table he stood by last time, and Shen Yuan brings over chopsticks and plates before starting to unpack the lunch. He removes one layer of dishes and seems surprised to find more beneath it. In between each new layer that he removes, Shen Yuan sends looks of panicked confusion Luo Binghe's way.

Ah. This again. His husband is no longer used to being spoiled by someone else. While he may have the body and dwelling of someone wealthy, he has clearly never received this kind of aggressive pampering from another person before. Luo Binghe props his elbows on the table and rests his chin on top of his hands, grinning to let just a little bit of fang peek through. He can see in gleeful moment by gleeful moment, Shen Yuan noticing the slightly impolite sprawl of his limbs, just a little impudent in the way his Shizun loves. Shen Yuan scoffing at the flirtatious posture of his hands. Shen Yuan noticing, glancing away, noticing again the sharpness of the tooth and Luo Binghe's smile.

"Will Jiang Ruobing join me in this meal?" Shen Yuan offers, like Luo Binghe had known he would.

"This one couldn't possibly." Luo Binghe tips his head to the side. His Shizun has been known to compare him to a dog, when he does this. Luo Binghe wonders if it's too soon for head pats. "This humble one worked hard to make a meal for Shen Yuan, who was kind enough to help him yesterday." The flush from earlier has crawled its way down from Shen Yuan's cheeks into his neck. Luo Binghe wonders how low it goes. He wants nothing more than to learn every such thing about this new body of his husband's.

"Please, I insist. This is so much food I could never eat it all, and I don't want all your hard work to go to waste."

"Of course, if Shen Yuan insists, how could this one do anything but obey?" Luo Binghe knows that, for many others, he may be coming on too strong. This amount of flirting could be nothing less than utterly shameless! But, he has gone through the process of seducing his husband before, and Luo Binghe doubts a single implication of his words has yet to successfully land.

"Ha," Shen Yuan scoffs uncomfortably while he hands over a set of chopsticks and a plate. Now that he has been invited to partake in the meal, Luo Binghe takes over the distribution of dishes into an artful arrangement on the table between them, making sure that his Shizun's most beloved favorites are closest within his reach. "Where did you say you were travelling here from?"

"I am from a small town far north of here," Luo Binghe replies lightly, because this Shen Yuan has not yet learned that this is how his voice sounds when he is lying. "Shen Yuan would not have heard of it, but the people there are close-knit and old-fashioned."

"That explains," Shen Yuan hesitates in his words, waves his hand in Luo Binghe's general direction, clears his throat. "Never mind." He looks over the spread of food, seeming to need to take another minute to adjust to the sheer amount Luo Binghe has brought with him. "Ah, do you know which of these dishes might have gluten in them?"

"Gluten?” Luo Binghe is caught off guard by the question, as his husband has never shown such curiosity regarding specific ingredients before.

“Wheat, or things made from wheat,” Shen Yuan clarifies, as if that was the concern.

“There would be some in the jiaozi and the sauce of the jing jiang rou si." Luo Binghe gestures toward two of the dishes closest to his husband, ones that he always receives as if they are a treat, no matter how many times Luo Binghe makes them for him. At the motion, there is a sad little smile that appears on Shen Yuan's face.

"Then Jiang Ruobing will have to enjoy those ones for me, I’m afraid." He pushes the plates in Luo Binghe's direction and begins to provide an explanation before Luo Binghe can determine if there is a polite way to obtain one. "I can't have any gluten or it messes me up for at least a day or two. Don't want to bring that kind of energy to your visit."

"Shen Yuan has things he cannot eat?"

His Shizun scoffs a laugh, the kind of noise he's always made when there is a much larger story that he doesn't feel like going into at the time. "Ah, yes, for sure. I can't really have anything with gluten or strong dyes in them. Heavier meat is okay when it's just a little, but I try not to eat that too much either." He huffs a little again and smiles in a self-deprecating way. "No need for you to deprive yourself on my part, though. I would be happy for you to enjoy those things for me."

Luo Binghe had always noticed some of the mannerisms his husband displayed that indicated he may have, at one time, been quite sickly. Without-A-Cure had been one thing, but there were comments he would make about food or rest or pain or treatments or medication that always hinted at previous experience with chronic concerns. This, then, might have been what he was thinking of all those times. Luo Binghe tries not to be too frustrated with himself, because there was no way he could have known this before this moment. But, then, at the same time, what kind of husband is he, to not know the diet of his most beloved person? What if he had accidentally poisoned his Shizun somehow, without even knowing it?

"Begging Shen Yuan's pardon, but would he be willing to tell this lowly one more about the foods that might cause him harm? This one would do much to avoid making such a mistake again."

"You'll be here for a while if you want me to explain it all." Another warning, another quiet, self-loathing smile. His Shizun clearly does not expect Luo Binghe to be interested in this topic, which is going to be a surprise for him, since there is nothing Luo Binghe enjoys more than activities which allow him to both know more about his husband and do a better job taking care of him.

"Anything Shen Yuan is willing to say, this lowly one would be honored to hear." A faint blush again, but still likely in response to the flattery rather than any awareness of devotion or flirtation. Even so, Luo Binghe is able to coax out more information from his Shizun over the next half hour or so, particularly once he has taken a bite of one of the dishes and realized just what kind of delicacies Luo Binghe has on offer. Shen Yuan talks and Luo Binghe listens with every particle of his body, doing everything he can to commit each piece of this to memory. He will not make the same mistake again.

After their meal, Shen Yuan seems to hover in the awkward in-between of not knowing whether Luo Binghe is supposed to leave, or if he wants to invite him to stay. Technically, Luo Binghe brough the food with him, they ate the food, and now they're done. Shizun is clearly feeling a little guilty though, about eating the gift Luo Binghe brought and then immediately sending him on his way. Luo Binghe is doing absolutely nothing to help the situation, and is, in fact, actively making it harder for his dear husband, by continuing to sit at the table and smile guilelessly, as if he is not picking up on any of the subtle feelers Shen Yuan is sending out.

"What was Shen Yuan doing, before this one so rudely interrupted?"

His husband grimaces shame-facedly, the way he always does when someone asks him a question like this, and the true answer is that he has been reading some awful novel that his husband searched high and low to discover for him. His eyes dart toward the square in the other area of this room, so reminiscent of the floating blue box of the System, but stationary. Luo Binghe has seen these things all over this strange world, and it seems they are able to portray visual information from far away.

The one in his Shizun's room seems to be relatively static, showing an image of a forest, greyed out and overlaid with several images of text and information. When Luo Binghe continues to wait patiently, Shizun gestures sort of vaguely in that direction and smiles self-depreciatingly.

"Oh, you know. Mostly just Witcher 3 today." He clears his throat.

"I do not know." Luo Binghe tilts his head again, in that way that his Shizun has always loved, and he watches with growing anticipation as one of his hands twitches just a little before stilling. "Who is Witcher 3?"

"You haven't?" Shen Yuan pauses, searching Luo Binghe's face to see if he is teasing or lying. The good news is that Luo Binghe is telling the complete truth. He has no idea what Witcher 3 is. He likely would have asked this exact same question in the exact same way no matter what, though. He opens his eyes wide, lets his smile turn eager and endeared. He is his husband's precious little white sheep, harmless and curious and ready to learn about something new. "Oh, well, I'm not trying to spend another day telling you about something I'm obsessed with. You don't want to hear about this."

"Please," Luo Binghe lets his bottom lip just out just a little bit. Just enough that it's probably an accident. "I want to hear about everything that interests you. Shen Yuan is one of the most fascinating speakers and best teachers I have ever encountered."

Shen Yuan rears back a little, the blush that had faded over the past meal coming back hard and fast. Good. He's had a long enough break. It is not difficult to make his husband talk about the things that he loves, when he is met with an eager and willing student.

"Ah ha ha," he scratches the back of his head, pulls at the loose-fitting shirt that he is wearing. Luo Binghe might have used every piece of his willpower to avoid letting his eyes linger on the exposed skin of his wrists and arms, if this had been the day before. Today, he sees no reason to pretend as if he wants anything less that to do whatever this man asks and several things he would never think to ask. His husband is certainly not yet at a place where that explanation will even enter into his mind. Luo Binghe does not have to worry about getting ahead of himself. "Well, I could explain it to you?" He gestures again in the direction of the box, and Luo Binghe perks up, jumping eagerly to his feet and not allowing even a second for his Shizun to doubt his offer or take it back.

Shizun guides him over to the incredibly clean and plush sofa and Luo Binghe settles in quite a bit closer than would be appropriate in his world. From the people he has observed here, this is too close here as well.

And then, over the next few hours, his wonderful husband tells him another story. This time, he speaks of a fierce warrior who travels the realm and fights terrifying monsters. He speaks quite in depth about the monsters. He also speaks in depth about the many women who flock to this character, Geralt, and all the ways that he has gained and lost his power and reputation over the course of his unnaturally long life. Shen Yuan speaks in general terms at first, but he becomes too enthusiastic in his discussion of the various monsters and reaches into his pocket to bring out another, smaller glowing box which he uses to show various pictures.

He displays the most interesting monsters. Luo Binghe can't help but strategize about how he himself would attack such a creature, and his Shizun is happy to interject and praise and correct. After the monsters, though, he begins going into more detail about the history of this Geralt. Luo Binghe is put in a situation where he must rapidly come to the realization that his husband has what he and Shang-shishu would refer to as a "type."

This Geralt has long hair, though his seems to be frequently unwashed and quite greasy and dirty. Not the sort of hair his Shizun would want to pat or play with. He is a strong and unmatched fighter, but Luo Binghe has seen the monsters he faces. He would be able to beat Geralt in a fight. He would have no defense against his blood parasites, Xin Mo, the combination of demonic and spiritual qi that has proven effective against a thousand foes before him. This Geralt is some hybrid outcast that many use for his strength and then discard. Shen Yuan makes it very clear just how "cool" he thinks that is.

Luo Binghe knows what sort of man and what sort of husband he is. He knows that he gets jealous easily. It is something his husband pretends to be bothered by but is actually quite fond of. When Luo Binghe gets sticky and whiny and possessive, his beloved Shizun is quick to hold him close, reassure him, show with his body just how much he belongs to Luo Binghe. Now, though, with his Shizun's memory being what it is, he can't do any of that. Worst of all, he can see that light in his husband's eyes, the way that he lingers on pictures of this Geralt. It speaks of the kind of ashamed attraction that he has learned to pick up on over the years, from the many times a similar expression was directed his way.

This Geralt is just a character in what his husband has referred to as a "video game." But, then, Luo Binghe is just a character in a book, as far as his husband is aware. So maybe Luo Binghe will have to keep an eye out for this strong man with long, white hair. Just in case.

He can come to terms with the fact that he is jealous of a character in a story. He has never pretended to be the precious white lotus his husband thinks he is. Well, that's not quite right. He has most certainly pretended to be that white lotus, but he has never once believed himself to be. He knows that he is possessive and that he has never been happy to have his Shizun's eyes or thoughts on anyone but him.

It is frustrating, to sit here on the same sofa as his most beloved person, and listen to him talk about another man that he is clearly interested in, all while knowing that he is unaware of the commitment he made to Luo Binghe.

It is not that difficult, though, to direct the conversation back to the monsters in this other world, and Luo Binghe will never tire of seeing this part of his husband, one that so few are ever granted the privilege of meeting.

The next hours pass like that. Shen Yuan talks and becomes more animated and forgets himself completely. He has no fan to hide behind, and Luo Binghe gets to learn how the same facial expressions fit onto a different face.  When he finishes explaining everything through words and pictures, his husband takes a strangely shaped contraption and uses it to control the images on the glowing box. He continues to explain and narrate over every second and the sun slowly makes its way across the sky, outside those wide windows.

Luo Binghe would never bother to pay attention to something like the System, when his husband is in the room to take all of his attention. It seems as though the System does not like this fact, and so several hours into their interactions, a small floating box with just the number of his C-Points appears in the bottom corner of his vision.

They pass their day. His husband sits just a little too close to him and continues to talk. Luo Binghe basks in his presence, no matter what form it takes. And the numbers in the little box continue to go up.

*~*~*

Their time together that day does not end with a kiss. Neither, does it end with another walk home. Shen Yuan informs Luo Binghe, laughing a little shame-facedly, that the walk the day before had been a little ways outside of his normal mobility exercises. Luo Binghe takes a moment to reassess the activities of the day through this lens. On second glance, his husband had been much less active today, compared to the day before. Looking closer, Luo Binghe can see the telltale signs of his Shizun hiding pain. It's in the careful and intentional motion of every joint and limb. Luo Binghe resolves not to make a mistake like this again.

Their day together does not end with a kiss. Neither does the next one, nor the one after that. Luo Binghe knows better than to think for even a second that his husband will be so quick to realize that he is being courted. Even so, the days slide by with a sort of wonderful agony.

Luo Binghe doesn't know if he'll ever be able to put these days into words. How wonderful, to be allowed to meet your most important person in another world and find a way to learn them and fall in love with them all over again. How wonderful, to watch as they slowly grow fond of you in return, to watch the love slowly return to their eyes when they look at you. 

And yet, how awful to be stuck in this strange and unfamiliar place. Luo Binghe is the kind of man who could adjust to any situation without difficulty. He has been kicked to the ground so many times, who would he be were he not able to drag himself back up out of the dirt? He knows how to survive on his own. When he married Shen Qingqiu, a peak lord and immortal cultivator, he had thought it would never again be necessary to find a way to survive on his own.

Well, that's not quite right. When you learn a lesson like that, so many times over, at such a young age, there is little you can do to escape it. Luo Binghe never truly stops preparing to have to survive and fend for himself in a world that is cruel and unfamiliar. He had always been prepared for this, in the back of his mind, guard never fully down. He had hoped that, now that he was married, it would mean that fear could slowly bury itself, until one day it might finally vanish. One year of marriage is not long enough for something like that.

The days slide by, and it's wonderful to know his husband in this new world and this new life. He wants to be able to tell someone what this has been like for him. He wants to see that joyful spark return to his Shizun's eye, when he opens the door to see Luo Binghe on the other side. And, when that spark finally does return, he wants nothing more than to run home and tell his husband of the wonderful thing he has accomplished this day.

Instead, when Luo Binghe "goes home," all he's really doing is slinking down the block and wedging himself deep in an alleyway, where it would be difficult to see him should someone pass by on the road. He does not want his Shizun to accidentally encounter him. Each morning Luo Binghe is able to use his qi to burn off any sweat or dirt on his skin. He has yet to discover a way to access any bathing facilities. He has stolen several more outfits, so that his husband will not start to question his repeated clothing, considering Shen Yuan arrives to every day with a new colorful shirt and loose pair of pants.

And they are spending every day together. That is one thing that Luo Binghe is quite proud to admit. He has worked hard to integrate himself into this version of his husband's life. Not as difficult to do, when he has spent every moment since his adolescence planning for how to do exactly that. He knows what it takes to gain a fond smile, and he knows how to read each line of his husband's face to see what it is he might desire next.

It is because he knows his husband so well, that he knows this pattern is not sustainable. The System continues to rack up points, making it clear in data Luo Binghe did not need that Shen Yuan is growing in his affection toward Luo Binghe. If left to his own devices, Shen Yuan would be content to live forever in this pattern. Luo Binghe might feel slightly guilty about pushing him beyond this, if he had not seen all the ways it made his husband happy as well. Over the past year, Shizun has made it clear that there are times when he wants Luo Binghe to push him.

This is not entirely selfless. Luo Binghe wants his husband back, as much as he is enjoying this smaller, softer version of him. He knows that his husband is growing in affection toward him, but affection alone does not seem to be what the System requires for their return to their home and the treatment of his amnesia.

Even so, there are weeks of Luo Binghe bringing every meal, home cooked, or more accurately, cooked in a stolen kitchen until he receives an invitation into Shen Yuan's home. Shared meals, shared walks, and shared time together in that small apartment. Luo Binghe does not understand much of this world, but there is no need to. He has all of the important things.

After these weeks, an alert pings on the floating blue screen of the System.

[Congratulations! User Luo Binghe has completed quest: Even in This World? by maximizing positive feelings that User Shen Yuan has toward him.]

[New quest: This New World Sucks. User Luo Binghe may earn C-Points through sexual pleasure provided to User Shen Yuan. Important: Success criteria for this mission require that User Luo Binghe provides oral sex to User Shen Yuan. Good luck!]

And that throws Luo Binghe for a little bit of a loop. He has no moral, sexual, or personal hang-ups over the idea of pleasuring his husband with his mouth. Certainly none. The only barrier, would be the simple fact that his husband does not seem to want it. Until now, that had been all that Luo Binghe needed to know in order to mark the topic as closed. He has learned from their first sexual encounters and does not intend to repeat such a mistake.

Luo Binghe has never been allowed to pleasure his Shizun with his mouth. Not even once, in the year since they finally worked out their communication and started to build a life together.

It wouldn't be a concern, if it were simply that he thought Shizun did not prefer sex that way. He is certainly a particular and exacting man, with clear and strong opinions on most things, even if he tries to hide them behind a thousand painted fans. Luo Binghe has learned how to notice every subtle twitch, every change in posture, and he would never want to do something that his husband would not want.

It doesn't matter that he fantasized about it so much, as a young disciple in the side room, quietly muffling his breaths into his arm while he pleasured himself in the small bed. He worked so hard to be accepted as the person who would serve his Shizun, in every way that he might desire, and he would imagine all the ways that could happen and evolve. Imagine one day sitting next to Shizun at the table over dinner and being called over to bend down and provide pleasure in one more way.

Luo Binghe has many, many extensive fantasies of the various ways that something like this might occur, and has only become more creative over the years.

Even so, Shizun was always a willing and eager participant, in these fantasies. Even the rougher ones.

So, if it was simply that this was not the way his husband preferred to receive pleasure in bed, then that would be the end of it.

Luo Binghe has learned how to notice every subtle twitch, every change in posture, that might indicate something that his husband would not want. He learned how to do it when he was still a new initiate, struggling desperately to figure out just what it was everyone else on the peak had figured out that he had not. Just what it was that made him so despicable to his peak lord, so that maybe he could stop doing it. And then, he learned it all over again, when he changed into his kind Shizun, and all his terrifying little mannerisms changed with him. This time, not to avoid rage, but rather to find out just what it would take for one more smile, one more head pat, one more soft gesture of warmth.

So, he knows when his Shizun is saying no because the thing being suggested is repulsive to him. He knows what it looks like when he is saying no so gently so as to not upset the overly fragile feelings of his endless admirers, even when he would rather spit than consider whatever they may be suggesting. And he knows what it looks like when his Shizun is saying no but what he's really saying is something more like please, Binghe, I can't admit how much I want this until you bully me into it.

That one is Luo Binghe's favorite.

Which is why it is so infuriating that the face his Shizun makes when Luo Binghe suggests one of his many childhood fantasies is none of these options. Instead, it seems to be some kind of horrified shock. Like it is completely unfathomable to Shizun that his devoted disciple might want to pleasure him in this way as well.

It seems, to Luo Binghe, a completely natural extension of their dynamic. Shizun is the kind of person who loves to be cossetted and pampered. He loves nothing more than to read a book, fanning himself lightly under the warm and comfortable rays of the sun while his adoring husband toils away in the kitchen and brings him snacks and tea and soft kisses pressed just to the crown of his forehead.

His husband loves nothing in the world more than being spoiled. How convenient, then, that Luo Binghe gains such joy and fulfillment from being the one to spoil him. There is no greater pleasure in Luo Binghe's life, after his childhood of endless deprivation and loss, after years in the Endless Abyss when he often had nothing to eat but his own limbs, after the years when Shizun was away and he had all the wealth he could want and no reason to use it. What more could he want than to have the ability to keep the person he loves near to him, meet their every whim, ensure that they want for nothing?

It seems like a natural extension of their dynamic. Shizun loves nothing more than to be pleasured and Luo Binghe loves nothing more than to bring his husband pleasure.

He would think that Shizun would enjoy it, to lie back and relax while his adoring husband worshiped him, brought him to climax with his clever mouth and careful hands. (Or, even more so - while Binghe is bringing up his husband's myriad and confusing sexual reservations - to allow his Binghe to undergo all the time-consuming discomfort and preparation so that he could take his pleasure from the clutch of Luo Binghe's body. Binghe would certainly enjoy it. Both. Either.)

But always, in this one way, his Shizun behaves as though Luo Binghe has said some terrible, taboo thing. Shocking and unthinkable. The sort of topic he will not even give enough thought to in order to discover whether or not he might want it.

Which is why this is such a concerning situation. The System has set such a thing as the necessary requirement in order to return memories. Luo Binghe is willing to at least have an intentional conversation about it, in the way his husband has always been so quick to avoid. Should he continue to report discomfort or displeasure at the idea, Luo Binghe will simply hunt down and torture the System until it agrees to return them without such unnecessary requirements.

At that thought, a bright and happy little blue screen appears in front of him again, providing cheerful encouragement and a hint toward how to achieve his goal. As if Luo Binghe does not know his own husband and is not aware of what will be necessary to complete this achievement. He closes the screen with barely a glance. If it is still so quick to respond to his thoughts in that direction, then he remains firm in his belief that it is possible to kill this System. He has only refrained from doing so due to his enjoyment in growing to know this alternate Shizun, and the fact that a clear path back to their home is laid out before him. As soon as this becomes any more convoluted or unattainable, he will set out to circumvent these ridiculous quests.

For this moment, though, there is something more interesting for Luo Binghe to focus on. "maximizing positive feelings that User Shen Yuan has toward him." He had known that his husband was growing fond of him again, but the idea that Luo Binghe can know that his husband feels as fond of him as he is capable of feeling. Despite it all, it's a heady feeling.

It also means that he has lost his last excuse as to why he has not told Shen Yuan the truth of his existence here. Up until now, Luo Binghe has been waiting until they had built a relationship strong enough that Shen Yuan would at least listen to what he has to say. In the best case scenario, he will simply believe him. But Luo Binghe at least needs him to be willing to listen.

His husband does not have the best track record in responding to stark revelations about hidden details of Luo Binghe's identity. Even if he may eventually change his tune, come around to understanding, his husband's first reaction to such information could easily be to lash out and push Luo Binghe away. He has been trying to make sure that their relationship was close enough that this would not be the automatic response. He has maybe been putting it off, and using the closeness of their relationship as an excuse.

Luo Binghe promised his Shizun that he would never let any more harm befall him. And yet, over and over again, he has failed in that promise. He is doing all that is within his power to fix it. It's selfish to hold back this detail, just because he would not know how to survive in this strange world if his husband were to cast him out.

Not true. He could survive. Luo Binghe knows how to survive anywhere. He's being selfish, because there is always a way that he could find to solve this problem, even if it means killing the System itself, but he instead holds himself back, just because he does not want to be alone again. And so, again, he is choosing his own happiness over the potential harm of his husband.

These revelations all occur while he is sitting on a couch next to Shen Yuan, distantly watching the drama that his husband has been so eager to show him. Luo Binghe is enjoying it, but there is so much space left in his brain with which to agonize over things like this. Enough space left to remind himself just how selfishly he is behaving.

"Shen-ge?" he says, because he tried calling him Shizun and Shen Yuan wasn't willing to let it happen. They arrived on this compromise just a day or two into their meeting in this world. It's overly-familiar, just as much in this world is. At first, it almost made Luo Binghe blush to say it. Now, he has noticed that Shen Yuan will often be the one who is blushing, when he says such things, and it's become much easier to say. "This Jiang Ruobing has something he would like to tell you."

Shen Yuan has been trying to dissuade him from speaking in such a formal way, but that has yet to happen, and will likely never occur. At the tone in Luo Binghe's voice, though, he can clearly see as Shen Yuan straightens up, leans forward to pause the drama, turns back to face him on the couch.

"Of course, Ruobing. You can tell me anything and I will listen."

How lovely, to be back in a world where his Shizun says such kind things to him. The same sort of kind words that he would use when Luo Binghe was a child too, before he threw him into the Endless Abyss anyway.

Selfish.

"This Jiang Ruobing is not who he has portrayed himself to be." Luo Binghe goes to pour out his whole story, but just that first sentence alone causes the System to flare up before him.

Unlike previous times, when it has arrived with a cheerful-sounding bloop and shared its words on an easily-dismissed blue screen, the System begins flashing a bright and blinding red. The screen is so large that it takes up the entirety of Luo Binghe's vision, blocking out even his view of his husband.

[Warning! Mission failure warning! User Luo Binghe must not disclose the existence of the System or his status as someone from another world to anyone else! Doing so will result in the loss of two thousand C-Points and his automatic deportation to his original world.]

The words remain there, flashing, as Luo Binghe feels a sudden, staggering, overwhelming rage rip through him. A level he has not felt since the destruction of Xin Mo. He knows he is on the edge of lashing out, of vicious and destructive violence.

He cannot do that. Not here and now, while his husband of this world sits before him with his uncalloused hands and a delicate constitution. The window of the System's screen will not close without him manually telling it to do so. He cannot focus long enough to give the command.

Luo Binghe is a demon. A Heavenly Demon. His blood runs hot in his veins and he has lived the last decade with one foot in the more violent culture of the Demonic Realm. He will not allow that to overtake him. Luo Binghe breathes in deep, holds it, pushes through the overwhelming pressure of the screen before him. He breathes the air out slow through jaw-clenched and volcanic fury. He closes the window.

Shen Yuan still sits on the couch before him. His Shizun. His beloved husband, unable to remember anything about his Binghe. Unable to understand what Luo Binghe might be feeling at this moment. Unable to provide the same kind of soothing words and touches that he would, were he to remember his place at Luo Binghe's side.

He looks worried, a furrow between his thicker brows and a hand outstretched onto the couch between them. Luo Binghe has worried him, and he cannot even explain why.

He will force it down. He cannot do this now. This is not what will return his husband to him, and that is the goal here. Luo Binghe forces his face to relax, none of the fury showing. He smiles a loose and calm smile into the face of his husband's worry.

"Apologies, Shen-ge. This Jiang Ruobing was simply overcome with worry for a moment." The tension and release as Shen Yuan initially doubts the explanation before buckling under the trust he holds for Luo Binghe. Buckling under the lies and manipulation. "If Shen-ge is still willing to listen, this one would still like to share his thoughts."

Another lie. He cannot say what he was planning to, but there are so many secrets between them, and the System is only the largest.

It may be wrong, to try and seduce his husband under such false pretenses as this, but there is no option for telling the truth beyond the loss of him entirely, and Luo Binghe is willing to cross every boundary he has to avoid that outcome. If this is the way in which he is able to regain his husband, then this is how it will happen.

Luo Binghe glances down, blinks slowly in a way that he knows emphasizes the length of his eyelashes. His blood moves as he wills it to, and he wills it to flood his cheeks in a high flush. When he glances back up toward Shen Yuan with wide eyes, it is obvious that this is having the impact he intended. Shen Yuan stares at Luo Binghe open-mouthed and with a matching flush on his own cheeks.

"This one only means to say that he admires Shen-ge very much. Shen-ge has been so welcoming and kind to this Jiang Ruobing, and this Jiang Ruobing would like to be a part of his life for as long as Shen-ge would allow, as a boyfriend or a spouse or a friend." The only way to confess to his husband is to remove any possible room for misinterpretation. Luo Binghe allows a little bit of fang to peek out the corner of his mouth and worry at his lips, as if in nervousness.

"Jiang Ruobing!" Shen Yuan gasps the name as if any of this should be a surprise to him. His eyes are locked onto the place where Luo Binghe's tooth is showing, and he pauses to lick his lips before continuing. "That's, I mean, huh. I never would have thought that someone like you would be interested in men." This is not a surprise to hear only because Luo Binghe's husband has said such things to him before. Luo Binghe accepted long ago that his husband has some internal rule system for who he expects Luo Binghe and others to be attracted to, and it is rarely anything close to accurate. He never worked to correct this because, if Shen Qingqiu suddenly gained the ability to notice when someone is romantically interested in him, Luo Binghe's life would become significantly more complicated.

"This one hopes he has not made Shen-ge uncomfortable with his feelings." This is a lie. Luo Binghe knows that he has made his husband uncomfortable. It happens any time anyone takes the time to speak of genuine emotions. He also knows, after a year of marriage and a decade of shared life before that, that it is impossible to progress in a relationship with Shizun if one is unwilling to make him somewhat uncomfortable. This is another reason why Shen Qingqiu has yet to become aware of his many admirers. Also, Luo Binghe knows what his husband looks like when he is attracted to someone. He knows what it looks like when his husband wants him. Shen Yuan has been looking at him in such a way for weeks now.

"Oh, no, it's okay. I'm an ally and stuff." Luo Binghe nods as if this is a word that he understands. He certainly understands the tone. "Just, you know, I'm straight. So, it's cool and shit, but I don't really feel that way about you." This does not bother Luo Binghe, because he knows that his husband finds him attractive. He also knows that his husband has always struggled to come to terms with this attraction. It wasn't until Luo Binghe came to this world and saw how they might treat attraction to other men that he started to understand part of why that might be.

"This one thanks Shen-ge for being so kind to listen to this lowly one's confession, despite his lack of attraction. This lowly Jiang Ruobing is simply thankful to be in Shen-ge's presence, however he will have this one." Luo Binghe's dear husband sighs in relief, thinking that this conversation is over and that he has escaped unscathed. This is because he has forgotten his history getting to know Luo Binghe. "This one only hopes-" Luo Binghe lets a hitch in his breathing cut off his words for a moment. He calls tears to his eyes, effortless as breathing. "This one only hopes that his dearest person will not send him away now."

It is a delicate balance, navigating the endless invisible barriers and hangups that prevent anyone from reaching the part of his Shizun that is willing to be loved and touched and desired. It takes years to master. Luo Binghe has put in those years. Now, for him, it is not effortless, but his muscle memory can easily take him through the steps.

"Oh, no, Jiang Ruobing." Shen Yuan's soft hands flutter helplessly in the air around Luo Binghe. He ducks his head, as if embarrassed about this display of tears, calling more blood to his face as he does so. The bright red of embarrassment. "No, it's okay. We can still be friends and hang out every day and stuff. Nothing has to change about this friendship. It's, shit, please stop crying."

Shen Yuan's hand finally crosses that invisible boundary that has existed between them in this world, reaching out to pat gently at Luo Binghe's bent head, settling in among his curls. Luo Binghe manages not to curl into the warmth of it, only barely, because then Shen Yuan would take it away and he can't stand to lose it so soon. Despite the lie of some of this, he truly has been desperate to feel his husband's touch in any form over the past two months. This whole process is a show, only in that Luo Binghe is intentionally letting some of the upset that he carries with him show externally. His Shizun always knows when he's exaggerating, and it has never stopped him from showing his endless care and love, so Luo Binghe has never bothered to get out of the habit.

"I'm sorry," Luo Binghe whimpers. "This one will stop crying. It is only that this one has wanted so badly to kiss his Shen-ge, just once. But this one understands. He will not bring this up again." Luo Binghe huffs out one more shaking breath, stops the flow of his tears, raises his eyes back to his husband without wiping his face. He takes one more breath and forces out a smile with a lip that is trembling just a little.

"Hush, hush," Shen Yuan murmurs, reaching out to wipe away the tears that have smeared across Luo Binghe's face. The pads of his thumbs are so soft and smooth, and the gentle brush against his cheeks brings Luo Binghe back to the first time his Shizun was so kind to him after he cried, when Luo Binghe was still newly 14 and ashamed to show such weakness, before his Shizun reassured him that he never needed to hide his tears again.

It only lasts a second, before Shen Yuan seems to notice what he is doing, at which point he jumps back to reinstate the distance between them, rubs his hand against his pants, and clears his throat stiffly. "Ah, that's, sorry about that."

"This one did not mind."

"Right, of course, yeah, sorry about that." Shen Yuan clears his throat again. Luo Binghe allows the silence to stretch thick and heavy in the room. He can see Shen Yuan fidgeting a little, in the way that he always does when he's being made to sit in an emotionally vulnerable conversation.

Finally, when the silence is becoming almost painful, Luo Binghe takes one more deep breath and glances off to the side. "This one apologizes for bringing it up." He gets to his feet. As he stands from the couch, Shen Yuan's fingers twitch in his direction, as if to grab him and keep him from walking away. Good. It is still just as he thought it was. "Please allow this one to make dinner for Shen-ge, as a way to make up for any discomfort this one may have caused." That helps his husband relax, just a little, knowing that Luo Binghe is not about to leave the house entirely.

Luo Binghe makes his way to the kitchen. These past few weeks, he and Shen Yuan have created something of a routine. Usually, in their home world, his Shizun will work on creating lesson plans and evaluating field reports from the students back on Qing Jing Peak, while Luo Binghe cooks dinner, and then they will eat together. It is peaceful and quiet, for them to both go about their respective duties and then share their thoughts afterward. In this world, however, Shen Yuan does not seem to have any such duties or responsibilities, and so a new routine has developed. Instead of working quietly and in tandem, Shen Yuan will often perch on some chair or counter and make idle conversation with Luo Binghe while he prepares their meal. It is something about this world that Luo Binghe has grown to treasure with every part of his heart.

Tonight, they do not follow that routine. Luo Binghe sets to work on several of Shen Yuan's favorite dishes, modifying them in ways he has already tested to make sure they do not include any of the foods he is unable to digest but still have a taste that is up to Luo Binghe's standards. Some are complicated dishes. Even with much of the preparation completed ahead of time, it will take almost an hour for Luo Binghe's competent hands to bring together. Luo Binghe works in silence and Shen Yuan remains in the other room, presumably sitting still on the couch where Luo Binghe left him.

Luo Binghe is not worried. His husband is the sort of man who needs time to adjust his thoughts to new information, especially when they include details about other people's feelings. Especially when it involves things like attraction. He has not always understood this, and it contributed to many of the complications between them when he emerged from the Abyss, as well as many frustrated nights when they were first married. His husband does not understand what someone is feeling unless they state it to him as directly and clearly as possible, sometimes multiple times. And then, his husband does not know what to do with that information unless he is given time to process it.

Poor Shizun. Everything Luo Binghe has ever learned about him suggests that he has never encountered a person who treats him in this specific way, allowing him to go through most of his life in blind denial and oblivious ignorance. It makes Luo Binghe furious, at times, to think that no one in his Shizun's life before him had ever taken the time to learn how to form a genuine connection with him. At the same time, however, and much louder than all that fury, is the jealous possessive pleasure, at the fact that no one else on earth has ever known his husband the way that Luo Binghe knows him.

He finishes with his cooking, chicken mei fun, a sliced tofu salad and honey lotus root with sticky rice. And eclectic combination, perhaps, but one that he has learned Shen Yuan is always delighted to see.

"Shen-ge," he calls, quietly, to not startle his Shizun from where he has likely completely descended into his own mind. "Dinner is ready, if you would still like to share a meal with this one."

The soft patter of Shen Yuan's slippers against the floors of his apartment, as he quietly makes his way over from the sitting room. Just that sound alone is enough to make Luo Binghe's heart turn over in his chest again. He loves him he loves him he loves him.

"Jiang Ruobing, ah, you didn't need to go through all this trouble," Shen Yuan mutters, but he still sits down eagerly at the table to join Luo Binghe, so he doesn't pay the protests much mind at all. He has been hearing similar things from his Shizun for years, at this point.

"This one loves nothing more than to cook a meal for his Shen-ge that he might enjoy," Luo Binghe demurs. His husband clearly starts to respond, but is blocked by some silly thought or another, because he opens his mouth, stutters, closes it, clears his throat, and begins to eat instead. Luo Binghe is more than happy to join him.

The silence persists, because Luo Binghe is letting it persist. It is generally his job to break through the awkward tension his husband will sometimes create, lost in his own thoughts. Luo Binghe isn't going to distract him, though, this time. He wants his husband to be having these thoughts.

Sure enough, they make it through almost the entire meal, before Shen Yuan clears his throat again. Luo Binghe wastes no time in snapping to attention. This is, after all, still his Shizun. Also, his Shizun had always enjoyed what an attentive student Luo Binghe can be. He is not above taking advantage of all of his prior knowledge, in a situation like this.

"Jiang Ruobing," he starts, then clears his throat, tries again, "you said earlier that all that you had wanted was to kiss me, just once." That high flush is back in his Shizun's cheeks and Luo Binghe wants to bite them until they stay reddened like that for days to come. Yes, that is exactly what he said. Yes, this is what he thought his most beloved husband may have been thinking about, alone in the other room.

"I did say that, Shen-ge. But I would never want to make you uncomfortable and will be sure to never bring it up again."

"Well, ah, well hold on for just a second. I didn't tell you you needed to never talk about it again."

"Shen-ge did not, but this Jiang Ruobing values this friendship as it stands, and has no desire to bring strain to it by making Shen-ge uncomfortable."

"Hush," Shen Yuan snaps, just a little. Luo Binghe can feel his blood responding to that fond, embarrassed, chiding tone. "Let me say this. Cause, see, I was thinking that kissing really is just the same, whether you're kissing a girl or a guy, as long as the guy doesn't have a beard or mustache or things." Oh, this is a fantastic excuse. Truly, Luo Binghe will never tire of seeing the intricacies his husband's mind will go through to allow himself to want the things he already wants. "It's really just lips, at that point."

"I suppose that is true, Shen-ge."

"Right, exactly. So, you know, a guy kissing another guy doesn't necessarily mean that he's gay. Or that he's attracted to men, just that kissing feels good and it feels the same either way." This is one of the most ridiculous things that Luo Binghe has ever heard, as someone who has only ever wanted to kiss one person and has, in fact, only ever kissed that one person.

"I had never thought of it like that, Shen-ge." His husband's face becomes just slightly more red every time he calls him Shen-ge, and it is something Luo Binghe will never forget.

"Right, well, no one is willing to talk about things like this. It takes a lot of security in your masculinity, and stuff. So. I'm not surprised you've never heard about it before."

"As Shen-ge says."

"So!" And here, his Shizun shifts a little skittishly. Luo Binghe is a wolf at the table, watching as a rabbit slowly explains to him just why it would be perfectly okay to crawl into his mouth. He uses every piece of his self-control to keep the hungry smile of a predator off of his face and nod like the little white sheep his husband likes to say he is. "If that's the case, then, ha, I don't see why it would be a problem for me to let you kiss me, just the once."

The rabbit is setting one dainty paw right on the edge of the wolf's maw, smiling calmly and easily while it does so. Luo Binghe holds himself so, so incredibly still.

"Shen-ge does not have to force himself, if he does not want this."

"Well," his husband sputters, "It's not necessarily that I want to kiss another man, but I don't mind kissing in general-" his husband has never kissed anyone before and Luo Binghe knows this for a fact, "and if it’s something my friend wants, then I don't know why it has to be a big deal or anything."

"As long as Shen-ge is sure that he would not be making himself uncomfortable for this Jiang Ruobing's sake," Luo Binghe hedges.

"Haven't I just said so?" He clicks his tongue and Luo Binghe loves him so incredibly much he will have to invent new languages just to capture it all. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"Of course. Sorry, Shen-ge." Luo Binghe ducks his head. There is a silence that stretches and pulls like taffy, now. "So, then, if Shen-ge is willing, may this Jiang Ruobing kiss him?"

"Not yet!" Ah, so he needs time to adjust to this idea as well, now. Luo Binghe can wait. He can hold so still. "With our dinner only halfway eaten? Are you trying to have all of this food go to waste?" Only until the end of dinner? Oh, Luo Binghe can easily wait that long.

"Sorry, Shen-ge. Forgive this one for being over-eager." Both of them are blushing now, only one of them intentionally.

"Eat your food."

"Yes, Shen-ge."

They finish their meal. It is silent again. Shen Yuan fidgets more and more as they draw closer to the end. Luo Binghe is going to ruin him.

First, though, he carefully carries the dishes back into the kitchen and begins to wash them. His husband drifts quietly after him, clearly still caught up in his head. Luo Binghe holds the dripping bowls out and Shen Yuan takes them to dry silently.

And then the dishes are done. There are no more convenient excuses to delay the kiss. Shen Yuan has an anxious, frantic energy to him now, as if he is thinking the exact same thing.

"If Shen-ge would allow it, this one would like to kiss him now." Luo Binghe has dried off his hands. Shen Yuan is still standing near the counter, and Luo Binghe takes a large step toward him, so that his back is pressed against the marble just so he can maintain the space between them.

"Shouldn't we move to the living room or something? Wouldn't that make more sense?" He has nervous, fluttering hands, and his eyes are darting, but there is no trace of true fear in his husband's face, nor is there any sign that he might flee.

"This Jiang Ruobing would like to kiss Shen-ge here, but of course Shen-ge can choose where he would be most comfortable."

"Ah, well, then. Ha. Haven't I told you you don't have to address me so formally?"

"This Jiang Ruobing cannot help but wonder if Shen-ge is trying to change the subject." Luo Binghe tilts his head to the side in curiosity, smiles gently and with a little bit of fang, glances up through his eyelashes.

"Ha," another strained laugh, but his eyes are lingering on Luo Binghe's teeth again. "Of course not. You can, you know, go ahead and everything."

Luo Binghe takes that final step forward, closing the space until there is only a breath between their bodies. Shen Yuan leans back over the counter just a little, but not out of Luo Binghe's reach. He moves slowly, hand in clear sight, so that Shen Yuan has every warning and chance to pull away. When he doesn't, Luo Binghe traces his too-sharp nails along the thin skin at his husband's temple, hungrily watches the resulting shiver, threads his fingers into the shockingly short hair that his husband has in this world.

"Thanking Shen-ge," he murmurs, and then he uses that touch on Shen Yuan's face to pull him in until their lips make contact.

When Luo Binghe had his first kiss, he was desperate and overeager and terrified and willing to do anything in the world to keep his Shizun by his side. It had been messy and full of teeth and likely painful. Now, though, he has over a year of learning how to kiss this very man in a way that he enjoys. Shen Yuan, on the other hand, does not remember ever having been kissed at all.

Luo Binghe wants to make it good. He knows how to make it good.

The kiss is soft but not chaste. He holds Shen Yuan's face like a soap bubble, guiding him into a good angle and pressing into the warmth of it. There is a tiny mmph noise from Shen Yuan, as he adjusts to the feel of it. Luo Binghe holds it there, for a moment, to allow him to settle before he deepens the kiss.

It starts with a smile, because he can't hold all his joy at this moment inside himself, pulling his lips into a new shape and opening his mouth a little. And then, now that his mouth is already a little open, Luo Binghe refocuses, alternating between sucking gently against his Shizun's lips and little kitten licks against the seam of his mouth. Another noise, this one in a slightly hungrier tone, and Luo Binghe can't help the way his hand tightens in Shen Yuan's hair, the way his other hand latches onto the plushness of his hip.

Shen Yuan's hands are smaller and softer than his husband's usually are, and one of them comes to rest tentatively on Luo Binghe's chest, where the soft fabric of his shirt gapes low over his collarbones. There is still a dampness there, the faint smell of soap, because they are standing in the kitchen together and just finished washing the dishes and it is suddenly so much that Luo Binghe can feel the tears, real this time, gathering in his eyes and choking him.

This is his husband. This is the husband that Luo Binghe has been missing for months now, finally showing some of that affection back. He doesn't deserve this, not with all the ways he has failed in his promise to keep him safe, but Luo Binghe wants to be near him all the same. He is always skin-hungry and starved for love, always craving touch with an intensity he doesn't think will ever truly go away. And finally, finally, finally here is his husband, loving him again. Kissing him again. The kiss does not stay light, though it never loses its gentleness. Luo Binghe would chew off his own arm rather than hurt his Shizun again.

The accumulation of all those weeks is yawning up withing Luo Binghe, and Shen Yuan is soft and pliant under his touch, and Luo Binghe cannot help but dive in further. He kisses him, adjusts their angle, kisses him deeper. Shen Yuan has opened his mouth to welcome him, now, and Luo Binghe has never the type to refuse an invitation such as that. He delves into his husband's mouth, tastes the meal that he just worked so hard to make for him.

Shen Yuan moves his tongue as well, touching back so tentatively and artlessly, and it's almost enough to knock Luo Binghe's legs out from under him. He leans in further, closes the space between their bodies, until they are pressed together head to toe and breathing in only each other. Shen Yuan keeps making those quiet noises, and at some point he has raised his hand into the mass of Luo Binghe's hair to tangle in among the curls. It's so much. It can't fit inside of Luo Binghe's chest. His arm is around Shen Yuan's back, pulling him in closer, an embrace along with the kiss.

It carries on for just a moment longer, Luo Binghe doing everything in his power to merge their two bodies into one. He could have kept going for hours more, taking advantage of the invitation to kiss Shen Yuan “just once,” but his husband has not learned the skill of keeping his breath while engaging in such activities, and he pulls away with a wild gasp.

And then Luo Binghe is left to be struck over the head with what his husband looks like in this body, when he has just been freshly ravished. Shen Yuan blushes easily, and that carries over here. There are two spots of pink high on his cheeks and his lips are red as fresh blood. His eyes are dazed and unfocused even as they slowly blink open and look in Luo Binghe's general direction.

It is too much. It's all too much, and Luo Binghe can't help but pull him in closer, by the grip on his waist and his back, pull him into an embrace and hide his own face in the short hair, just to take a moment to remember this feeling.

"Ha," Shen Yuan gasps, still out of breath from the way his chest his heaving against Luo Binghe's. "Well. Ha. I hope that was, you know, everything you were hoping for."

"Shen-ge could never fail to live up to all of this one's hopes." Luo Binghe can't help himself from nuzzling into Shen Yuan's hair a bit, feeling too-big and animal in this moment. There are still tears wet on his face, and he hopes Shen Yuan didn't see them. He doesn't have the ability to explain why this mattered so much to him. He doesn't want to scare him away. "This one hopes he did not make Shen-ge uncomfortable, in return."

"Jiang Ruobing shouldn't fish for compliments. You surely know that you are a good kisser." And maybe Luo Binghe preens a bit at that. He wasn't a good kisser for his husband, not very long ago. He dedicated himself as a student to become better.

"This one is glad to hear that Shen-ge enjoyed it."

"Okay, you can't keep talking to me so formally when you just did...that." Shizun's words are slightly strained, but he is making no moves at all to distance himself from where he and Luo Binghe are still pressed together. "I officially am not allowing it. It'd be too weird."

"This one simply desires to show his respect and care for Shen-ge."

"Yeah, but don't you feel weird about it? You're making me feel like a creep. I'm not going to let you kiss me again, if you keep addressing me like that."

Luo Binghe knows that he has been compared to a dog many times before. Even so, he cannot help but perk up as though he has just heard his name called.

"You would be willing to kiss me again?"

Shen Yuan snickers a little, where his nose is somewhat mashed against Luo Binghe's collarbone. "So it was that easy, to make you stop?"

"You are trying to distract me, but I will not be moved from this topic."

"You still pick words that sound like you're in a historical novel."

"Begging your forgiveness, but there is only so much I can change at once."

Shen Yuan grins, and if there is one thing that Luo Binghe enjoys about this face of his husband's, it is just how freely it shows his emotions. A smile like this, toothy and joyful, is something that would only show in the delicate light of the early morning, from one pillow to the other, and only when Luo Binghe is very very lucky. In this world, there are no fans to hide behind and, it seems, less pressure to present as a peerless, calm immortal master.

He still looks kind of hazy and well-kissed, though, and is still resting comfortably in Luo Binghe's grip. Luo Binghe is running his calculations into just how far he can push his luck, here.

"With this change, would you perhaps like to continue?" Luo Binghe cocks his head to the side, relishes in the resulting gentle brush of fingers through his hair. What a good idea this was. Finally, the touch of his husband's hands again.

"I mean, I don't know if we need to jump right back into it and stuff." Shen Yuan is sputtering, but Luo Binghe allows him to continue rambling. That's usually the best way to get to a desirable outcome. "Of course, every red-blooded man would enjoy some kissing. That's completely natural. I suppose you haven't had much time to go out and pursue women, or, I guess, men, if that's what your preference is, with the way we've spent pretty much every day together. I can't blame you for being a little bit pent up after something like that."

Luo Binghe smiles blandly and does nothing to deny the assumption.

"And you're younger than me too. I know that I can even get, a hem, I mean, look, I could see why this would be something someone your age might be interested in. Just as long as you understand that I’m not interested in men. Like, I don't want to accidentally send you the wrong message or hurt your feelings or anything."

"Shen-ge would not hurt this one's feelings, no matter how he decides to proceed in this relationship." Shen Yuan raises an eyebrow, and Luo Binghe grins apologetically at the slip back into overly-formal language. He cannot help himself. He was raised alongside a teacher who beamed with joy every time he presented himself in the most proper and upstanding way possible. How could he speak in any other way now?

"As long as you understand, it's fine, then. It's really normal for people to be friends-with-benefits and things. Some friends just kiss each other sometimes and it doesn't mean anything more than two normal people allowing themselves to meet their needs."

"Just as you say."

"So, I guess, it wouldn't be so bad if we did something like this again." Shen Yuan's cheeks are a furious red, and he can't make eye contact, but this is all that Luo Binghe has been waiting to hear.

"Is Shen-ge saying that he is willing to continue, then?" Luo Binghe can feel the leer starting to stretch across his face and, for the first time in weeks, he does nothing to stop it. Shen Yuan's eyes dip again, to the fangs, and Luo Binghe is making a note of that. He has always worked hard to keep himself as human and fluffy and innocent as possible, around his husband. That is, after all, when he showed the most affection toward him. His husband likes a fluffy little white sheep, that cocks its head to ask questions and smiles guilelessly in joy. Of course, he has been kind to welcome Luo Binghe back into his life and his bed, even following all the changes that have overtaken him, but it has never been easy for Shen Qingqiu to hide his joy and endearment when Luo Binghe shows himself a certain way.

That is part of why Shen Yuan's interest in the more demonic parts of him has been so intriguing. Yes, Luo Binghe keeps them hidden to the point of plausible deniability, but there is only so much he can do. His canines are pointed, his nails are pointed, his ears are pointed. All less so than they could be, but unavoidably so.

The first time they had spent several hours together in this world, watching a drama, Shen Yuan had reached out a cautious hand almost to touch Luo Binghe's ears, before pulling back.

It's funny, it almost looks like you have elf ears. He had flushed in embarrassment, and it had been too cute for Luo Binghe to bother with the panic of what he might mean by a comment like that.

That, and then the focus on his teeth, the shiver at the touch of his claws. There is something about this version of his husband that is quite happy to see the more demonic and threatening parts of Luo Binghe. He would ask about it, if he thought this version of his husband would have the memories to answer or if the other version of his husband would have the face to have such a conversation. As it is, Luo Binghe suspects this might be one of the mysteries that comes with loving someone like his Shizun.

His Shizun's eyes drop now to the fangs on display, and Luo Binghe smiles just that little bit wider, lets his nails press the sharp tips in where they touch Shen Yuan's hip. His husband has a very showy swallow, in this body, all exaggerated Adam's apple. He doesn't say yes, but he jerks the tiniest little nod and rolls his eyes in a sort of get on with it manner, and Luo Binghe has known him long enough to know the ringing endorsement that stands for. He wastes no more time, swooping in close and taking his husband's lips with joyous enthusiasm, now that he is even more secure in his welcome.

It goes on like that for almost an hour. His Shizun is perfectly virginal in this body, seemingly surprised by every new sensation and eager to chase after any new thing that he has learned feels good. Luo Binghe is eager to comply with his wishes. He will always give his husband what he asks for, and here is no different at all. They stand there in the kitchen, Shen Yuan grabbing tight to the collar of Luo Binghe's shirt with one hand and the other tugging a little at his hair in a way his clever husband has already discovered Luo Binghe enjoys.

Luo Binghe, tired of the novel strain in his neck that comes from a husband who is suddenly so much shorter than him, had reached behind him to lift with one hand and place him up on the kitchen counter several minutes ago. Shen Yuan had released a preciously adorable yelp at that, and then had gone back to their kissing with deep huffing gasps and a wet mouth that made Luo Binghe quite sure of his welcome between his spread thighs.

Husband, husband, husband

This is as close as Luo Binghe can get, in this world. This is the bare minimum, and it should be enough. If this was all he was allowed to have, he should learn to be content with that. He has, however, always been a starving animal. When that is such a large part of your childhood, it never really leaves, and he spent so much of his childhood fighting with the feral dogs and children on the street for a scrap of food, a scrap of attention, a scrap of opportunity.

He is a desperate, starving thing, and he has never learned to be satisfied with what he is offered. If he loves someone, he wants all of them, all they can offer. If the person he loves loses their memory of him, he wants all of it back, with the new knowledge added, not some halfway compromise.

But he will take it. That's part of being a starving, desperate, feral thing too. You take whatever is offered to you. You take all of it and you still want more but you don't leave a single scrap of it behind.

His husband, in this form, seems to enjoy a little bit more manhandling than he is used to getting away with, and Luo Binghe is willing to take that too, take everything offered. Shen Yuan has more fat to him than his Shizun did in his previous body, and it makes for two glorious handfuls when Luo Binghe grabs him off the counter and starts to walk them over to the couch. Shen Yuan yelps, sure, and slaps a bit at his arm in indignation, but he gets a handful of Luo Binghe's bicep and leans right back into the kiss, so he isn't too concerned about this beyond his husband's tendency to always protest anything that makes him happy.

He wants to devour him. He must hold himself back. This Shen Yuan does not know the lengths to which his husband can go, and Luo Binghe will not destroy this, as he destroyed the first sexual encounter between himself and his husband in the first world. As he complicated many of the ones following that, as well. He will do better. He will be gentle. He will listen and be responsive.

It is appreciated, clearly. For all that Shen Yuan has protested his lack of attraction, there is no denying the whining moan that falls from his lips into the space between their mouths, when Luo Binghe lays him out on the couch in the living room and drapes himself over him. He has moved his hands from Luo Binghe's hair and collar, one hand now around Luo Binghe's neck and holding him so close that it would be impossible to pull away, were he not many times stronger than Shen Yuan. Holding him so close that it is still impossible to pull away, if only because his husband has made it quite clear where he wants him to be. The other hand is slowly sliding from Luo Binghe's bicep, to his pectorals, to his abdominal muscles. The appreciative drag of soft fingers along the ridges of muscle, particularly in areas where it is difficult to deny the masculine features Luo Binghe possesses, does much to destroy the last remnants of his husband's arguments.

He pulls Luo Binghe down onto him and then, when Luo Binghe thinks he can't feel any more self-satisfied, he feels the gentle brush of his husband's foot along the back of his leg. It's tentative at first, before it properly winds its way around and latches on. The leg that was wedged between the back of the couch and their bodies has found a much more comfortable position for itself, wrapped around the back of Luo Binghe's thigh and bringing their bodies even more flush together.

Luo Binghe is a desperate, starving, feral thing. He takes what is offered to him. He cannot help the luxurious roll of his hips against the place where his husband could not more clearly be interested in their activities.

It startles another high, whining moan out of Shen Yuan's mouth, and he flushes red immediately, pulls away to stare at the ceiling, slaps a hand over his mouth. There will need to be some damage control, then, before they are able to continue.

"Do you have a third fucking leg, what the fuck is that?" Shen Yuan's voice is high and flustered and Luo Binghe knows that he is particularly well-endowed, particularly because his husband wastes no opportunity to mention it and complain about it. He huffs a small laugh against the exposed line of Shen Yuan's neck and nibbles at the delicate tendons there.

"This one thinks Shen-ge knows what he is feeling."

"Bro what the fuck. You cannot think that you are putting that fucking monster cock anywhere near me." Luo Binghe cannot help the full-bodied laugh that breaks out of him at that. It shakes his body atop Shen Yuan's, sets him to squirming away from the breath on his neck, and that is one more delicious discovery: that this body is ticklish. Luo Binghe licks a long stripe over the same area, just to feel the tremble course through his husband's body one more time, as well as to receive a slap that goes to the area within Shen Yuan's reach. This just happens to be his upper thigh, right near the crease of Luo Binghe's ass, and this does absolutely nothing to cool his ardor.

Even so, there is some truth to this. Luo Binghe knows that he hurt his Shizun. It was, actually, quite frustrating to be so well-endowed, at the beginning of their relationship, before he had learned how to properly prepare his husband. Before his husband had learned to relax and trust him and tell him when it hurt. Even beyond that first time, it had taken months before it had been properly good for both of them, and they still make mistakes.

This body is smaller. This body had no spiritual veins of qi. This body is not accustomed to taking Luo Binghe and, most importantly, is certainly not relaxed or particularly trusting in this moment. It would not be a good idea, to try anything close to putting it in, right now. Which does complicate things, a bit, because that tends to be the only sexual position his husband is regularly open to, and Luo Binghe is significantly less practiced in other options, outside of a lifetime of vivid imagination and dream control.

[Reminder: User Luo Binghe may earn C-Points though sexual pleasure provided to User Shen Yuan. Important: Success criteria for this mission require that User Luo Binghe provide oral sex to User Shen Yuan. Good luck!]

The System winks helpfully in the corner of his vision. Luo Binghe closes out of it and returns to the more important things before him.

"This Jiang Ruobing would never think to do something like that without his Shen-ge's invitation," Luo Binghe licks another stripe up the jutting tendon along his husband's neck, following with his teeth and savoring the shivers that result from it. "Shen-ge made it very clear that this was only kissing, and only between friends." Luo Binghe rolls his hips again, feels his husband's erection against his hip, pointing out the obvious interest Shen Yuan seems to have in progressing further. "Although, this lowly one cannot help but think that, if kissing is the same whether it is between two men or a man and a woman, then that should be true for kissing anywhere, should it not?"

"Huh?" gasps out Shen Yuan, where he has clearly lost focus on the conversation in his effort to lean his head far enough back that Luo Binghe can leave a line of bright hickies along his neck, while simultaneously trying to squirm enough that it relieves some of the desperation in his cock, all while trying to pretend as though this is accidental and something that is happening to him, rather than something he is an active participant in. Truly, his husband is a multitalented individual.

"This one merely said-" his words cut out, because Shen Yuan's effort to focus seems to have reminded him that he has requested that Luo Binghe not communicate in this register, and he slaps another reprimanding blow against Luo Binghe's thigh, leading to his hips jerking helplessly forward and a shudder running through him, head to toe. "Of course, of course. I merely wished to confirm my understanding of the terms of our encounter." Another roll of the hips, with delicious slowness, and the unquestionably positive reception of his dear husband's body.

"Right, right."

"I am happy to stop, if it would make it easier for you to follow this conversation," Luo Binghe sniggers, and he feels the offended huff travel up his husband's throat before he is given the gift of hearing it.

"Don't think so highly of yourself. I can do both at once. This is merely a casual kiss between friends."

"Of course, of course, of course," Luo Binghe murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of Shen Yuan's jaw in between each repetition. When he makes it to his chin, he bites it once, softly, before moving in to kiss him for another few minutes. "And a kiss does not necessarily need to be only on the lips?"

He can see the time it takes for his dearest beloved to refocus, remember the conversation they were having, and it is one of the greatest feelings in the world, to hold this man in his arms, bring him pleasure, drive him to distraction. "Right, it wouldn't really be different. Cause it's just lips and shit."

"Right." Luo Binghe cannot help his smile, the grinning pecks he smatters over Shen Yuan's face. "Just casual. Just lips. And it doesn't matter where."

"Right," Shen Yuan echoes, clearly more focused on finding a way to get Luo Binghe back to his lips properly. Luo Binghe smacks a few more pecks around the line of his brow before answering his husband's request, as he always has, as he always will, and pulling him back in for a toe-curling kiss, grabbing tight to his hip and pulling him in even closer, following the tightening grip of the leg around his thigh. He would crawl inside his Shizun's ribcage and live there, if he could. He would sew their skin together into some grotesque amalgamation of bodies, so that they would never not be touching again. He would swallow his Shizun whole, just to never not know where he is.

"So, then, if this one were to ask to kiss Shen Yuan elsewhere, he would not be opposed?"

"I just said, didn't I?" he snaps, cranky and beloved.

"Of course, of course, of course." Again, the kisses down the neck in between each repetition, but this time Luo Binghe does not stop at the neck, tugging Shen Yuan's shirt out of the way to latch his teeth onto his collarbone. Shen Yuan whimpers and squirms more aggressively, grabs at Luo Binghe's hair, but, notably, does not stop him. In fact, he seems to be holding him in place, to the point that Luo Binghe would be fighting against resistance, if he were to try to pull away. And, well, if this is his husband's request, then he is more than happy to grant it.

Luo Binghe contents himself with his husband's chest like the dog that he is, as though he has been handed a bone to gnaw on. There are marks all along where a gaudy necklace might sit and, after several minutes, he is even able to convince his husband to remove his shirt, exposing endless soft and plump skin for him to taste and nibble and suck.

His nipples are there and, based on his reactions to Luo Binghe going near them, would likely be quite sensitive. Luo Binghe knows better, though. This is a tentative balance, and his husband's hangups are the type to emerge suddenly and devastatingly, ending any encounter as they arise. The first time he attempted to taste his husband's nipples, it had led to a week-long conversation regarding whether that was something only women were meant to enjoy. Luo Binghe hadn't understood at the time, why it mattered whether or not this was something only women were meant to enjoy, as his husband clearly had enjoyed it, for the moment he allowed it to happen, and surely that was the deciding factor?

Luo Binghe does not want to stop this encounter for another week-long conversation. He does not want to have to wait another week to see his husband again, particularly when it seems as though they are headed in a direction that may result in his return today. So, even though it is clearly a lost opportunity, Luo Binghe steers clear of his husband's nipples, leaning down to teethe against the love handles that cause him to whimper and squirm.

"It would be okay, then, for this one to kiss you here?"

"Obviously, yes. Stop asking."

"This one merely wishes to be sure of his hu-, of his friend's comfort."

"It's just kissing."

"Right, of course." And Luo Binghe returns his focus to the task at hand, even as those words land with a strange pang against his heart. There is a trail of bristling hair leading from Shen Yuan's navel to the waistline of his pants. Luo Binghe buries his nose in it and takes several deep, huffing breaths, even as Shen Yuan laughs above him, apparently ticklish here as well. "And that would mean that Shen-ge would be comfortable, even if this Jiang Ruobing were to continue kissing lower? Even if he were to remove some of the barriers in his way?"

A part of Shen Yuan is clearly not at all opposed to this idea. The jut of his erection through the soft cotton of his pants is unmistakable, where it presses against the lower corner of Luo Binghe's jaw. There is a damp spot in the light grey fabric, where his excitement has already leaked through. Even so, there is a blatant pause in the stream of agonizedly pleased noises that have been emanating from his Shizun's mouth, so far above Luo Binghe's head already. His hands are still in Luo Binghe's hair, kneading and tugging, but every other muscle has frozen. Luo Binghe leans back, rising to sit back on his knees opposite Shen Yuan.

For a moment, he is allowed the glorious pleasure of surveying his disheveled husband where he is sprawled out, well-kissed and aroused, with his limbs all akimbo, before the thin face kicks in, and Shen Yuan sits to mirror Luo Binghe's position on the other side of the couch. His knee is cocked up beside him, though, in a clear attempt to disguise his erection. Luo Binghe makes no such effort himself, very aware that his cock is straining against the stiffer fabric of his own pants.

"You mean, ha," Shen Yuan clears his throat when it comes out all shot to gravel, tries again. "You mean, like-" he gestures toward his own crotch in what he clearly determines to be demonstrative enough without having to say the words. Ah, his beloved, thin-faced husband. If they were back in their world, he would make his dearest Shizun say the words out loud, tease him until he was red-faced and pouting and finally starting to say the things that he desires of his lover.

This is not his world. The man before him is his husband, yes, but his husband as if he had never met Luo Binghe in the first place. Never worked for a decade to figure out how they best interacted with each other, communicated with each other, built a life together.

And so he does not push his husband on this. Because he does not think his husband would be willing to take that leap of faith right now, trust that Luo Binghe would always be there to catch him, to meet his needs when he finally works up the nerve to ask for them. This is fine. This is what it will take for him to get his husband back.

Instead, Luo Binghe follows his husband's gesture down to where he is still trying to play off his obvious erection. He smiles salaciously and then, when that still seems to not properly convey the message, he licks his lips to make them wet and shiny, leaves his mouth just slightly open. "Shen-ge has made it clear that kissing is something that does not need to indicate sexual preference or attraction. It should stand to reason that, if kisses are kisses, then it does not matter where that is happening."

"Right, yes," Shen Yuan says, with a level of confidence that makes it quite clear he is faking it. "That is the perfectly logical extension of what we have already been doing."

"Then Shen-ge would not mind if this lowly one were to pleasure him with his mouth?" There it is, that lovely flush that the countenance of a peerless immortal would never allow, that starts at Shen Yuan's chest and travels in bright red splotches up until it covers his entire head. Luo Binghe can see now, with his shirt off, just how low that blush goes. What a shame, to be sitting in this position and unable to lick around the edges.

"You don't-, Ruobing, What are you-. What kind of man just volunteers for something like that?" That is not a no. That is so, so incredibly not a no, and Luo Binghe can work with that.

"This one has made it clear that he values Shen-ge above all others." No, that's not the approach to take. Not here, with this version of his husband. "That is, you said that friends will do things like this, casually, sometimes. I assumed that you would be comfortable with something like this too, but please tell me if that is not the case."

He has left the bait out. He does not know if his husband will take it. He has put it on the table, made it his own request, given him an easy out. All of this makes it easy for Shizun to say no if he wants but, more importantly, gives him the ability to say yes out of a desire to help Luo Binghe and not needing to bring his own desires anywhere near it. Were this something he wanted, like a home-cooked meal by Binghe's hand, then the trap would have already snapped closed.

This, on the other hand, is a little more unclear. His husband has never been open to this proposal before. There is something that prevents him from wanting to. If Luo Binghe had the impression that it was due to some unpleasant memory or deep fear, then he would have already killed the System for even suggesting it and also would have found and hunted down whoever it was who dared to make his Shizun afraid.

It seems to, for the most part, be a preference. More than that, it has all the markings of another one of his Shizun's sexual hangups, similar to his reaction to having Luo Binghe lick his nipples, or pick him up during sex, or refer to himself as a "wife." So, this is not a brick wall, rather a potentially permeable barrier. Luo Binghe will never again hurt his husband during sex, or push past his genuine boundaries, but he will ask about things, and he will proceed if his husband indicates that he is consenting.

"I mean," Shen Yuan scoffs, and Luo Binghe would do well to focus on this conversation rather than get lost in his own thoughts about a husband who is not here. This is what it will take to get his husband back so, as long as Shen Yuan is willing, this is what is going to happen. There is nothing else to it. "I mean, yes, that is exactly what I was saying."

"Unless, of course, this would make you uncomfortable. Or if you would not want to go that far."

"What is this?" Shen Yuan snaps, and it is looking more and more like this will be happening today. This is more than Luo Binghe ever thought he would accomplish, walking through that door this afternoon. "I might as well be asking if you are comfortable! Are you trying to imply that I wouldn't be experienced with things like this?" He is not experienced with things like this. He has told Luo Binghe this before. "If I tell you that this is something casual friends do, then this is something casual friends do."

"As Shen-ge says."

"Don't talk like that." There is a fraught pause, and Luo Binghe is about to try diving back in, as it were, when Shen Yuan clears his throat again in an uncomfortable way. "But, you know, I know I said it earlier and everything," another long pause, "but, you know, I mean. This is casual. Because I'm straight and everything. So, you know, if you are uncomfortable with this, we also don't have to do anything."

How sweet, of his husband, to try and look after his feelings like this. As if there would ever be a time when Luo Binghe would not want to have sex with him. He smiles with the kind of feral, desperate hunger that he hopes conveys everything he is holding back for the sake of his husband's thin face. "I am, of course, willing as long as Shen-ge is as well."

"Well." Shen Yuan coughs, looks to the side, holds his leg in a little tighter to his body, stares up at the ceiling. He's so inexperienced and cute. Luo Binghe is going to ruin him for anyone else, and then he's going to have his husband back, and he won't have to worry about anyone else anyway. "Well, then, you know. I guess we can get on with it, then."

And that is all that Luo Binghe's self-control can take, actually. With the invitation, he practically lunges back across the couch, into his Shizun's space, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. This is not what he thought it would be. This is not what he thought would happen when he arrived here today. This is not what he thought his husband would say, when he made the offer. This is not what he thought Shizun would say, when told of his husband's feelings.

It will be okay, of course. All he needs to do is pleasure his husband in this way. The way that he has fantasized about since he was nothing more than a young cultivator, sleeping in the woodshed, still overcome by what it looked like the first time he saw a genuine smile on his Shizun's face. The first time he saw him disrobed and tied up.

He kisses him, kisses him, kisses him. And Shen Yuan is still so clearly new to all of this. Has never kissed anyone before and especially not like this, not for this long, with this much intensity and anticipation. Luo Binghe is happy to show him, happy to help him discover what parts of this body are sensitive, happy to help him become more confident in his own actions and touches.

Luo Binghe kisses him, laughs for a moment into the space between their mouths, kisses his way back down again, nipping at chin, at neck, at collarbone. The flush is still there, and he takes his time dragging his tongue along the border, savoring it all the more for how long he had to look at it without being able to do this. His husband's stomach in this body is soft and plush, and Luo Binghe takes a playful bite of it as he passes. Shen Yuan yelps, the skin jumps away from Luo Binghe's teeth, and he is giggling. Ticklish. The wonders never cease. Luo Binghe breathes out against the skin, making a terrible raspberry noise, and Shen Yuan is laughing, laughing, slapping playfully at the top of his head, and this is so good. It's so good, and he seems so happy and comfortable with it, all things considered, and why haven't they done this together yet? What has been stopping his husband, that does not stop Shen Yuan?

No matter. No matter and no answer available at this point in time. Not until Luo Binghe proceeds with this until its natural conclusion.

He kisses further down Shen Yuan's stomach, stopping to laugh, stopping to give his husband time to thread his fingers into his hair. Shen Yuan is sputtering a little in discomfort, the way his husband does when he is unsure what to do with himself in a situation and is trying desperately to pretend as though that is not the case. That's okay. Luo Binghe doesn't know what he's doing either. He's never actually had the chance to do this before, beyond his extensive imaginings and the several not-at-all-shameful-and-actually-very-practical times he might have practiced with a daikon in his youth. Shen Yuan has done it once or twice to him, and that was certainly quite pleasurable, no matter what he did. So, there is no reason to be nervous about this. Surely no matter what he does, it will be good for his Shizun.

Luo Binghe has never been anything less than an unambiguous teacher's pet and try-hard, for as long as he has known his Shizun. No one would argue with that. Is it so strange, then, to want to excel here as well?

Still, there is no way to improve without doing, as he has already applied himself thoroughly to every bit of technical study he has available to him.

Luo Binghe slides off the couch and situates himself comfortably on his knees. It is already unbearably erotic, actually, to be in a position of such obvious subservience and worship. The heat that lances through Luo Binghe's stomach, just from this view, so close and still needing to look up, is a reassurance. The interest is undeniably there. The desire is staggering. All he must do now is be so incredibly careful to take his time, not allowing for his passion and excitement to override the comfort of his partner. It is the thing that ruined his technique for so long, in the beginning.

"Where, ah," his husband hesitates, "where do you want my hands?"

"Shen-ge can-" Shen Yuan tugs harshly against a lock of Luo Binghe's hair in warning, as soon as he hears the tone and term of address, and Luo Binghe cannot help the whimper that wrenches out from him. Kneeling like this, preparing to serve his husband, having him tug his hair and instruct him on just what to say, Luo Binghe is vibrating with how much he is enjoying it. There is something buzzing and shifting under his skin. "Apologies. You can hold my hair, or pull it if you want. You can do whatever you want to me and I would be happy to take it."

Shen Yuan seems almost struck across the face with those words, sitting back against the couch with eyes blown wide. He does not, notably, look the way he does when he is about to call everything off and run away. It's for this reason that, rather than jumping into apologies and explanation, Luo Binghe tilts his head to the side and smiles at him with sunny innocence.

"Don't. Don't say something like that."

"It is important to communicate about what feels good and what does not. Is there anything that Shen-ge - ah - that you would like from me as well?"

"I don't have, like, anything in particular. Just, you know, go ahead with it, I guess? If you're still good?" Shen Yuan squirms a little awkwardly, and Luo Binghe cannot help but lean forward and take another sharp bite of his side, just to hear the way he yelps and jumps away. See? It's fine. This is Shen Yuan, and this is Luo Binghe, and this is his husband, even if he doesn't know it right now, and this is going to be fine. This is how he gets his husband back. This is what needs to happen.

Luo Binghe slides his hands down from where they grabbed at Shen Yuan for the bite. He presses his nose into the inner close warmth of his thigh and snuffles there for a second, reveling in the fact that he gets to have this, even if it is nothing like what he would have thought it would be.

Shen Yuan is holding himself as still as possible, but after Luo Binghe has lingered there for a second, his hands drift down to his hair like gently falling leaves in the autumn. Luo Binghe wants to encourage this behavior, so he leans hard into the touch and revels in the firmer pressure that comes as a result. When Shizun has wrapped his fingers deep into the roots of Luo Binghe's hair, hasn't used the grip to push him away, Luo Binghe begins his work.

"Have dreamed about this for so long, so long Shizun," he gasps, and maybe it was a slip-up to use that name, but Shen Yuan seems suitably distracted by the movement of Luo Binghe's hands. Some of the trousers in this world are hellishly complicated and difficult to get in and out of. Luo Binghe has learned how to do and undo those fastenings because he has found that he is particularly eye-catching to Shen Yuan when he has a few more straps, buttons, belts, and the like. Thankfully, his ever-wise husband tends to wear softer pants that fasten closed with a simple tie, similar to the underrobes that Luo Binghe has been wearing his whole life. It is a simple matter to pull the threads loose and luxuriate in the strangled whimper that his husband makes in response.

These pants do not open at the front, conveniently, the way that so many other pants in this world do, which means that, once Luo Binghe has undone the drawstring, he must reach around to Shen Yuan's lower back, reach his hands into the waistband of the pants and the underclothes beneath them, and lift just enough to create space for him to pull it through and out. Shen Yuan tries to make a secret of his reaction, but there is no disguising the noise that he makes when Luo Binghe uses the strength of his biceps alone, while kneeling on the floor, to lift the entirety of Shen Yuan's body, merely through a firm grip on his ass. His hands tighten viciously in shock at the base of Luo Binghe's curls, where they meet the back of his neck, and it sends such a glorious shower of shimmering sparks down his spine that he cannot help but falter for a moment before continuing. Luo Binghe would be lying if he said that he didn't allow for that sound to go directly to his ego and feed it in a way that it has been lacking for these past few months.

And then, well, then there is very little stopping Luo Binghe from pulling Shen Yuan's pants down the rest of the way, loosening them from his ass and sliding them down his legs, allowing his cock to spring free, still very clearly and eagerly interested in all current proceedings. Luo Binghe, suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that this is happening, that he is sitting here, about to pleasure his husband like this, about to get his husband back, has to take a moment to bury his face in the soft creamy skin of Shizun's exposed thigh. Just a moment, to get it all back together. To come to terms with the fact that this is how this will be happening for the first time, rather than with the person that he worked so hard to build up trust and intimacy with.

Just casual. Just a thing between friends. And that's fine, because that's how his husband had to justify everything that brought him pleasure, back when they were first figuring out their relationship together. It's the mask his husband still hides behind, at times, but always with the willingness for Luo Binghe to reach out and pluck it from his face.

There are, mortifyingly, tears gathering at the corners of Luo Binghe's eyes, and he'll be damned if the first time he tries to pleasure his husband this way begins with him crying all over his cock. He does not have time for this breakdown, because he is minutes away from solving this entire problem, anyway, and also because the one person that he would want to talk to about something like this is not available to him right now. There is nowhere to go but forward, and that is where Luo Binghe will be going. It is fine, that Shen Yuan says that this is simply a casual encounter between friends, because Luo Binghe knows better than to take his husband's words about things like this at face value. He gathers it all back inside, presses down the tears, commands his blood and body to take them away.

"Uh, Ruobing?" Shen Yuan seems to be kneading at his head again, rather than pulling the hair. "Is, uh, everything, like, okay? Down there?"

"Of course," he purrs, because this is what needs to happen, and he's happy to be here. This is what he has wanted for years. "Everything is perfectly fine, Shen-ge. This one was simply overcome by Shen-ge's beauty and required a moment to recover."

The flush grows deeper, spreads further, but Shen Yuan is still sitting on this couch, with his legs spread apart, completely unclothed, with Luo Binghe kneeling before him. There is no way for him to pretend as though he does not have a vested interest in these proceedings. No fan for him to hide behind in this world.

"Ha, well, okay."

And then, well, the soft fat that gathers in his inner thigh is right there, and Luo Binghe is already down here, and there's nothing against leaving a love bite, where no one will ever see it. Luo Binghe sets his teeth to worry against the delicate, pale skin and feels the way that Shen Yuan is already suddenly wound tight as a bowstring, bending over his head and pulling his hair even if it is without conscious thought. Luo Binghe purrs, somewhere deep in his throat, at the sensation and feels the trembling that shudders through Shen Yuan as a result.

He is so sweet, and so soft, in this body. And, most importantly, still his husband. The same as how Luo Binghe loved his Shizun in the mushroom body. The same as how he would love his husband, if some terrible accident were to occur and he were to lose his memory of Binghe forever. Of course, it is difficult to reach out for the well-established patterns of fondness and support that he has built over a decade with his Shizun and to instead be met with empty air. That is painful. But, most importantly, that does not mean that the soul that composes his Shizun is gone, and he must never forget to be thankful for that.

Even though his husband may not be in a position where he would be willing to marry him again, that does not mean that he would never reach a place like that. Surely, this alone is indication enough, the fact that he is currently allowing Luo Binghe here, between his legs.

Luo Binghe can feel the beautiful, glorious flush of his husband's soft skin between his teeth, the increasing warmth that comes with a rush of blood to the surface. He bites into it in the same way that he might bite into a fresh breast of chicken, when he had still been a starving child in the depths of the Endless Abyss. There is the same hunger here, the same animal instinct to burrow in with fangs and gnaw.

When he pulls away, there is a string of five bright red love bites lining the skin of each of Shen Yuan's inner thighs, and he has started to breathe with a sort of rasp on the end of each exhale, alternating between pulling tight at Luo Binghe's hair and smoothing his hands over where he must imagine there to be stinging pain.

And even if his husband does not remember him, at least there is this, the blatant mark of Luo Binghe's presence here. No one else would be able to see his husband like this without knowing that someone had been there first. Without knowing that, even if Shen Yuan does not remember it, there is someone who has laid a claim on him. The idea is so satisfying that he cannot help but run his tongue over them one more time, worry one of them between his teeth, pulling a high whine out of Shen Yuan's throat.

"It would seem that you are still comfortable, then, unless something has changed that this one is not aware of." Shen Yuan does not deign to respond to that with words, huffing in indignation and pushing uselessly at Luo Binghe's head. He lets it move him a little bit anyway, just enough for him to roll away and then roll back, pressing the teeth of his smile into the ravaged skin of Shen Yuan's thigh. "If that is the case, then this one would quite enjoy the opportunity to continue."

"Ah, yes, well. You, if you must."

"Thanking Shen-ge," he murmurs, and then there is nothing standing between himself and the main event. Shen Yuan's hands are still in his hair, right where Luo Binghe asked for them to be, and they move with him as he leans forward.

Shen Yuan's dick is a perfect size for the size of his body, perhaps a little bigger than one would expect, honestly, considering how small and compact the rest of him is. It strains red and wanting up toward his abdomen, canting toward the left slightly. Luo Binghe has a large mouth. He is able to open wide, and he had worked hard as a young disciple, with the aforementioned daikon, to learn how to swallow around something like this without choking and without needing to come up for air all the time.

He wraps one hand around the base of his husband's cock, confident in this motion from practice, though not with this body, and even that is enough. Shen Yuan lets out a long, wandering groan, and leans his head to flop against the back of the couch. His hands are loose in Binghe's curls, and what a wonder, to know that Shen Yuan is so responsive in this, so much more so than the body of Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe has a grip on it, and the tip is red and winking over the top of the wrap of his large hand, and there's really nothing more to do than to give it a welcoming little lick, just to get an idea of what this might taste like.

"Ha!" Shen Yuan shouts, in a sort of giggle-yell, and that's as good a sign as any to keep going. The taste is bitter and musky, but that was to be expected, and it is his husband, so of course Luo Binghe will be honored to take it into himself, no matter what the taste is. Besides, there is something about the huffing breath, the animal physicality of this, that has him trembling like a leaf. It's so much. It's so much to be here, right now, doing this, kneeling before his husband and letting him take his pleasure while Luo Binghe is nothing more than a servant to it.

The tug of hands in his hair is what grounds him, what holds him here, in this moment. It's an aching sting, a sharp counterpoint to all the wonderous thoughts in his head, and Luo Binghe is here. He's here, and he's holding Shen Yuan in his hand. He is here and he is pleasuring his husband, and there is nothing else that needs his attention right now.

The world narrows. The sounds of the room, of the city, grow quiet. There is only this moment, here, with Shen Yuan. Luo Binghe laves several wet kisses over the tip of his husband's cock before sucking it into his mouth like tanghulu, swirling his tongue across the top. Shen Yuan is groaning, whimpering, his voice travelling up and down the registers of several octaves. He's forgotten his strength, and there is nothing he could do to hurt Luo Binghe, but he has been pulling at the mass of Luo Binghe's black curls with what seems to be all of his might, pulling him in toward the crux of his thighs, ever tighter.

If that is not a welcome, then Luo Binghe does not know what else is.

He learned this much from watching his husband, actually, the few times that he tried to provide a similar service to Luo Binghe. Cocks are not easy to fit in one's mouth, without any kind of lubricant, and there is very little of that along the shaft, unless one is willing to be quite diligent with their spit and tongue.

Luo Binghe has always been a diligent student.

It is no different here. He kisses a teasing hello along the shaft of Shen Yuan's pillar, laves little kitten licks behind him, moving all the way down to nose at the hair curling around the base. He sucks one stone into his mouth, suckling at that too, rolling it behind his lips, and Shen Yuan has thrown his head back again, wrapped his hands around behind the back of Luo Binghe's head, as if to hold him in closer, bring him nearer to the center of his body.

Luo Binghe, more sure of his welcome than ever, moves to pay close attention to the other, and then kisses his way back up until he can press one peck to the winking tip of the head.

"Ruobing, Ruobing," Shen Yuan gasps, and Luo Binghe pretends it’s his name instead, his real name, and not some strange pretense he doesn't know how to break. It's fine. This is how he gets his husband back. This is what his husband is willing to offer him right now. He's still shaking. "Shitting fuuuuucking god-damn hell," Shen Yuan adds, very elegantly, as Luo Binghe decides he has been patient enough and fits the entirety of the head of his cock into his mouth. Another swirling lick of his tongue, because Shen Yuan had seemed to enjoy the pressure against the spongy tip, and the increase in pitch and volume indicates that this is still the case.

He slides down, the way slicked and somewhat tacky from his attentions earlier, but there is still a need to ease his way now, with careful application of lips and tongue. Luo Binghe is up to the job, as Shen Yuan's cock presses against the hard palate of his mouth, then further back, until it is brushing the back of his throat.

It has been several years since Luo Binghe has practiced something like this, but he was a motivated student, alone with his daikon, and he has control over his blood, his bodily functions. He will not choke at this.

And indeed, he does not.

“Ruobing, Ruobing," Shen Yuan is still gasping, rocking his head back and forth along the back of the couch cushion. Luo Binghe takes this as positive feedback, focuses in on the task, focuses on the warmth and lust in his husband's voice, and not the fact that it's still the wrong name. Not the fact that he can't stop shaking, just a little. "Fuck, ha, yeah, good boy." He sort of sighs out those last words, and there is no way for Luo Binghe to respond, with the fact that his mouth is somewhat occupied at this point in time.

And that, oh. Luo Binghe has known that he enjoys being praised in bed. He enjoys praise from his Shizun at any time of day, really, no matter the activity. He enjoys knowing that he is doing well, that his husband is pleased, that he continues to meet or exceed expectations. He has always enjoyed that.

Something about this, though, the way that his knees are aching against the hardwood floor, the way that he remains fully clothed while his Shizun is sprawled and flushed and indolent, the way that his own pleasure has been entirely neglected for that of his husband's. That, paired with the praise, knocks something a little bit loose in the connection between Luo Binghe's head and his body. Suddenly, it does not matter what his Shizun calls him, what the specifics of the situation are.

Luo Binghe is on his knees. He is working to pleasure his husband, and he is a good boy.

The tingling outside-himself feeling spreads like sparks from all his extremities into the very center of him, and Luo Binghe is nothing more than a vessel for his Shizun's pleasure. How could he ever desire to be anything but that?

He frees his hands from where they have been bracing the base of Shen Yuan's cock, reaches back to where Shen Yuan's hands are clasped at the back of his neck. Luo Binghe holds his hands over top of Shen Yuan's, unwilling to free his own mouth long enough to explain, and presses with his fingers until Shen Yuan has grasped on even tighter, until the strands of Luo Binghe's hair are held like a leash. Like a choke chain on a misbehaving and unpredictable dog.

He presses, hard, against that grip, using it to force his own head forward, and Shen Yuan swears again, under his breath, as the pressure makes his mouth bob on his dick. Luo Binghe hums at the deep satisfaction that wells up in him, just at the suggestion of this kind of guidance, and it triggers some kind of beautiful chain reaction. Shen Yuan's leg jerks up, spasms a little in shock at the feeling of Luo Binghe humming around him. It ends up thrown over Luo Binghe's shoulder, the knee right at the curve of his neck, another point of leverage. This staggered shift draws Luo Binghe closer again, and he cannot help but moan around Shen Yuan's cock, imagining what it is they must look like. The simple disciple, kneeling to pleasure his most beloved person, while that person pulls him forward, uses his mouth to take what he wants in the haze of his own pleasure.

That moan has Shen Yuan's hips jerking, reflex, and his hands pull tighter, and Luo Binghe feels as the head of his husband's cock, which had been pressed at the back of his mouth, shoves all the rest of the way in, past any resistance, until it is pressed into the back of his throat. Luo Binghe's nose is pressed tight to the scratchy curls of his Shizun's pubic hair, huffing deep breaths of the musk and sweat there, when he is able to snatch a bit of oxygen between thrusts.

"Wait, shit, Ruobing, pause a second."

Luo Binghe pauses, because he is a good boy, and he will always listen to his Shizun. Luo Binghe does not pull away, though, and simply allows his husband's pulsing erection to sit hard and throbbing against his tongue.

"We need to, fuck," a small, helpless thrust of his hips, back into the back of Luo Binghe's throat before pulling out to leak against his tongue. "We need to talk about, like, safe words, and shit. What if, ha, what if you need to stop, or something."

Luo Binghe still does not pull away. He has his husband warm and safe in his mouth, after years of wanting this, and there is no indication that he has stopped enjoying or wanting this, and so Luo Binghe is not going to pull away. He does, however, take the time to look up and make eye contact, which is enough for Shen Yuan's pupils to blow that much wider and to coax another swear out under his breath. When Luo Binghe is sure that he has Shen Yuan's attention, he reaches up to slowly gather a pinch of the soft flesh of his inner thigh between his fingers and twist. Shen Yuan yelps a little, in shock more than pain, and his cock twitches against Luo Binghe's tongue.

"Oh, yeah, okay, sure, I guess that works."

And that's all that Luo Binghe needs to hear. He lowers his hands back down, allows them to twist behind his back and out of the way. The haze that he had peeked out from under settles fully back over his mind, and he refocuses on the task at hand.

It is easy, now, to swallow around Shen Yuan's cock, bring it deep. He has practiced for this moment. He has spent his whole life preparing to be the perfect vessel for his husband's pleasure. And here, now, finally, he can do that. He can be the good boy that his husband wants him to be. He can kneel and service his husband however he sees fit to take from Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan had paused, drawn himself out of the fugue of it, but it is not hard to draw him back in. Luo Binghe is discovering the mechanics of this, the best way to maintain lubrication, the best way to maintain a rhythm as he pulls away on Shizun's pull back, maintains suction, swallows him back down and deep on the return, lets him bury himself as deep as he wants to go, move Luo Binghe's mouth wherever he sees fit, fuck into him until he is nothing more than a hole to be filled.

"Good, good, good, it's so good, Jiang Ruobing," Shen Yuan gasps, and that's enough. That's good. The taste of him is growing more bitter. His rhythm is turning jagged, and it is clear that he is close to his climax. This is good. This is what Luo Binghe is for. He can keep doing this. He is doing so good.

Shen Yuan's climax, when it arrives, seems to surprise him. There is no word of warning, not that Luo Binghe would ever do something ridiculous like pull away, in a moment like this. Instead, Shen Yuan seems to almost flinch forward, his hips pistoning to fuck into the back of Luo Binghe's throat one, two, three times, and then there is a pulse of tacky fluid, salty and bitter and barely tasted with how far back he is buried in Luo Binghe's throat. He releases one long, wandering ahhh that breaks in multiple places. Shen Yuan curls forward, wrapping his arms and legs and body all around where Luo Binghe's head is buried, until there is not a single part of him not held and squeezed.

Luo Binghe is good. He's a good boy. He did this, brought his Shizun pleasure with his mouth alone, and his own arousal is such a distant second to the buzzing peace that has come with this. He waits there, suckling, allowing his beloved to ride out the aftershocks of his orgasm across his tongue with little, shivering thrusts, until he has truly taken all that he might want from his Binghe.

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be repeated three times! User Luo Binghe has completed quest This New World Sucks. Current C-Points: 1252. Memories will be restored to User Shen Yuan, Bound Role Shen Qingqiu at this time.]

Luo Binghe startles a little at the sudden appearance of the bright blue box before his eyes, when he had eliminated the automatic information it provides several weeks ago. He doesn't even take the time to read it, head as empty as it is right now, simply waving at the air to make it go away and be something he can deal with later.

This matters more, more than any ridiculous celebration the System seems to be trying to throw. Shen Yuan is pushing away a little bit, at Luo Binghe's head, and he pulls off with a sense of bereavement.

"Ha, well, yeah man, that was pretty fucking, uh, um, ha-" Shen Yuan's tone of casual dismissal fades out into some kind of disorganized confusion, before his voice fades out entirely. There is a moment of silence, just a single moment, where Binghe continues to kneel before him and wait for further guidance and instruction, before he hears that beloved voice again, this time with a sound of panicked shock. "Binghe?!?"

And, suddenly, the world is slamming back into Luo Binghe's full awareness, with all the color and sound and feeling returning to him in a rush.

"Shizun?" he asks cautiously, and his voice comes out rough and raspy, ruined from his previous activities. Doesn't matter, couldn't matter less, shizunshizunshizun.

"Binghe, what on earth is-" but he doesn't have time to finish the sentence, because Luo Binghe is scrambling up his body, off his knees, throwing himself at his husband, slamming their mouths together and breathing deep at the way that his Shizun, despite the confusion and disorientation, relaxes immediately into it, kissing back and reaching up to hold Luo Binghe back the way that he always has. There are tears streaming down his face, and he can feel them, can taste them, even, as they catch at the place where their lips join. There is a sob building in his throat, juddering against the parts of him that are rubbed raw by friction, and he would never regret something like that with his husband but it's different now, it's all different now because his husband is back he came back to him and Luo Binghe is going to rip open his chest and crawl inside his ribcage so he can never leave him ever again.

"Binghe," his husband tries to ask, but Luo Binghe is not done kissing him in welcome yet. He presses into the words, swallows them down, keeps kissing, and his husband accepts the intrusion, allows the indignity with nothing more than a quiet chuckle between their mouths, kisses him back again. It is his husband, back, because Shen Yuan had never responded to him like this. Like he was welcome and comfortable and eager to touch.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe murmurs, mouth still pressed against his husband's while he says it.

"Yes, husband?" The brightest point in the universe says.

"Shizun," he says again, still pressed against him, using both arms and all his strength to pull him even closer.

"Yes, husband?" The only one that matters laughs.

"Shizun," he can barely manage to get the word out, caught and wrapped up as it is with all the sobs that are ripping through him.

"Yes, husband," his most desperately beloved coaxes, pulling gently at Luo Binghe's hair, just so that he is far enough away to show his face and the tears that decorate it. Shen Qingqiu shushes him gently, thumbing the tears away with the same motions that have comforted Luo Binghe since he was nothing more than a young adolescent, learning what it was to want someone like this.

When Luo Binghe does not stop crying immediately, when it becomes clear to his Shizun that these are not the same as the tears that he will bring out at the drop of a hat, Shen Qingqiu clicks his tongue in the warmest chastisement and pulls him back in. He tugs Luo Binghe down until his head is resting against his husband's breast and he has draped all of his larger body weight over top of him, on the couch again.

"This husband is assuming that his lord would not allow them to pass their time in such a way, if there were some pressing danger." Luo Binghe doesn't bother to respond, which his husband seems to take as a confirmation, because he hums to himself after a moment and taps his fingers in a gentle pattern against the nape of his neck. When Luo Binghe does nothing more than nuzzle in a little closer, Shen Qingqiu begins a gentle scratch with the tips of his fingers.

The press of his still-exposed skin is so lovely and soft and warm. Luo Binghe could live in this moment, right here and now, and never emerge again. He feels that way about almost any moment, when he is with his husband. And, thanking every good thing in the world, his husband simply holds him in silence for an uncountable length of time, stroking through his hair and scratching at his scalp while he waits for Luo Binghe to stop holding him quite so tightly, for the tears and weeping to stutter to a quiet halt. When that finally happens, he does not try to pull Luo Binghe back, but allows him to stay there, pressed close, while he starts the conversation.

"This one remembers, now, all that has happened in these past few weeks. It was disorientation from suddenly remembering everything that caused this one to be confused, for a moment." And that's a relief, because Luo Binghe would not know how to put any of this into words, if his Shizun did not remember. "I am going to assume, though, that there were many parts of the story I was missing, considering the fact that you and I are here at all."

"Shizun vanished," Luo Binghe grumbles, because that was the start of this all, and also is an accurate summary, in some ways, of the last two months completely. "What could this husband do but follow him to wherever he may have gone?"

"Yes, and what a lovely job my husband did, finding me in this world as well as every other." There is a soft kiss laid at the point of his forehead where his hairline begins, and more tears leak from the corners of his eyes at such a familiar touch. "But this one still wonders how it was either of us came to be in this world in the first place."

"Shizun vanished from his very bed, from within his husband's arms, in this lowly one's inner castle. When his husband awoke, he was frantic and searched day and night for his lost love. When even that proved fruitless, there was-" and here Luo Binghe pauses, starts to pick around his words carefully. The System has already made it quite clear what would happen if he were to reveal it, and he is unwilling to lose his chance at bringing his husband home safely, now that they are so close to regaining everything that was lost. "An entity appeared to this lord and offered him the opportunity to try and recover both his husband and his husband's memories."

"An entity?" His husband, for all that he appears to be a face-changer and all that he can be spoilt and lazy and a thousand other wonderful things, has never been a bad fit for the scholar's peak. Shen Qingqiu is relentlessly curious, especially in the face of an unfinished story or a mystery with missing pieces. His husband, when set before something nonsensical, is scathing in his critique and relentless in his pursuit of knowledge. It is one of the infinite things that Luo Binghe loves most about him, and he can see the spark of it enter Shen Qingqiu's eye now. "What entity has the power to travel between dimensions like this?"

"This lord would imagine it to be the same sort of entity that would allow his husband to travel between worlds previously. Unless this is not the case?" He pauses there and watches the inspiration light behind his husband's eyes.

"When I returned to this world-" and his husband pauses even here, seeming hesitant to confirm that much of Luo Binghe's theory. As if waiting for some kind of consequence to strike from above. When it does not, he exhales a shaky breath and continues, each word chosen with care and precision. "I did not make the choice to do so, unless this is the only memory that continues to elude my grasp. It sounds, though, as though this one's husband did not have a similar experience."

They sit in silence for a moment, and there is clearly something large hanging in the air between them. Luo Binghe has not seen his husband afraid in years, not since the times when he was still fleeing from Luo Binghe himself. Perhaps he was afraid at Maigu Ridge as well, but Luo Binghe's memories of that time are red-tinged and hazy. He has not seen his husband afraid in many years, and it sits differently on this version of his face, so it takes this long for Luo Binghe to realize that is indeed what he is seeing. Something here, something in the topic of conversation, is scaring his husband enough to be this hesitant. It makes Luo Binghe want to rip the world to shreds until that expression leaves his face.

"Would this...entity still have access to my husband, even in this world?" Careful, careful, his husband is being so careful right now. Luo Binghe is going to kill whatever made his husband look like this. As soon as he obtains all the information his husband is willing to bestow upon him.

Luo Binghe is hesitant to answer back, now, catching his husband's caution like a virus, and staggeringly aware of that earlier warning, that revealing the System would result in his immediate return to his universe, without his husband or his husband's memories. Has that changed since he completed his "mission"?

"This lowly one would assume that, should an Entity have the power to travel between realms, it may also have the power to observe the one that it sent, in this other world." He waits for the screen to appear again, flashing and red and too close to his face. When it does not, he finds himself more tense rather than less so. His husband's eyes are shrewd and focused on every minute twitch in his expression. Are they speaking of the same thing? Does his Shizun know of the System? It would presumably be so, given that it seems to frequently refer to Shen Yuan as a "user" and indicates extensive knowledge of both faces he has used.

"This teacher wonders, if he and his husband are speaking of the same entity, whether it may be safer to delay conversation until they are returned to their home." He can see the effort it takes, for Shizun to say something like this, rather than continuing to chase down the information and solve the mystery immediately. "Unless, of course, Binghe believes there to be some danger to following that plan, or has information this teacher does not."

"Shizun is wise," Luo Binghe murmurs, and Shizun scoffs, making a motion to hide behind a fan that he is not holding in this world. Luo Binghe takes advantage of the fact that his face is not covered, that this body of his blushes so much easier than the other, and leans in to steal another kiss from his lips.

And then his husband's body turns to stone beneath his hands. Luo Binghe feels himself snap to attention, watching for the threat. When the room around them remains still, his qi flares out to sense nothing, his blood mites find no sign of threat, he is able to relax smug in the knowledge that there is nothing more causing them danger than the rising blush on his husband's face.

"Binghe, where are my clothes?" If he thinks the sudden, stern tone he has taken on is going to discourage his husband, then the sudden predatory smile and the twitch of his cock against his hip will hopefully dissuade him of that notion quickly enough for Luo Binghe to take some liberties. "You ridiculous man, where did you put my shirt!" Shen Yuan's smaller body starts to wiggle beneath Luo Binghe's bulk, trying to look around and see where Luo Binghe ended up throwing the shirt (it went over the counter and into the kitchen. There's no way he'll be able to see it from here). Luo Binghe makes himself as heavy as possible and gives exactly no effort toward helping.

"This lowly one will be happy to help his husband find his clothes. Or, if his husband would prefer, this one could join his husband so that he will not feel uncomfortable." Shizun slaps a little at the bulk of Luo Binghe's bicep, a fond reprimand, and there is nothing Luo Binghe can do to disguise the way this, too, makes his erection twitch.

Shizun gives up after a few more squirms, flops his head back onto the couch and allows Luo Binghe to kiss a reverent trail down the tendon in his neck.

"This husband," he starts, and then stops himself, and this is when Luo Binghe knows it is important to listen. He continues with his soft pecks, drawing a necklace of them on his love. His husband is more wont to speak when there are no eyes on him, when he does not feel as though someone is waiting on him. "Before this husband regained his memories-" Another pause. Binghe presses a smile into the crook between his beloved's shoulder and neck and nuzzles in, blowing lightly over the places he has kissed. "That is, ah, it seems as though Binghe was very intent on engaging in certain...activities. That we have not done before."

"This Binghe loves any activity with his husband."

"Hush." A gentle rap on his head. "What I mean to say is, this one did not know his husband...desired such things. Before." His husband is naked and in a strange body in a strange world. His husband does not find conversation or vulnerability to be a simple thing. Luo Binghe sits back up, reaches down to the floor to hand Shen Qingqiu his underthings, makes his way to the kitchen to retrieve the shirt.

When Shizun sees what he is doing, he rolls his eyes in exasperation, a mannerism that Luo Binghe has only come to see and understand in this world, but he quickly takes the articles of clothing and dons them, seeming much more settled once he has done so. Luo Binghe's own arousal is flagging. While he has always been the type to easily return to that place, it is clear that this is not the moment for such things. When Luo Binghe returns to the couch, he leans against the opposite side and opens his arms. Shen Qingqiu puts up a nominal fight and resistance, but is soon laying atop Binghe instead, with his husband's arms wrapped around him and his face hidden from view, nestled in at Luo Binghe's neck. He can still feel the hot flush of embarrassment against his skin. This form is so much more prone to blushing. So much smaller. He could wrap him up and hold him with one arm, Binghe thinks. What a precious thing, to hold every single thing that matters within his arms.

"This Binghe hopes that his husband knows that he desires any and every thing his husband is willing to give to him." The flush grows hotter, but no sound of resistance comes. "While it is true, that he has desired such things as that before, his husband did not seem to share such desires."

"Well," sputters Shen Yuan, "this husband has always thought that Binghe would prefer to be the one, ah, in charge, as it were." He is hiding his face, not looking, barely able to get the words out. The obvious difficulty his husband is having is the only reason that Luo Binghe does not react in a more extreme manner.

"This husband often wonders where it is that Shizun finds such ideas." He does not pressure Shen Yuan to show his face, but nuzzles his nose in among the short hair that he can reach. "This husband loves nothing more than to take care of his most beloved person, in whatever way that person may want. If my Shizun would enjoy being looked after in such a way, how could this one do anything but thank him for the opportunity?"

Silence reigns for minutes after, and Luo Binghe resigns himself to the conversation stopping there. It was already far outside his husband's usual comfort zone. And then, into the silence, he hears his husband speaking with even more care than when he was trying to avoid the wrath of some great being that may be listening in.

"In that book. That book, Proud Immortal Demon Way."

"Ah. Yes, husband spoke of this book at length."

"Hush. In that book. The Luo Binghe of that world. He never. He was always the one in charge. When he was. Yeah." That is all of the information that Shizun seems willing to provide at this time, but it is more than enough for Luo Binghe to begin putting the pieces together. This other version of him, with 3,000 wives and no idea of what it is he is missing. Yes, he does sound like the kind of man who would be unwilling to serve another. There is no room for pity or empathy, not when Luo Binghe is almost certain that he has met this other version of himself. And did not like what he found.

"It seems that this other version of me may have influenced my husband in many ways, over the years." He cannot bring himself to make the statement into a question. There are things, ideas, suspicions that have been growing in the back of his mind since that first day, when Shen Yuan was so eager to recount the plot of that horrible novel. Ideas about the Endless Abyss. About his husband's fear of him. About the way he ran. The way he always seemed to know what things to avoid doing. There are things in this world that, when Luo Binghe comes across them, they send him back to the abyss or the years before his kind Shizun arrived. He has issued edicts in the demon realm to avoid having to come across such things.

He has never once had to tell Shizun to avoid things that make the same sort of sharp cracking noise that a whip makes against soft flesh. He has never had to ask his husband to make a sound when he approaches from behind, so as to not catch Luo Binghe off guard. He is starting to suspect that this is not only because their hearts sing the same song, but perhaps because his husband knew of these parts of him long before they even came to be.

"This husband also could not help but notice that Shen Yuan seemed to very much enjoy learning more about the adventures of this other version of me." He cannot help the teasing tone, and can feel the subsequent burrowing of his husband closer into his neck. This is safer. He can tease, here, about this. While his husband may be embarrassed about his previous interest, this is not the same kind of ripped-open vulnerability that they have been engaging in. "From the decoration in this place, this one may assume that Shen Yuan had quite the appreciation indeed, particularly for this one's physical form."

"He was an interesting character!" Shen Yuan wails. "He had potential! Just because I was interested in him as a character, it does not mean I was attracted to him!"

"Is my husband saying but he is not attracted to this Binghe?" Luo Binghe allows his voice to tremble, a tear to rise to his eyes. "And here I thought I had finally come across the proof that my husband appreciates me in the same way I do him."

And then, well, there's a little bit of a terrible thought. Because Luo Binghe looks almost the same as that other version. Except for the parts where that other version is more willing to wear his demonic traits proudly. Except for the parts where he smiles with blood spattered across his face and bloodlust in his eyes. Except for all the parts where he doesn't look like this Luo Binghe at all.

He doesn't say a word, and yet, Shizun still seems somehow able to tell, when it has shifted from light-hearted teasing to yet another one of his husband's insecurities.

"I only liked him as a character. I was never attracted to him or anything." Shizun mumbles the word into Luo Binghe's chest. He's clearly trying to help, but it's not having the effect that he might think. That's the tone of voice that his husband uses when he is claiming to not be attracted to someone he is attracted to. Luo Binghe has dedicated much of his life to being able to identify this particular tone. He cannot bring himself to agree, and the silence where his acquiescence would usually fall is glaring. "You can't be jealous of an alternate reality version of yourself. That doesn't make any sense."

"I think Shizun will find that this one can."

"You've already met that version of you. I have too. And. Well. I chose you, didn't I?"

It would be mere scraps in some relationships, perhaps. But Luo Binghe doesn't care about any of those other relationships. He knows his husband. He knows what incredible vulnerability it took for him to say something like that. Luo Binghe cuddles him closer and presses three quick smacking kisses to the top of his head.

"Shizun likes this version of me better?"

"Who's fishing for compliments now?"

"Even so, if he could say it just this once."

"This is the version of you that your husband married, is it not? I have met that other version as well."

There is a balloon of warmth growing in Luo Binghe's rib cage. This joy, this love that he worried he might never get to feel again in quite this way. He loves his husband with every single piece of himself. He’d tear himself apart to find new pieces to offer, if he thought that his husband would accept them.

"If that's the case, then perhaps husband will not assume that this version of his disciple wants the same things as that other, terrible version."

"Perhaps," Shen Qingqiu pauses, clears his throat, tries to start again. "Perhaps this husband could work harder to ask what it is his own husband would want. Making assumptions based on that terrible book has never seemed to work."

"Husband can always ask for the things he wants as well. This one will always listen to what it is his husband has to say."

"Ah, my face may be too thin for that."

"Did husband not just say that so many of these problems come from assumptions? If this lowly one were to assume based only on behavior and reactions, he might assume that husband also enjoys when the roles are reversed in such a way."

Shen Yuan slaps gently at Luo Binghe's bicep, but does not protest with actual words. Binghe cannot help the sharp smile that grows across his face at that. From his husband, that is a ringing endorsement. He will be sure to listen closely and learn well.

"This husband also cannot help but notice that, if Shizun likes this version best, he must like this one quite a lot. It is hard to imagine a house decorated like this to be the lesser version of his regard."

"Binghe," Shizun hisses, seemingly becoming overwhelmed to his limit with Luo Binghe's shameless words, to the point that there is nothing left for him to do but bite at Luo Binghe's chest in reprimand. This does not deter Luo Binghe. This may, in fact, cause a terribly indecent moan to rip its way out of his chest and linger in the air between them. Shen Yuan pulls away from where his face is hidden, staring down at Luo Binghe in shock. Luo Binghe does not feel any sort of shame for the way that he desires his husband, and the smug smile he shows in return makes that abundantly clear. He has been trying to find ways to convince his husband to be a little rough with him since long before the day they were married.

They stare at each other, like that, for a long moment, Shen Yuan's eyes dipping down to catch where Luo Binghe's fangs peek through, just as they always have since they met in these bodies. Luo Binghe is going to have a conversation with his husband about that too, when he has the chance. Slowly, the heat of the lust and embarrassment in their gaze fades, until they are left smiling softly at each other, and his husband, so small in this body, nestles back in out of care rather than an effort to hide.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe calls, only to experience the bone-shaking joy of hearing his husband call him back, "Binghe."

"Is there anything else that Shizun wishes to do in this world, before he returns home? Or, rather, does Shizun wish to return home at all, or would he prefer to stay in this strange world instead?" Luo Binghe's arms tighten around his husband with that question, and he forces himself to loosen them again. It does not work to trap his husband. He has tried that. He must simply hold him when he can and trust that he will not run away.

There is a long pause while his husband thinks. Luo Binghe allows it. He holds down the tears that threaten. It does not mean that his husband is reconsidering their life together. This is likely difficult for him, if this is the world that he is originally from. If this is a place he left without the time to properly plan for a goodbye. Perhaps he will want one now. That is not a bad thing.

"I think-" another pause, briefer this time. "I think that the only thing I might want would be to see my family again. But, well, I don't know if they still think I'm alive or if they already know about my, ah, passing." This time, Luo Binghe does nothing to stop himself from tightening his grip. His husband is speaking of his own death as if that should be something understood and accepted by the both of them. He has done this before, in their world, when referring to his past self-destruction, but this lends some clarity as to why that might have been such an easy topic for him, if that was also the prerequisite for his ability to change his face. Perhaps that is part of why it has always been so much easier for him to talk about.

"This husband is here, Binghe." A soft pat against his bicep. A soft kiss to the hollow above one of his collarbones. The gentle ways that his husband provides comfort. Luo Binghe tucks them away inside his heart and tries to bring himself back to the conversation.

"This one is here, as well."

"Good." Another soft kiss. "I would like to see my siblings, I think, before I leave. But I don't think that we can talk to them. That wouldn't be fair, if they have already grieved me."

"Shizun can do whatever it is that he wants. The others can manage it on their own." Luo Binghe grumps, because he is still having trouble hearing all of this talk about the death of his most beloved person, and also because he truly lives his life by that belief. It's just that he doesn't always say it out loud.

"They are your family too, you know." There is a shyness in the way that his husband says this, as if he is hesitant to say such a thing. As if he has not just laid a paralyzing blow to Luo Binghe's chest. "We're married, so they are your family as well."

Luo Binghe has not had family in so long. The only person he considers family passed away decades ago, and he only had her in his life for a few years at that. Of course, he has met his biological father much more recently, but he has never particularly counted as an actual father or family member. His family is his Shizun. Luo Binghe had always...assumed that his Shizun was without family, just the same as he is.

And, well, in a way, he certainly is. It seems that his husband has family, multiple family members, but if they are living in this world and he has lived in Luo Binghe's world for the past decade, then his family is, in a way, just as dead as Luo Binghe's has been. To suddenly be struck with this idea: that Luo Binghe has family-in-law, is something he had never known to prepare for, and suddenly Luo Binghe is aching with the desire to see them as well, even if only from a distance.

And so they do.

Luo Binghe helps his husband get fully dressed again, allows his husband to help him do the same. They put themselves back into order, covering each other in light kisses as they go, pausing at the end for Luo Binghe to hold him close and savor being near a husband that remembers him again. And then, well, it is a simple matter to find each of their family members. Shen Yuan shows Luo Binghe how their family is, apparently, quite well known and, if one has the desire to do so, one can use the clever Internet to find updates on where each member of the family is at most points in time.

They go to see Shen Yuan's da-ge first, finding the restaurant where he is meeting business associates for lunch and watching him through the wide windows while he conducts his business. He entertains many other people who carry themselves with the familiar body language of power. He seems like the kind of warm and firm individual who easily charms others into thinking it was their idea to do the things he wants. Luo Binghe can see similar hand gestures here, things he had always seen as unique to his husband alone, but here it is again, mirrored over onto a completely different man, because they are family. Because they learned them in the same childhood home.

After that, they go to find his er-ge, who is apparently a professor in this world. The room in which he conducts his lesson is large and many-tiered, and they are able to slip into the back row of seats without catching the notice of anyone else in the room. Luo Binghe is able to marvel, here, as well, over the similarities. He has watched his Shizun teach with the riveted eyes of obsessive first love, and so he is easily able to note the ways that they explain things, the use of metaphor and quiet checks for understanding. They teach in much the same way, because they are family. Because they learned how to teach from the same parents.

The final visit is to Shizun's meimei, and that is a different sort of visit altogether. It seems as though she spends much of her time making videos, similar to the ones that Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe have spent their time watching together in the past two months. Shizun explains that this is not like the other things they have watched, that the video they are watching is a vision of what his meimei is doing at this exact moment, and that other people are watching as well, and able to comment in the words on the side of the video.

I am so very honored to meet you. You remind me of someone whom I love very much. It is my dearest wish that you live a fulfilling and loving life. Luo Binghe types, in what Shen Yuan has explained is a way to talk, with her seeing him in the disguise of an anonymous "guest" rather than the person that he is. When she sees the message, Shen Yuan's meimei, Luo Binghe's meimei, holds her hand to her chest and smiles warmly and kindly out of the screen, and it is the same warm and loving smile that his Shizun bestows upon the disciples that he cannot help but love.

I miss you. I will always miss you. I hope you are well. His Shizun types, in disguise as the very same "guest," and her smile goes a little funny but no less warm. It is the same, because she is family. Because she may have learned how to smile from watching her brother.

And then, when that is complete, his Shizun stands in the center of his apartment, tears in his eyes, and steps close into Luo Binghe's arms.

Luo Binghe holds him close, so so so close. The System, when he calls for it, comes easily.

[Would User Luo Binghe like to return to his original world at this time?]

The System will be returning both this Lord and his husband, correct?

[That is correct! User Luo Binghe has completed the bonus chapter mission In Another Life and can now return to his original universe, accompanied by User Shen Yuan, Bound Role Shen Qingqiu.]

[Would User Luo Binghe like to return to his original world at this time?]

Luo Binghe holds his husband close in his arms. He reads the messages over again, one more time, to make sure there is no way that this will result in his leaving without his Shizun.

Mentally, he tells the System yes.

And then the world around them shatters into glowing blue squares. Luo Binghe holds tightly to the most precious person in his grasp, as the rest of the world spins around them, tearing itself to pieces and rebuilding from the ground up.

When the world stabilizes, and it's possible to see again, Luo Binghe is standing on the forest floor, just below where he was flying when he accepted the mission.

In his arms is his husband, back in the body of Shen Qingqiu. Tears are still wet on his face. When Luo Binghe makes a noise of inquiry, he looks up, loops his arms around Luo Binghe's neck, and kisses him full on the mouth. It's more initiative than he usually takes, and Luo Binghe cannot help the sigh of contentment that leaves him as he wraps his arms around his husband's waist, pulls him that much closer.

They will figure the rest of it out. Luo Binghe still wants to find out exactly how much of what happened was different due to the influence of Shen Yuan and what sort of things were things that his husband may have wanted all along but never said, with such a thin face. He still wants to know more about this family that now belongs to both of them, that both of them have lost. He wants to know how often they cross his husband's mind, what it would take for them to find a way to visit again, in a way that would cause more good than harm. He still wants to know all the things that his husband knew about him from that terrible novel, and where it was wrong, and where it led him astray. He wants to understand why his husband seemed to so easily accept the existence of an omniscient being that was providing quests and monitoring Luo Binghe's words. He wants to know if the suspicion he has been nursing since then is true and, if so, how that has played a role in their lives these past years.

There is so much he wants to know. And they will talk about it. They have time.

For now, though, Luo Binghe simply wraps his arms closer around his husband, holds him that much tighter, and lets the rest of the world pass by. They will figure it out, when it's time, together.

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

Not sure if you've done it before because blog searches just don't work but how would umbreon work as a pet?

[You may have seen it already, but I’ll take any chance I can to link to the post containing my index doc, which works much better than blog searches here! I’ll put it at the bottom of this post.]

An umbreon might make a good pet for some owners, but they are definitely one of the weaker options when it comes to eevee evolutions. It really depends on the owner and what they can reasonably handle.

To begin with, however, like most pokémon of the aforementioned category, umbreons are a decent size to be a house pet. At three feet tall they’re certainly on the bigger size when compared to many real-world dogs and cats, but that’s pretty reasonable when compared to a lot of the pokémon we cover here on the blog. Now, when taking into account the pokédex data on this species, it’s difficult to tell if they tend to be friendly. There’s no mention of them living with humans or other umbreons, and by all means they seem to be stealthy, solitary predators who prefer to hide and use ambush tactics when hunting prey in the dead of night (Ruby/Sapphire, Emerald). It’s said that when these pokémon move around in the dark, the curious yellow rings on their fur glow, “striking fear into the hearts of anyone nearby” (Silver). This could be an involuntary response on the observers part, in which case an umbreon would make a terrible pet, but I’d be willing to wager that this glow is not intended as sort sort of psychological attack since it also occurs when they are simply excited (Crystal).

Umbreon care seems like it would be fairly straightforward… so long as they are in a good mood. Umbreons, like other species in the eevee evolution line, are natural predators. This could make them pretty dangerous, given their size, so I would suggest an abundance of caution and a keen awareness of their body language and mood at all times. Given their highly active lifestyle in the wild, umbreons need a lot of play time and enrichment: a sedentary pet they are not. Be prepared to offer them lots of opportunities to get their wiggles out! Keep in mind that this species is nocturnal (Ruby/Sapphire, Emerald, Diamond/Pearl), and will thus need the most attention at night; they’d be best fit for a night owl’s household.

There’s one strange quirk about umbreon biology that really hurts their pet ranking score, and it’s not something that can be easily gleamed just by looking at them. When agitated or angered, umbreons can actually spray poisonous sweat from their pores (Gold). This is, obviously, a huge problem. Not even the best pet owner can keep their pet from *ever* getting agitated, especially during stressful events like visits to the vet. This could pose a huge problem, though we don’t know exactly the potency of this poison. While an umbreon may be able to control the spraying of their sweat, it doesn’t seem like they can control the sweating itself, which could leave furniture, pet carriers, etc. covered with poisonous material. This is a factor that would make this pokémon an ill-fit for many owners.

Umbreons are, like I said earlier, pretty dangerous even without this sweat. These are large, agile hunters, who can use physical moves like Bite and Assurance to take down prey as easily as they can use special moves like Dark Pulse.

Overall, while an umbreon could make a pretty good pet for some owners, they are generally-speaking not a great choice, especially when other options, like an eevee, are available in most regions. I’d suggest potential umbreon adopters consider the risks before jumping into an adoption.

The Index:

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

SHADOW KNIGHT HEADCANONS

aka things from my rewrite

idea from @xerith-42 <- <- <-

————————————————————

Appearance:

They have pointed ears. They’re not as large as an elf’s or half elf’s ears, really just the size of a human’s ear… But pointed.

They’re skin sparkles. (Edward who?) Idk why I added this I just like the idea of Laury lookin like he’s rocking body glitter 24/7 ig. It’s most noticeable in direct sunlight.

They’re eyes are reflective, like a cats, and often glow in the dark. They’re eyes also appear more… empty… than a regular person’s. Almost uncanny.

When in their full Shadow Knight form, their irises become red, and the whites of their eyes turn black. The skin around their eyes also becomes red and cracked, almost irritated looking.

They have fangs. Much like this v

They each have a scar pertaining to the way in which they died. (Assuming it wasn’t something like poison). It is usually a dark grey or black color, but not always.

When they are premature, their fingers and toes are blacken. This is called the corruption. Each SK has at least some, but the amount tells you how long they resisted gaining their immortality. The longer they go without gaining their immortality, the further up the corruption creeps, only stopping at the shoulders and hips.

They have Rune Scars and Tattoos. The tattoo is located on their palms and is the source of their SK abilities. It’s embedded with the curse of binding so it cannot be removed or carved out. The scars are on their face, three claw marks on each cheek. These are referred to as The Tears. These scars enhance their SK abilities.

While in their full SK form, their scar runes turn black and emanate pure darkness. Their fingernails also grow into claws that are extremely sharp and nearly unbreakable.

All SKs appear pale, no matter their skin tone. They have no red/pink/orange undertones bc their blood technically no longer flows.

They often appear very ridged or mannequin like. Standing either too perfectly or too hunched over. Again, uncanny.

Because of all these physical traits, Shadow Knights are very easy to spot, assuming you know what to look for. Many trying to hide or blend in, will hide their heads, faces, and hands.

THE… OTHER STUFF:

Their body temperature fluctuates quite a bit. Generally, theyre cold to the touch, because yk their dead. But when they feel strong emotions like anger or happiness their temp rises, possibly to the point where they feel feverish. The only emotions that actively make them colder are sadness and fear.

Their temp also rises when the Calling comes a knocking. Rising hotter and hotter the longer they try to ignore or fight it.

^ Inspired by a convo with @xerith-42

It’s impossible to sleep in the Nether, though the reason is unknown. Because of this, Shadow Knights don’t require sleep. They still can sleep, but it’s not a necessity. Premature Shadow Knights however, still become tired and can still feel the physical repercussions of having no sleep.

Similarly, SKs also no longer need to eat or drink. However again, prematures do. Since not much grows in the nether, they’re forced to eat Nether Wart. It’s essentially a very tough, charcoal tasting mushroom. It’s their only source of food OR water as water cannot be found anywhere else in the Nether.

While they’re in the Nether, their blood becomes cold to accommodate for the extreme heat. Because of this they need to be careful about regulating their emotions while in the nether so their blood doesn’t overheat.

Nether time is faster than Overworld time. A year in the Nether is only a few months in the Overworld, if that.

Premature SKs can be killed the same ways a human can be, due to their lack of immortality. A full SK however, is a bit more tricky. Their physical form can be killed, though it is more difficult due to a combination of things, but they respawn. If their body dies, is will *poof* disappear and reappear back in the Nether on an alter. The amount of time it takes to respawn depends on the severity of their injury. A full SK can only be permanently killed with an enchanted Netherite weapon (hehe minecraft reference). These are extremely rare and hard to come by. …Zenix has one…

When a PMSK (Premature Shadow Knight) is trained, they fight against real, full SKs. They could very well be killed during their training, call it natural selection. The PM is expected to kill the Full SKs they’re fighting against.

Soul sand houses the souls of innocent lives taken by Shadow Knights. Their souls not only add fuel to their power, but also gives strength to the Shadow Lord/Shad.

In Shad’s eyes, someone with magicks or brains is often more valuable than someone who is physically strong. Though physical strength is needed in order to be a SK, if they are not particularly clever and they have no magicks, they aren’t very useful. Often used as simple pawns or sacrifices.

The first ever Shadow Knight was some random guy named Randal. He didn’t fit any of the criteria, in fact he was just some farmer who ate a bad potato and suffered the consequences. Shad only resurrected him to experiment a bit.

A Shadow Knight’s armor isn’t actually armor. It’s more like a shell that pops out when their body recognizes it’s needed. Or at least when it thinks it does. These shells are generally identical, but they do each have some variations depending on the person and their alignment. Their weapons are an extension of this shell as well, and can be any hand held weapon. Weather is a sword, hammer, mace, or even daggers. Swords are just most people’s go-to. Along with this, they cannot drop their weapons as they are basically a part of them. The only way to rid of it is by… sucking?? it back into the shell. Think of venom. But less… slimy.

They’re impervious to fire/lava. At any stage, full or pm.

Oooookay that’s all I got

Thanks for reading this far love ya mwah mwah

[leejenowrld]

I HAVE QUESTIONS!!!

for yn and jeno

- what songs do you dedicate to each other? like what songs do you think of when you think of the other?

- is there anything you regret (sexually?)

- how does it feel when you see the other upset and mad?

- do you get along with each others friends?

- who’s louder in bed?

- jeno, what’s your opinion on what seoyeon did to yn that one time?

-

<3333 i love this

what songs do you dedicate to each other?

yn - i love you by little mix. it’s a strong love ballad. i really resonate with the lyrics. it’s emotional, it’s powerful, it makes me happy, it makes me cry, it gives me life. the song perfectly encapsulates what it’s like to love lee jeno and what it feels like to be loved by him

jeno - here with me by dVvd, i don’t care what happens in my life, as long as i’m with yn then it’s all that matters. i just want her by my side, with me. we belong with each other.

(jeno) nothing on you by bruno mars, i wanna be yours, moments by one direction,

(yn) pretty boy the neighbourhood, style by taylor swift, glue song by beabadoobaee

is there anything you regret sexually?

yn - hm, i mean, not really? we always have fun and we always talk about what we should explore/what we liked and what we didn’t really like.

jeno - fuck no.

how does it feel when you see the other upset/mad?

yn - jeno gets upset very rarely. i’ve seen him cry like 3 times in the years we’ve been together. and each time killed me. if i think about it now then i will sob. you know that something hits jeno hard when it causes him to cry. all i could do was comfort him and hold him as he sobbed into my shoulder :( he cried himself to sleep all three times. i tried to hide my tears from him and not show him that i was getting upset but we ended up crying to each other all 3 times :( i want nothing in the world to ever hurt my man. like i will become violent at anyone or anything that makes him feel that way

and when he’s mad? oh he gets mad a lot. it’s not that difficult to calm him down for me, i’ve become quite good at it. i sit attentively and listen to him as he lets it out and then i actively calm him down, kisses on his temple, holding his hands, rubbing his shoulder, rubbing his cheek with my thumb, whispering softly to him. it’s all the small things that calms him down. he becomes very overwhelmed with anger and it’s gotten him into many fights, verbal and physical. he isn’t afraid to defend what’s right and that’s what i love about him, his priorities are so strong <3 there hasn’t been a time where he’s been in the wrong or he’s picked a fight for the wrong reasons. he doesn’t ever pick them. he’s mature.

jeno - yn gets quite sad and emotional, she probably cries in my arms every week and it hurts me every single time. she’s very sensitive and i don’t wanna call my girl weak but she takes a lot of things to heart, she feels everything and she feels it a lot. she can’t deal well with confrontation or any sign of misunderstandings and she just bursts open in my arms and lets everything out :( when she’s upset she begins hyperventilating and sobbing really loudly, she can’t get her words out and she shakes. so the first thing i do is drop everything for her and just hold her, put her in my arms, massage her hair, kiss her forehead, look into her eyes and whisper sweet things to her. i just wait for her to calm down before we start talking. it takes a while sometimes, sometimes she’s able to recover quickly. whichever one it is, i’m always so proud of her. she’s so strong. we always talk about what’s on her mind and what’s made her upset and i try my best to guide her through it and help her on what she has to do, i try to give her good advice. i’m so endlessly proud of her. she just has a big heart and gets overwhelmed a lot. i wish i could take away her pain.

jeno - my girlfriend doesn’t get mad, she has so much patience, more patience than i will ever have. but she can get snappy when she’s stressed and under high pressure. it’s okay though, it’s nothing serious. 9/10 she will always come into my arms and kiss me all over my face and apologise for being snappy with me

do you get along with each others friends?

yn - yeah! i love them. at first i was really shy and they all probably thought i was anti social. i’m sure they wasn’t too keen on me but i hope i’ve changed their minds :) they’re chill and good company, they make jeno happy and that’s all that matters. they’re incredibly caring and protective too. i’m someone who gets suffocated in the presence of others but none of jenos friends make me feel that way :)

jeno - yn has like… maybe three friends and one of them is me 😭 i’m joking. yn’s main friend is heejin and i do love her. mainly after seeing how good of a friend she is to yn. she always protects and defends her and she makes my girlfriend happy. yn has a habit of not defending herself, she lets people shit on her and treat her like crap but heejin always fights for her and it warms my heart. she fights back to all the girls who are so unnecessarily rude and bitchy to yn. once she punched seoyeon in the face and wow… i’m glad because she does things that i can’t do

who’s louder in bed?

yn - definitely jeno

jeno - what the fuck? it’s you

yn - [shakes her head] jeno doesn’t try to be quiet. he wants everyone to hear. it’s a kink i think. he says the dirtiest of things at the top of his lungs

jeno - it’s 100% yn. she will scream at the top of her lungs all night long. she will scream daddy, baby and jeno the most. even when she’s tired and so fucked out of her mind she still forces herself to have the energy to scream one more ‘JENO’ or ‘DADDY!!’

yn - he doesn’t care who hears or sees him, that’s why he always fucks me in the living room or in public, he wants people to see.

jeno - says the girl who rode my dick on the train home

yn - there was like one other person in the carriage and she was old and blind anyways!

jeno - well she wasn’t death, she could hear you moaning ‘daddy’

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Hi!

I'm so glad i found your blog, your deep dives are making my brain tingle in the best of ways! It's so difficult to really find all the info your curious about with the many different editions and histories of everything so you are an absolute lifesaver for understanding all these intruiging lore aspects.

I've been very curious about Asmodeus for a while now but am kinda struggling finding out more about him, I know he's very strong and apparently a large snake?? But I was wondering if you at some point feel the motivation to if you could tell me some about him, he seems so interesting to me and I just wanna know more about who and what he is.

Again, you are so awesome and I vow to devour all your writing!

Asmodeus: An Origin

Thank you so much for the kind words - and for your patience as I worked on this one. If there's any question you had about him that feels like it's not wholly answered here, feel free to let me know! There's still a lot that I was not able to include.

As ever, these writeups will align with current 5e lore, and draw from 3.5e for additional supporting information. On rarer occasions – and always noted – I will reference 1e and 2e, but with the caveats that there is much more in those editions that is tonally dissonant with the modern conception of the Forgotten Realms, and thus generally less applicable.

You would be hard-pressed to find a more succinct introduction to Asmodeus himself than in the following passage, from 3e’s Book of Vile Darkness: 

Asmodeus the Archfiend, the overlord of all the dukes of hell, commands all devilkind and reigns as the undisputed master of the Nine Hells. Even the deities that call that plane home pay Asmodeus a great deal of respect.¹ 

As to his current position, 5e’s Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide features Asmodeus among the list of gods, naming him the “god of indulgence”, and crediting to him the domains of knowledge and trickery. His symbol is “three inverted triangles arranged in a long triangle”, as seen in the image below.² 

While his active circle of worshippers remains small, he is one of the gods habitually turned to by those in need, particularly those who have done something to earn them the displeasure of another god:

After transgressing against a god in some way, a person prays to Asmodeus for something to provide respite during the long wait. Asmodeus is known to grant people what they wish, and thus people pray for all the delights and distractions they desire most from life. Those who transgress in great ways often ask Asmodeus to hide their sins from the gods, and priests say that he will do so, but with a price after death.³

Asmodeus is particularly appealing to those who fear what awaits them after death, or have arrived to find the reality does not match their hopes. For these souls, even the hazards of Baator might be preferable to long centuries of solitary wandering on the Fugue Plane. 

All souls wait on the Fugue Plane for a deity's pleasure, which determines where a soul will spend the rest of eternity. Those who lived their lives most in keeping with a deity's outlook are taken first. Others, who have transgressed in the eyes of their favored god or have not followed any particular ethos, might wait centuries before Kelemvor judges where they go. People who fear such a fate can pray to Asmodeus, his priests say, and in return a devil will grant a waiting soul some comfort.³

The worship of Asmodeus attracts staunch individualists, who desire a future unaligned with the domain of any of the other gods, and are willing to choose self-determination in any form that might approach them.

The faithful of Asmodeus acknowledge that devils offer their worshipers a path that's not for everyone — just as eternally basking in the light of Lathander or endlessly swinging a hammer in the mines of Moradin might not be for everyone. Those who serve Asmodeus in life hope to be summoned out of the moaning masses of the Fugue Plane after death. They yearn for the chance to master their own fates, with all of eternity to achieve their goals.³

Asmodeus achieved his current official status of godhood during the Spellplague, which lasted from 1385 to 1395 DR. After this, for reasons he has unsurprisingly chosen not to reveal, he performed a ritual to alter the metaphysical categorization of all existing tieflings, giving them features that highlighted this connection.

Due to this shift, tieflings are often perceived with wariness by those who believe that Asmodeus is able to exert control over these newly-determined “descendants” of his. While this is an unwarranted suspicion, as tieflings are no more bound to his will than any other individual of another race, the mistrust remains unfortunately pervasive.⁴ 

The true origins of Asmodeus, particularly from 3rd Edition on, are kept rather ambiguous, seemingly quite by design. This is both for Watsonian reasons – that a supreme being of evil such as Asmodeus would not carelessly leave information about his origins (and, potentially, weaknesses) floating around – as well as Doylist: it is a more elegant solution than eternal retcons, and leaves it up to the individual scholar or DM which explanation they ascribe the most veracity to.⁵ 

On the charge of Asmodeus’s true form being a giant serpent, we have Chris Pramas to thank for that bit of lore, stated in 2e’s 1999 Guide to Hell, but rarely mentioned - and not in any definitive manner - from 3e onward.⁶ 3e’s Manual of the Planes, published in 2001, does reference this account, but as a whispered and shadowy theory about the Archdevil Supreme, rather than objective truth.

Brutally repressed rumors suggest that there is more to Asmodeus than he admits. The story goes that the true form of Asmodeus actually resides in the deepest rift of Nessus called the Serpent’s Coil. The shape seen by all the other devils of the Nine Hells in the fortress of Malsheem is actually a highly advanced use of the project image spell or an avatar of some sort. ... From where fell Asmodeus? Was he once a greater deity cast down from Elysium or Celestia, or is he older yet, as the rumor hints? Perhaps he represents some fundamental entity whose mere existence pulls the multiverse into its current configuration. Nobody who tells the story of Asmodeus’s “true” form lives more than 24 hours after repeating it aloud. But dusty scrolls in hard-to-reach libraries (such as Demogorgon’s citadel in the Abyss) yet record this knowledge. Unless it is pure fancy, of course.⁷ 

One can see from the framing of the above excerpt that there is no attempt made at certainty. Perhaps it is mere conjecture, or perhaps a secret, hidden truth that few may know. It is impossible to say for certain. 

Another story of Asmodeus’s possible origin is found in 3e’s Fiendish Codex II. This text, again, does not frame the information given as universal truth, but rather takes pains to emphasize its ambiguity. 

The best way to understand devils and their ways is to listen to the stories they tell about themselves. The most famous of these tales have propagated as myths throughout all the worlds of the Material Plane, becoming familiar to mortals of all sorts. But as is often the case with legends, contradictions abound. For example, the tale of the Pact Primeval is the accepted version of the multiverse’s creation. But an alternate story claims Asmodeus as the fallen creator of the universe.  Countless cultures have their own versions of the Pact Primeval legend. The names of the deities featured in it change depending on where it is told, but the names of the devils are always the same. Perhaps this fact is what inspired Philogestes, the accursed philosopher of evil, to pen his famous proverb: “The gods exist in multiplicity, but Asmodeus is unique.” As is the case with any myth worthy of the name, the following tale is true — whether or not it actually happened.⁸ 

In this account, Asmodeus began as a celestial embodiment of law, formed from the concept itself to fight against the embodiment of chaos — demons.⁹ Over time, as he and his followers became more akin to the enemies they were facing, those celestial beings not engaged in the fight grew leery of what they were becoming, and took him to trial, to account for himself. The god of valor spoke first, laying out the concerns of those gathered against Asmodeus. In response: 

Asmodeus smiled, and the smoke of a thousand battlefields rose from his lips. “As Lord of Battle,” he pointed out, “you should know better than any that war is a dirty business. We have blackened ourselves so that you can remain golden. We have upheld the laws, not broken them. Therefore, you may not cast us out.”⁸

Despite their efforts, the gods were able to find no laws that Asmodeus had broken. Unsurprisingly, as he himself had helped write them. This conflict between Asmodeus and his host and the remainder of the unsullied gods continued on, with the gods unable to get rid of him, and free themselves of the constant reminder of the Blood War.

With time, the concepts of “good” and “evil” entered the world alongside law and chaos, and Asmodeus was able to argue for dominion over those souls that chose evil. The gods loathed the reminders of this fact, however, and when Asmodeus volunteered to move to the empty plain of Baator, they enthusiastically agreed. It was only years later, when the number of souls arriving at their own planes after death began to sharply decrease, that they thought to travel to Baator themselves, where they found a robust operation based around encouraging mortal souls to take to the path of evil. 

“You have granted us the power to harvest souls,” replied Asmodeus. “To build our Hell and gird our might for the task set before us, we naturally had to find ways to improve our yield.” The war deity drew forth his longsword of crackling lightning. “It is your job to punish transgressions, not to encourage them!” he cried.  Asmodeus smiled, and a venomous moth flew out from between his sharpened teeth. “Read the fine print,” he replied.⁸ 

While the recorded story implies a simple act of one-upmanship, a later section of the Fiendish Codex tells us that Asmodeus’s split from the other celestial deities was not so amicable. 

Once he had committed himself to residing in Baator, the deities physically cast him out of the upper realms, and he fell — and fell, and fell. Upon reaching the plain of Baator, he plunged through the nascent layers he had begun to shape. (In some versions, his fall created the layers, breaking the formerly featureless plain into nine pieces, which then arranged themselves into floating tiers.) At last he hit solid ground but continued to fall, spiraling through rock and soil. The protesting earth of Baator tore at his flesh, opening scores of gaping wounds. Still he fell, until he could fall no farther. The point where he finally stopped was the deepest part of Baator — the Pit.  The wounds that Asmodeus suffered in his dramatic fall have never healed. Though he manages to appear blithely unperturbed by his injuries, they still weep blood every day, and he has been wracked by constant pain for millennia.¹⁰ 

This casting down and its associated injuries is corroborated in other texts as well, including 3e’s Manual of the Planes. 

5e’s Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes seemingly follows on from the Fiendish Codex’s account, sharing one conception of the fallout of Asmodeus’s stratagem, positioned as an in-universe account penned by the aasimar bard Anodius in a work titled “The Trial of Asmodeus”.

At some point after Asmodeus broke from Celestia to rule Baator, he was brought up on trial for unspecified crimes and trespasses. Asmodeus claimed the right to speak in his own defense, and a court was gathered, arbitrated by Primus, a being intrinsically aligned with Neutrality and Law. From Asmodeus’s recorded arguments in his own defense, we can surmise that those on Celestia had accused him of acting outside of the law in actively working to turn mortals to evil. 

The case stretched on, with neither side ceding ground, for weeks, until finally Primus declared his judgment. While Asmodeus could not be convicted of any true crime – for he had acted within the law in all things – he was to take an artifact, the Ruby Rod that is synonymous with his position, which would “guarantee his adherence to law”.¹¹ A quote from Anodius’s in-universe text is helpfully provided by Mordenkainen: 

“I literally sit beneath eight tiers of scheming, ambitious entities that represent primal law suffused with evil. The path from this realm leads to an infinite pit of chaos and evil. Now, tell me again how you and your ilk are the victims in this eternal struggle.” – Asmodeus addresses the celestial jury, from The Trial of Asmodeus¹¹

In a manner similar to his contested origin, Asmodeus’s appearance is described in several varying ways — a fact that seems in line for a principal schemer such as himself. This seeming discrepancy could also speak to varying uses of aspects or projection spells.

The Fiendish Codex II in one instance paints him as “a horned, red-skinned humanoid with a tall, lithe frame” who “dresses in splendid robes and understated but elegant accoutrements.”¹⁰ A later section in the Codex corresponds to this description given in the Book of Vile Darkness: 

Asmodeus stands just over 13 feet tall, with lustrous dark skin and dark hair. He is handsome in the same way that a thunderstorm is beautiful. His red eyes shine with the power of hell, and his head is crowned with a pair of small, dark red horns. He dresses in finery of red and black; a single garment of his might cost what an entire nation spends in a year. Of course, he is never without his Ruby Rod, an ornate piece of unparalleled jeweled finery and vast magical power.¹ 

Regarding his personality, he is most often described as “a soft-spoken, articulate, chillingly reasonable fellow who is confident in his status as one of the multiverse’s most powerful entities. Even when surprised, he reacts with supreme poise, as if he were already three steps ahead of his adversaries.”¹⁰ The Book of Vile Darkness notes correspondingly that: 

The actions of Asmodeus are often mysterious to outside observers, but that is due to the short-sighted and dim-witted view most beings have. Asmodeus’s manipulations are labyrinthine and insidious. They work on a grand scale, although when it suits his needs he is willing to focus his attention even on the status of a lowly mortal soul.¹

¹ Book of Vile Darkness. 2002. p. 165-6.

² Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide. 2015. p. 21.

³ Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide. 2015. p. 24.

⁴ Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide. 2015. p. 118. 

⁵ “Watsonian vs. Doylist”. Fanlore.org. 

⁶ In general, I try to stay in-universe with these lore writeups, but in this case it did feel like some out-of-universe context was necessary. 

⁷ Manual of the Planes. 2001. p. 123.

⁸ Fiendish Codex II: Tyrants of the Nine Hells. 2006. p. 4-5.

⁹ While the description of these events found within the Fiendish Codex is too long to transcribe here in its entirety, I highly encourage you to read the full account for yourself. 

¹⁰ Fiendish Codex II. 2006. p. 73-4.

¹¹ Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes. 2018. p. 9-10.

[yuckydraws]

(Click for better quality)

Grumpleumplepants himself

Few Word Characteristics

Alert

Decisive

Organized

Witty

Abrasive

Stubborn

Violent

Brash

Grumpy

Possessive

Information on his design/character

He's the second shortest of all the guys. Do not mention his height if you value your limbs and hearing. It's a touchy subject.

His facial scar is somewhat of a recent injury. He got it back in his universe underground. Alphys and him got in a fight about Chara. Vant was trying to protect them and convince Alphys not to go after their soul. He thought she would listen to him... but the scar that half-blinded him says otherwise.

He's got quite the scowly demeanor. You're more likely to get a smirk than a genuine smile from him.

His bandana is all sorts of teared up and battered, yet he still wears it with pride. It contrasts his otherwise well put-together image, but not many people point it out.

He's got a few tattoos, all fairly close to each other. A rose vine on his sternum (roses are his favorite flower), a memorial W.D. tattoo on his right collarbone, and a pi symbol on his left collarbone.

He's always needed reading glasses, even before the eye socket injury, but finds them annoying to wear. He'll often go without unless he's going to be reading more than paragraph or two. What? Why's he glaring at the menu? Well, these assholes should make their letters bigger, that's why.

He has a scar that stretches across three vertebrae of his spine. He got it while shielding Pup from an attack when he was a teenager. It never healed quite right (there wasn't exactly a doctor who gave enough of a shit about some random kid who couldn't pay them to help him out in that regard) and causes pain flare ups every so often. It always aches, but his flare ups make it hard to even get out of bed.

As with most of the 'Fell guys, his body is littered with scars, big and small.

He's got a rather long tail, and uses it in an almost cat-like way. When he's angry? It swishes back and forth aggressively. When he's surprised? It'll stick straight out. It's possible to get it wagging in a happy way... but you'll have to work for it.

He's always had a knack for math. He's used this to become a financial advisor, though he could easily keep up with much more difficult calculations. He'd never share this with Sans. He's rather get run over than help him with his little "project" in the basment.

He enjoys to crochet in his free time, but it's something he would take to the grave.

He also enjoys baking, though he doesn't bother to hide that. You can always tell when he's stressed by how much time he's spending in the kitchen making sweet treat after sweet treat.

Like many of the other energetic personalities, he stays active. He'll spar with the others, but when it comes to personal exercises, he tends to stick to weightlifting (when his spine will allow him) and boxing.

[unvalley]

Daycare Love

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Chapter five | Caramade Franks

Despite the slight rough start at her new job, Juvia's first week went rather well. Together with Cana and Meredy, their team decided not to plan any special activities for the first four weeks, as both the children and staff had just returned from their summer vacation. They would prioritise everyone to settle down and get to know each other. Juvia had to learn names, which wasn't her strongest suit, but to her surprise, she managed to learn all sixteen children's names. She felt pretty proud of herself.

There was one thing she definitely wasn't proud of. A certain somebody had been running through her mind like an adrenaline filled hamster on a wheel.

Juvia had seen Gray every day that week–in the morning at drop off or in the afternoon for pick up. Though the way he was acting was strange. The last time they spoke was on Tuesday, when he thanked her for helping Aster with his nightmare. The only words exchanged between the two were 'Good morning' or 'Bye'. Juvia felt like he was avoiding her and she didn't like that one bit. She wondered if she had said or done something to make him distance himself from her?

Haven't you done enough?

She visibly shook her head to bury the bad thought. Though it was the truth, and she was more than aware of it, that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now.

Juvia found herself standing in line, about to order something she had longed for–Caramade Franks.

She and her roommate had thought of what to eat for dinner. With neither of them having the energy to cook on a Friday evening, they decided take out was the answer. For him it didn't matter what it was, he ate basically everything anyway so Juvia got to decide for them and well, there she was.

"Four Caramade Franks, please." She said to the cashier when it was her turn to order.

"Since when did you eat that many?" A man asked her, or rather commented. It caught Juvia by surprise because she knew exactly who it was.

"Hello to you too, Gray." She turned to look at the raven-haired man, raising her eyebrows. To be honest, she was nervous to see him, but she had to conceal it. "Oh, hi Aster." She greeted the little boy with a smile when she noticed him slightly hiding behind his dad.

"H-hi." Aster stuttered. He was shy and most likely confused seeing her at another place than at daycare.

''I see you kept our tradition.'' Gray said, he seemed happy.

No. No she had not.

Six years. That's how long her favourite food was non-existent, but that was not because she didn't want to have it. The more she went without Caramade Franks, the more she craved it. She had to refrain herself from doing so every time, even if it was extremely difficult. She was determined to move on from him, so she tried every imaginable way to avoid thinking about him and all their shared memories.

The good memories.

''Actually, it's been a while.'' Juvia admitted, her eyes shifting anywhere except into his eyes. She hated the fact that it was true. She felt guilty. That tradition–their tradition, had meant a lot to both of them, and although Gray didn't mention it, Juvia knew he was disappointed with her answer. ''I see that you did, though.''

''Yeah, we eat Caramade Franks every Friday,'' He answered before looking happily down to Aster. "Ain't that right buddy?"

''Yeah! I love it so much, and daddy does too!" Aster exclaimed, his face litting up at the thought of the delight. It seemed his shyness had disappeared into nothing. ''Juvia too?"

"I do. It's my favourite." She couldn't help but smile at him.

After receiving her order, the three walked towards the exit. Juvia stopped in her tracks once she saw the current weather conditions. The once vivid blue painted sky accompanied with the sun beaming had now shifted to an overcast grey and the clouds had began to weep.

''Damn it." Juvia cursed under her breath. She had initially thought to take an umbrella with her, but chose not to because of the warm weather that existed just mere seconds ago. Not to mention she wasn't dressed appropriately for the weather, wearing only a t-shirt, jean shorts and sneakers. Luckily, she lived somewhat close, so she would simply have to make a run for it and hope her dinner remained edible.

''What are you doing?'' Gray asked in confusion. He carried Aster in his arms.

''Trying to protect my food.'' She replied, as she tried different ways to achieve her goal.

"Juvia it's pouring, I'll drive you home.''

"It's fine, I live close by."

''It wasn't a question.''

Before Juvia could voice another protest, Gray grasped her free hand and led her towards his car.

Maybe the rain wasn't such a bad thing since he didn't notice the sudden crimson red displaying across her cheeks.

___

Juvia was lucky the drive to her apartment was only a few minutes long. The car was filled with silence apart from Aster incoherently mumbling the lyrics to In Summer while playing with his Olaf plushie.

''Aster, I'm going to follow Juvia to the front door and then I'll be back, okay?'' Gray informed his toddler after parking the car outside Juvia's apartment building.

''Okay daddy!''

Juvia was going to protest again, that she was more than capable of walking ten metres, but she knew he couldn't care less. When he says something, he is going to do it. Still stubborn as she remembered him to be.

''Bye Juvia!"

''Bye Aster, try not to tease daddy too much over the weekend." Aster let out an adorable giggle while Gray rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth slightly tugging upwards in a soft smile.

Gray and Juvia ran to the front door, the canopy protecting them from getting soaked.

''Thanks for the ride."

''Of course, there was no way I would have let you walk home in this weather. The Caramade Franks would have been all cold and soggy."

''Aw, and here I thought you were thinking of me, aren't you sweet?'' With a playful remark, they both burst into laughter. How could it still feel so natural to be around him, even after what felt like an eternity?

''Wait, before you go, I've been meaning to ask you,'' He briefly paused before resuming, ''Can I have your phone number?''

Wait what?

"Of course." She answered, fishing her phone out of her back pocket and handing it to him.

Juvia hesitated at first, thinking about the reason why she even had a different phone number to begin with. Then again, maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be a bad idea. Unsure if it was appropriate, given she was Aster's teacher, but to be fair, she knew Gray before Aster was even born.

"So… that doesn't happen to be the reason you've been avoiding me, does it?" She blurted out, her fingers rapidly typing his phone digits.

"W-what! N-No!" He stuttered and diverted his eyes from hers. Gray had never been a good liar. "I'm asking because I tried contacting you, but couldn't reach you. I thought maybe you had changed to a new number. Besides, I remember you've never been fond of social media."

"Oh yeah… my old phone broke so I had to get both a new phone and a new number."

Lies.

Juvia despised lying, especially to Gray, but she wasn't ready to tell him the truth. She knew she had to tell him everything at some point, he deserved to know, but now was definitely not the time.

"There." Juvia handed Gray his phone back.

"Thanks. Now, you're not actually going to eat all that by yourself, right?''

"Oh no, I'm splitting it with my friend, Gajeel. We're roommates.''

''Oh…I see." He murmured, a lingering hint of disappointment in his voice, leaving Juvia with the feeling that he wasn't pleased with her answer.

"Well, I should get back to the car, can't keep the little man starving or the socials will come for my ass. Take care, Juvia."

''Will you let me know when you two arrive home?"

He nodded, then hurried back to his car and drove off.

___

Juvia had only made it outside of her apartment door when she heard her phone go off.

Unknown: Hi Juvia, we made it home - Gray 18:08

Oh, that was fast.

Good, I'm glad you both made it home safe! - Juvia 18:09

Texting Gray reminded Juvia of a certain someone.

"Gajeel, I got Caramade Franks!" She called out the moment she entered their shared apartment and went to put the bags of food on the kitchen counter.

''Who the hell was that?'' Her roommate emerged from the balcony with his arms crossed.

Some people, well, most people, would be very intimidated by Gajeel, just based on his appearance. He was tall, muscular, with long black hair, and covered with tattoos and piercings. Juvia tells herself to never judge a book by its cover. She knew the real Gajeel; tough as metal on the outside and soft like a teddy bear on the inside. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't beat the shit out of people. That was only if they said or did something to piss him off; then it was game over for them.

When she moved to Oak town, Juvia found herself without anyone until she met Gajeel. He became her first and only friend there and despite not being blood-related at all, he was like a brother to her. He was the person she could confide in about anything and everything. It didn't matter how trivial, humorous or serious the matter was – he always listened and supported her, unwaveringly. Wherever it was a silly joke or a heartfelt concern, Gajeel was there for her, ready to stand by her side no matter the circumstance.

''Huh?''

''The guy you were talking with at the front door just now."

Shit.

''It's him, isn't it? Gray.''

Gray was not exactly an unfamiliar name for Gajeel. He was familiar with who Juvia's old friend was and her history with him. She never intended to bring him up, but it just happened. Juvia and Gajeel lived together in Oak time during university, and one night she had woken up from a nightmare, in panic, with tears streaming down her face. Gajeel was woken up by her cries and hurried to her room to comfort her. That dream had been about Gray, and from that night on Gajeel knew every detail about Gray and his life. He knew his hobbies, his likes and dislikes and even about his stripping habit which he thought was ludicrous.

To say Gajeel didn't like Gray would be an understatement. He harboured a strong dislike for him, despite never having met him. However, based on what he had heard from Juvia, his dislike for Gray was firmly rooted.

Also, this meant Gajeel knew the truth.

Juvia stopped bringing his name up after a while and for Gajeel, the reason was obvious but nonetheless he didn't question her but he never forgot.

"I'll kill him."

"Gajeel!"

___

Not only was Gajeel super protective over his sister but he was also a stubborn bastard so calming him down to prevent him from hunting down Gray and murder him was challenging, but eventually Juvia managed to soothe him. During dinner she told him the events of the week; Meeting Gray, discovering he has now a father and avoiding him would not only be unprofessional but impossible, given that his child was in the same daycare group where she worked. Moreover, she didn't want to be mean and hurt his feelings as they rekindled their friendship – or so she really hoped.

Now all Juvia wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. It had been a long week, leaving her thoroughly drained.

As Juvia prepared for bed, she knew there was one thing she needed to do first and that was to send someone special a message. She reached for her phone, tapping out a brief but heartfelt message in hopes of reuniting with that person very soon.

L<3 : Hi sweetie <3 How're you? Sorry for not texting sooner :( I miss you. Are you available to meet up this weekend? 23:14

Due to the late hour, Juvia didn't expect a reply until the following morning but she was surprised when her phone buzzed after only a few seconds. Checking her screen, she realised it wasn't the expected response.

Gray: Goodnight Juvia. See you on monday 23:15

"Aw, that's so sweet of him." Juvia thought, smiling. She didn't want to leave him without a reply so she messaged him back.

Goodnight Gray. Have a nice weekend! :) 23:16

Gray: You too :) 23:17

Years had passed since Juvia last fell asleep with a smile on her face, but that night, she couldn't help but do so.

___

A/N: Daycare Love comeback yayyy! I’m sorry for keeping everyone waiting for so long again :( What do you think of the new chapter and who do you think this mysterious L is? You’ll find out in the next chapter so stay tuned! Thank you for the support ♡

♡TAGLIST♡

@eme-eleff @jetblackrevival @be-dazzled @azuchifairy @greenapplegrass @fbflame94 @gruviaftw11 @pinkbtr @shampooneko @anaviarts @juvsbby @fortheloversofbooks @jekde04

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART]

This one is shorter, because I wanted to leave a cliffhanger at the end >:) Fair warning, there's a small paragraph describing wounds in more depth than I usually do!

These are getting more difficult to write haha. Maybe I'm trying to add too many plot points at the same time, but I like a good mystery or 5...

Ghost is tempted to barge into Price’s office for a third time today. He’s been getting increasingly more agitated, and with no missions in the foreseeable future, has no place to let all his frustrations out.

The fact he’s been avoiding MacTavish isn’t helping the situation.

“Avoiding” is a strong word. Ghost is simply waiting for Soap to get what he had told him back then through his thick skull. And hearing the conversations he has with the recruits tells him he absolutely didn’t.

The Scot keeps up a friendly approach with them, making light jokes at his revenant status. Lets enough information out that the recruits don’t feel the need to ask more, but not enough that they would truly understand what is going on.

It would impress him if he didn’t feel this underlying current of freezing ice every time he heard another of Soap’s ‘hilarious’ stories.

Watching Gaz beside him grimace tells him they share the sentiment. The Sergeants have been spending a lot of time together as of late, and Ghost would lie if he said he didn’t wish Garrick would take a moment to speak with him. He’s not one to really focus on what he’s feeling, but he needs to share what he knows with someone.

He wants more brains working on solving the mystery called “Soap”.

Ghost sighs before turning away from Price’s door. 

You’d think, for someone with Ghost’s powers, he wouldn’t need to train his physical strength as much. He wouldn’t, if things worked as they did before he joined the 141. He wasn’t as smart back then.

Ghost throws another flurry of punches at the sack that distracts him from his thoughts for a moment.

Back then, he went into missions back to back, annihilating enemies within a few seconds of touching ground. Receiving orders to unleash Limbo regardless of how close allies were to him. 

Limbo was emptier. Calmer. The not-dead residing within it weren’t always this… angry.

Another set of punches violently shakes the chains the punching bag is hanged by.

It was only after losing several squads that Ghost finally got his tight leash, but it was too late. Limbo was never the same. And neither were his fellow soldiers, who saw in Ghost not a brother in arms, but their friend’s murderer.

Soap might not have his own Limbo, but Ghost is certain his powers can, and if he continues on the path he’s on, will backfire.

Reapers, as generous as they are, are merciless.

He heaves, resting his arm on the abused bag. It might be time to involve Price in his concerns.

The path to Price’s office is intercepted by one floating Sergeant, also on his way to the Captain.

Ghost nods at him, “need the Captain for something?”

Gaz averts his eyes for a moment, “It’s about Soap, I think-”

“Save it for Price’s office”, Ghost restarts on his path, a little more sure of his purpose. With the three of them, he’ll might be able to find out more.

Before Garrick can knock, Price’s words fill their minds.

“I can sense your troubles from here, come in already.”

They both huffed and entered the room. Price sat in front of his computer screen, reading something before addressing them.

“Spill it out then. I’m listening.”

“Soap’s left arm has nerve damage, sir”, Ghost starts, “He needs more time to heal than the brass is giving him. He should be removed from active duty.”

Gaz’s eyes widen in surprise. Oh, so Soap hasn’t let his new friend know about this? Fucking great.

“How the hell is he supposed to fight without one arm?” He exclaims, “Sir, I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s hiding injuries. He keeps telling stories about how many he got blown to bits and I can’t imagine he-”

Price cuts him off “The Sergeant’s arm injuries are registered and accounted for.”

“The higher-ups let him out when he’s ‘capable of preforming well on field’. His words” Ghost adds and deflates back into his chair.

“Bloody hell…” Gaz trails off.

Price watches both of them and exhales, “I’m not in charge of Soap’s next deployment. I can’t do anything about that.”

Ghost looks at the screen for the first time since entering. Schedules, of…

“Price… what have you found?”

The captain’s expression darkened, “We finally got back the decrypted intel you and Soap collected 7 months ago.”

His focus snaps away from Soap. Are they being sent on a mission finally? “Tell me where you need me, Captain.”

“Switzerland. Intel suggests a deal with a PMC will happen there in 4 days. Shepherd wants eyes on it, the smuggler hub it’s taking place in has been on our radar for months.”

Price drags out 2 files and dumps them in front of Ghost and Gaz, “you two will survey the area and take notes, no engagement. Get it done clean.”

“What about Soap, sir?” Gaz asks.

Price raises an eyebrow, “what about him? He will stay here, waiting for his assignment.” Price tries to reassure the Sergeant, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him busy. He’ll get to have some alone time in the training grounds”.

Ghost gets up and takes the file with him. They both get dismissed and Gaz stops after a couple of steps, “you need to talk to Soap before we leave.”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “has he said anything?”.

“No”, Gaz chews on his lip, “But I feel like if he’ll listen to someone, it would be you.”

Ghost walks away, not before muttering, “your feeling’s wrong, then.”

He doesn’t sleep that night. Which isn’t an unfamiliar experience for him, but much rarer after Price found him a bunk bed to drag into his personal room. The victims of Limbo don’t reach up high enough to grasp at him there.

Ghost looks out at the fields, a sense of discomfort lingering around him. Footsteps behind him alert him to the presence of another sleepless soldier. He doesn’t bother turning - they’ll leave him alone when they realize it’s the Ghost, if they know what’s good for them.

It’s for that reason that he’s surprised to hear the footsteps get closer to him, before feeling a body join the window.

Ghost is about to scare the bastard away, but he turns around to find Soap, a somber look marring his features.

“I’ve thought about what you told me”, he speaks lowly, a stark contrast to his usual confident tone.

Ghost hums.

“My powers… don’t allow me to do much.” Soap locks eyes with the night sky, “I either destroy or get destroyed. I supposed you figured what I prefer.”

He did. What he doesn’t understand is why Soap is so adamant that it’s the only way. He turns to Soap, which makes the other finally look at him.

“When you return from your mission, when you’re truly under my command, I’ll decide what your role will be. For now”, he sighs, “for now, you can keep playing a puppet for the higher ups.”

Soap has a distant look to his eyes. As if he’s not really all here. “I do want to learn. How to operate like the 141 does. I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.”

That doesn’t comfort Ghost in the slightest.

“Care to share?” He cautiously asks.

Soap, for the first time in days, shines a genuine smile at him, “You’re a bit of a myth sir. Each person seems to have a different idea of what your powers really are, how your Reaping went”

He raises his head, “None of them come close to the truth”.

“What else have you heard?” Ghost continues digging his own second grave.

“Does it matter? It’s all shite anyway.” Soap huffs, “You’re far softer than any of them realize”

He barks what could be a laugh, “Softer? Sergeant, have you hit your head in training?”

Soap fucking pouts his lips like a damn child and replies “Aye I said it! Yer soft LT! Who else would’ve cared about my arm!” His smile broadens.

Ghost can feel his eyes crescent, “I think your brain’s more messed up than I originally thought.”

“That’s for fuckin’ certain” Soap snorts.

They return to their previous silence, and Ghost unexpectedly has the urge to say, “me and Garrick are leaving for a mission tomorrow. Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Soap rests his head in his flaming hand, leaning against the window sill, smiling up at Ghost.

“Copy that, sir”.

The mission isn’t anything to write home about. Ghost does feel surprisingly refreshed for not sleeping a wink the night before.

He refuses to acknowledge that Soap’s farewell to them on the tarmac has anything to do with that.

Gaz lifts a chunk of concrete for them to overwatch the meeting happen. The PMC representatives, a dozen soldiers covered head to toe in black uniforms, exchange with the smugglers a few words before walking over to their truck and opening the back to check the “goods”. From their location, Ghost can’t see what’s inside.

The PMC Soldiers seem pleased, and bring several crates to the smugglers.

The two parties leave, and Ghost and Gaz finish their observations and call for exfil.

When they return to their home base, Ghost notes only Price waiting for them on the tarmac.

They get dragged into debrief before he can ask where their other Sergeant is.

As Price collects the various files and maps they used in the meeting, Ghost stays behind and inquires him about Soap’s whereabouts.

“The Sergeant deployed last night”, is all he’s got clearance to get.

Price tells him he’ll be informed when the Sergeant returns, and Ghost leaves the meeting room, unsettled as if he didn’t just finish a mission.

The days are incredibly unremarkable without Soap. He and Garrick have played about 15 card game rounds in 3 days, before they both got so bored the preferred doing nothing at all.

He would be drowning in paperwork if their entire previous mission didn’t unexpectedly get wrapped in red tape, so he didn’t even have that to distract him. Although, with the size of Price’s eye bags resembling several suitcases, maybe he shouldn’t complain.

At last, Gaz runs up to him to swiftly push him towards the tarmac, yapping about and telling him that Soap is about to return.

Ghost decides then that he will stick to the Scot until he’ll tell him every single detail on his mission. Specifically, in the medical department. He’s not going to let him hide such things anymore.

Gaz sees the helo nearing and Ghost’s chest does a bizarre twisting motion in anticipation for Soap and his bright smiles.

The helo touches down, and Gaz runs up to it while the ramp lowers. He calls for Soap before abruptly stopping.

Ghost pushes beyond him to see what’s the holdup, and freezes in place.

Soap stands on one, shaky leg. His left arm, bloody and bruised, barely hangs on a crutch. His entire right side is charred, black blood caking his remaining tac vest.

He hops down slowly, and Ghost sees his face more clearly in the sunlight. Or what is left of it.

His cheek was so badly burned he could see his teeth poking through, blood covering what is certainly more burn marks. One eye shut, the other so vacant it looks fake.

He glances at Ghost for a moment, before Soap breaks the eye contact and continues hopping forward, leaving droplets of blood behind him. Distantly, he can hear Gaz shaking off from his stupor and offering to help Soap, only to be completely ignored.

Ghost himself is still stuck, his eyes glued to the helo sits.

Soap’s is covered in deep red blood.

Should probably remind y'all I like angst huh

[melonbear51]

VTM Character Concepts I am Compelled to Share: Banu Haqim Edition!

Hello all! Spring has sprung and with it my creativity is in full bloom! I figured it would be a good idea to take advantage of it and dream up some Banu Haqim ideas to share with you all. Now, I’m not gonna lie, this one was HARD. Not because the clan isn’t interesting (it VERY MUCH is) but because justice is incredibly varied depending on which Banu Haqim you are talking to and I wanted to honor that. That being said, I hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with. As always, feel free to use these ideas however you wish.

1. A doctor turned whistleblower who was mortally wounded by agents of an unethical pharmaceutical company after they exposed dirty secrets regarding dangerous drug side effects. Before they passed on, they were embraced and now seek to topple the company once and for all.

2. A Banu Haqim who takes “eat the rich” literally, having a self-imposed feeding restriction wherein they can only drink from those of a certain tax bracket.

3. A Banu Haqim who so strongly believes that alcohol is the root of moral degeneracy and evil (look into the Temperance Movement and Prohibition for more info on this way of thinking) that they’ve been poisoning supplies of booze in order to stop people from drinking. Yes, people die because of their actions, but the ends justify the means. Besides, the people should have known better than to partake.

4. A Banu Haqim crime boss who operates out of certain areas in order to discourage people from moving in/exploring. The reason? Those areas are hotbeds of supernatural/Kindred activity and if the vampire has to tank the area’s reputation to keep people away and safe, they sure as hell are willing to get their hands dirty. Unfortunately, they also have to deal with the fact that rent is incredibly cheap as a result of their actions, which is making it difficult to keep regular people with a lower income out.

5. A Banu Haqim who actively hunts Sabbat vampires and diablerizes them. The only issue is that they’ve been having flashes of memories that aren’t theirs as well as odd dreams. Seems like the ones they devoured may be rearing their ugly heads, and the Banu is desperately throwing themself into blood sorcery research in order to keep the others hiding in their blood DOWN!

6. A down-on-their-luck Banu Haqim who is rooming rent-free with a Tzimisce. The only price for the roof over their head is nightly chats about justice, etiquette, morality, and the thin lines between the three. Naturally, the conversations end up like something out of Silence of The Lambs or Hannibal, but both vampires are starting to understand each other a bit better. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen.

[azems-familiar]

"Can you just- for a minute, can you pretend that I mean something to you?'

this. uhhhhhh. got a LOT longer than i intended it to, and also had a lot less angst, though if you consider the other pov there is definitely so much more. and also with literally all the context. anyway. have 5.6k words of emetraha, because i have brainrot and the prompt worked so well for them i had to choose between multiple options.

The Exarch being away is the last thing Emet-Selch expects when he arrives at the Crystarium for their usual discussion and debate over tea. The man is bound to the Tower; while he can leave, it weakens him, and thus in all the time Emet-Selch has known him he has only left Lakeland’s borders on the rare occasion, usually to treat with Eulmore (prior to Vauthry’s birth, of course) or in the event of some emergency. According to the Captain of the Guard, however (who had seemed faintly amused when he asked as to the Exarch’s whereabouts), he left the Crystarium three days ago to make the trek to Rak’tika to meet with the Night’s Blessed. The matter of this meeting, she informs Emet-Selch, is something the Exarch himself can decide whether or not to disclose to a non-citizen, and he is not expected to return for another four days, but she can offer Emet-Selch the approximate location of his destination, should he so desire to bother their leader directly.

He does, in fact, so desire. The endless waiting is the most intolerable part of any Rejoining, and while the millennia have gotten him quite accustomed to patience, he is terribly bored, and there is only so much he can do. Should he push the shard too quickly, the Light could consume it entirely before the Source is prepared, leaving a hollow void as useless as the Thirteenth - and Emet-Selch has no intention of repeating Igeyorhm’s mistakes. Thus the necessity of filling his time with activity unrelated to his plotting - and the draw of his weekly meetings with the Exarch. It has been some time since he sparred with someone near his equal in intellect, after all.

Of all places near a Warden, Rak’tika is less burdensome than others; beneath the boughs the shadows are deep enough to provide some measure of relief from the omnipresent Light and its burn. Thus Emet-Selch does not particularly mind teleporting to a location just outside the Night’s Blessed’s fort and asking after the Exarch once again from their sentries. What he does mind is being informed that the Exarch is late and has yet to arrive, and that they’re considering sending scouts out to search for him if he does not arrive within another few hours.

Emet-Selch sighs. Their scouts are near-guaranteed to be ineffective fools, and he is admittedly curious as to what could delay the Exarch, which means the solution, while distasteful, is an obvious one. “No need,” he informs the sentry, a slight bite to the words. “I will find him myself.”

Truly, how frustrating. And all because he desired a cup of tea and a stimulating conversation.

With the star as shattered as it is, his sight is without equal, and though the presence of the Light somewhat hinders him it takes very little effort all the same to find a shadow to hide in and look into the aether, with a range that far outstrips his usual vision. There’s a glaring brilliance in the sky that reflects off the currents in the ground and air, fragmenting his sight and making it difficult to pick out specifics, but after a moment of squinting against it he catches a hint of the Exarch’s familiar aether, far away and fluctuating with some kind of stress. It could simply be the knowledge that he is late for his meeting, Emet-Selch allows, but there is something…a greater concentration of Light around him. Sin eaters, perhaps? It would be unfortunate indeed were the great Crystal Exarch to be so waylaid.

…Emet-Selch has yet to have an opportunity to see the man in combat. His skills as a mage are whispered about in the Crystarium, but much of what he has accomplished can easily be attributed to his command over the Tower - which, Emet-Selch has to admit, does make him a mage of some high caliber. The Exarch is capable of directing the Tower to perform feats Emet-Selch had not expected from a Sundered soul, and his attempts at turning Allag’s voidgate technology into a summoning spell speak to his grasp on the theoretical. Combat magic, however, is an entirely different beast, and Emet-Selch is curious. And perhaps any observations he might make could unlock some of those secrets the Exarch so furiously guards.

Thus decided, he spirits himself away through the shadows, off in the Exarch’s direction. It takes four attempts for him to actually reach the man; when he finally does, he steps out of the rift into the scene of a small massacre. An overturned wagon lays sprawled across the major path through the Greatwood, crates of supplies and possessions scattered about, some torn open. Several bodies, viis all, have been flung about, deep wounds across multiple of them, marked by claws and swords, no life left in them whatsoever, and scorch marks litter the ground, patches of grass smoldering still. Smoke is heavy in the air, smoke and the spark of fading Light aether and the metallic tang of blood, a rather unsavory pall, and without any wind there is nothing to disperse it.

Emet-Selch arrives just in time to watch the Exarch, standing in the middle of the carnage, gesture with his staff and send a bolt of flame through the last remaining sin eater.

For all that he makes a heroic figure, robes bright and staff gleaming, his body language is anything but. His shoulders are tense and hunched, his fingers too-tight around his staff, his skin pale where it is visible, his legs trembling slightly. And curled against his side, held there by his flesh-and-blood arm, is a tiny viis child with wavy grey hair and small ears pressed flat against the sides of her head, her fists clinging to the Exarch’s robe, an expression on her face that is the kind of fear that has passed through the event horizon of utter terror and morphed into stillness again. Blood streaks her cheek and one arm - a gash in her forehead, another on her bicep. From her size she cannot be any older than three or four years.

“Well, well,” Emet-Selch murmurs, sweeping his eyes over the bodies - yes, that one, with the similarly-pale hair, bears enough resemblance it could be her mother. “So it was sin eaters that delayed you. I wonder, did you involve yourself before or after you knew the child yet lived?”

He takes a few steps out from behind the tree he’d teleported up against, carefully skirting the edges of the Light dappling the ground, bringing him within two or three yalms of the Exarch, though he has to pick his way around the detritus of this family’s existence as he does. The girl’s eyes snap to him as he does, but she doesn’t move except to lean her cheek against the Exarch’s shoulder. There is a rather worrying glassiness in her gaze, if he were to concern himself with such things.

The Exarch’s breaths are coming in short, shallow pants, he notices absently. Pain? “...before,” and the man’s voice is tight, raspy. Emet-Selch knows him well enough by now to know when it is in fact pain that burdens him, and this- despite his lack of visible injury, he must have put himself in harm’s way. “I would not chance passing by if someone yet lived and abandon them to such a fate.” He breathes out, shakily, and returns his staff to his back, brushing his crystal hand gently over the girl’s hair. “...you’re safe for now, little one.”

The child does not respond.

“I believe she may have a head injury,” Emet-Selch informs the Exarch, though he has no particular reason to do so. Why should he care if a single Sundered child lives or dies? And yet…it would be too easy to recall the terrified children on the streets of Amaurot, fleeing the beasts they could not contain. “You may wish to tend to it, should you desire her survival. Considering your boundless compassion for these poor creatures you consider mankind, I assume you do.”

He paces a few more steps away and crouches down to absently rifle through one of the crates - dried fruits and meats, a sack of nuts, a small store of root vegetables, nothing particularly interesting. Behind him he can hear the Exarch murmuring a quiet thank you before the aether ripples with the telltale shimmer of a healing spell; Emet-Selch does not watch, just moves on to investigate the rest of the supplies, half out of curiosity and half because it gives him something to do while he waits. Perhaps the Exarch will be more inclined to conversation once the child has been seen to and calmed.

Perhaps, Emet-Selch considers, he ought to offer the Exarch healing for whatever injuries he bears - but he has never been much of a healer, and there is a difference between providing some oblique aid to his enemy that they may continue their game and directly intervening in affairs that could hinder the Rejoining. The Exarch may be the most intriguing and capable enemy he has had the chance to face in quite some time, but he still stands solidly against the Ardor, and he has never entertained the delusion that the Exarch would set aside their enmity to join with him, no matter that he would make such an excellent addition to their cause. No matter that Emet-Selch has of late found himself wondering more and more what the Exarch would be like, were he Unsundered, soul as bright as it should be. As clever as he is now, Emet-Selch can only imagine what sort of mind he would have were the star whole - enough intelligence to rival Azem and their greatest researchers, he would think.

…it is a futile thought, he knows. But he does not intend to forget the soft rose color of the Exarch’s soul, and should he chance to see it again, when he and his brethren have succeeded- well.

For a few moments, the only sounds are Emet-Selch’s footsteps and quiet rummaging and the Exarch’s breathing, still too harsh and short. With little left to investigate, he eventually stands and stretches absently, turning back to the Exarch - as he watches the man finishes casting another healing spell and the last of the wounds across the girl’s skin close and fade. Not something one with no healing training whatsoever could accomplish, and Emet-Selch raises an eyebrow, musing. His power comes from the Tower, of course, but the knowledge of how to use it - perhaps it was found in the archives. The Exarch does seem to have few hobbies beyond studying and assisting his people.

Before he can question the Exarch, however, there’s a rustling of brush, the sound of wings on the air, and four middling-sized eaters wander out onto the path, drawn straight towards the Exarch and his living aether - and perhaps that would mean little at all, but one of the large winged eaters, bearing sword and shield and the ability to force a transformation, Light pulsing through its white-marble body in waves, descends from the sky, sword held in front of it and gilt wings spread to their fullest extent. The Exarch spits a curse, drawing his staff once again, and sets his feet, and the little girl whimpers and closes her eyes.

Emet-Selch leans against the overturned wagon and watches, untouched by the eaters. Their Light is antithetical to his Darkness, indeed, the brush of it burns like hot oil, but so too is his Darkness more than enough to quench their Light, and they have the intelligence to know his aether would not sate their hunger. He is of no danger as long as he does not come face-to-face with a Lightwarden.

The Exarch does not have that same assurance, and the tension in the corners of his mouth, his pursed lips, speak to his own knowledge of such. But Emet-Selch wishes to observe, and he would truly be a fool were he to intervene now, when this will give him an excellent view of how his enemy handles being pressed and when actively fighting back against the Light, within the Light, would exhaust him far more than he is willing to extend himself for a Sundered soul who would oppose the Ardor.

The Exarch takes three steps back, dodging clawed swipes from two of the lesser eaters, and casts a spell - ice that freezes one of the eaters in place, something far less intensive than the fire he had been calling moments ago. The trembling in his muscles is more pronounced now, as is the sweat beading on his plaster-pale skin, and Emet-Selch takes a step of his own forward despite himself, unease stirring low in his gut. The Exarch is meant to be his opponent in the long game, not to get himself killed by sin eaters over a mere child unlikely to survive to adulthood before the shard is lost-

The greater eater swings its sword in a wide, sweeping motion, and the Exarch grits his teeth and raises his staff, summoning a shimmering barrier into existence around him, a spell clearly adapted from the Allagan defense technology he uses to defend the Crystarium. An impressive display of skill - and though the lesser eaters throw themselves at it, it continues to hold, even as the Exarch shifts and begins to mutter a teleportation incantation under his breath, gathering his aether to spirit himself and the child away. A wise decision, in the face of this threat, Emet-Selch thinks, though it leaves the eaters free to advance on the nearby village. The Exarch’s vaunted compassion, it seems, does not extend to risking his own life.

The greater eater floats back a couple of fulms, raises its sword again, and with little fanfare slices the blade through the air again - and this time, a bright bolt of Light sears forward off it, sharp enough Emet-Selch is momentarily dazed, his sight vaguely scorched by the intensity. The Exarch’s barrier distorts, twists, and collapses in on itself in a rush of aether, the distraction enough to break his teleportation spell before he can execute it, and though the lesser eaters hiss in something that approximates joy, they do not move. Instead they leave it to their seeming commander to lunge forward with a blinding rush, sword held at the ready.

The girl screams, terror so all-consuming Emet-Selch can nearly feel it. Something cracks-

A sound claws itself free from the Exarch’s throat that sounds nearly inhuman. Emet-Selch blinks, then blinks again, and - the Exarch has thrown his crystal arm, claimed by the Tower, between the eater’s sword and the girl he carries, and the tip of the blade is embedded in the sapphire crystal, leaving fissures spreading up the arm from the point of impact and a deep gouge in the flat of his arm just above his wrist. Emet-Selch sucks in a breath despite himself, because the Exarch may be tied to the Tower but that does not mean he cannot feel pain, and the force it would take to shatter the parts of him he has given over-

“Emet-Selch.” The Exarch’s voice is hoarse to the point of near-unrecognizability, taut with pain and desperation, stumbling along the edge of begging. He has never, ever spoken such in Emet-Selch’s presence. “Can you just- for just one moment, will you please pretend that I mean something to you?”

For- for some reason, Emet-Selch feels the words like an impact hard enough to steal the air from his lungs, like a constriction around his throat, like the knife of his loneliness he has lived with for so long has not only driven between his ribs but twisted. The eater draws its sword back once again, raising it for the kill - or to attempt to turn both man and child, more like. He thinks of- afternoons spent deep in debate over the minutiae of the Tower’s function and the technology the Crystarium survives on, Allag’s history and the actions of Emet-Selch’s own order. Of the lounge they typically take their tea in and how it has been Umbrally-aligned for decades, despite the extra drain that would put on the Tower’s resources in this climate. Of how eager the Exarch is to present Emet-Selch with new volumes of theater, whenever one of his people manages to find or pen one. Of the indisputable fact that this enmity between them, this game they play, has caught and held his attention in a way nothing has since his son died and he once again gave up on the Sundered entirely.

…he is here, in this Light-suffused forest, is he not?

Pretend that I mean something to you.

That is truly not so difficult, in the grand scheme of things. The Exarch yet has secrets Emet-Selch has not divined, after all, and it would be a shame to strike him from the game board before they are revealed.

In the breath between heartbeats, Emet-Selch steps through the rift and puts himself neatly between the eaters and the Exarch. A simple twist of his will brings up an unwavering shield of translucent violet - the greater eater’s sword bounces harmlessly off it, the lesser eaters’ claws are a barely-noticeable scratching, and he could maintain this indefinitely, as long as no great amount of Light was brought to bear against it or him, but considering the sound of the Exarch’s ragged breathing and the quiet, poorly-stifled noises of pain, he doubts the man has the focus to teleport at the moment, and- well. Perhaps he finds himself annoyed, and the loss of five eaters will hardly matter as long as the Wardens remain. To truly fight back will drain him, yes, but it is difficult to care.

He musters his aether against the heavy, suffocating Light, lifts his hand, and snaps his fingers.

It’s an easy visualization. Large, dagger-shaped blades of shadow leap forth from him and slam into the eaters, then burst in a rush of Dark aether that instantly vaporizes the lesser eaters and sends their commander crumpling to the ground, sword and shield both falling from its hands and fading into the aether. Emet-Selch takes a step forward, extends his hand, and summons a bolt of Darkness to send directly at its chest, and that last pulse of aether is enough to dissipate it as well - for which he is grateful, because the moment he drops his hand and lets go of the shield he can feel the drain, can feel the Light on the back of his neck, as hot as the desert sun, burning his bones. 

Heavens. The things he does for-

Emet-Selch shakes his head, rubs at his temples, and breathes through the discomfort. Brushes invisible dust from his palms. Turns back to the Exarch and crosses the space between them to take the man’s crystal arm in his hands, shifting his vision to that second sight to peer at the aether currents within. They’re pale and distorted, entirely broken wherever the cracks have spread, and he grimaces at the sight, absently running one finger carefully over the edge of the gouge where the blade impacted.

“This will be difficult to mend, Exarch,” he murmurs, low. “You have done a great deal of damage to your aether.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Give me the child.”

The girl is crying, tiny little hiccups muffled by the Exarch’s robe, but she doesn’t fight back when he hands her over, and Emet-Selch takes her carefully in his arms and settles her against his hip, the motion familiar. Relieved thusly of his burden, the Exarch seems to- shrink, almost, resignation and exhaustion and pain weighing him down until he is but a fraction of the man Emet-Selch knows. “...if you decide our enmity ends here-” he starts, his voice rough with emotion and agony, “at the least take her to the Crystarium, so she can live what life she has left.”

For a moment, Emet-Selch ignores him entirely. “Shh,” he murmurs to the girl instead, drawing on old memories of the mortal children he’s raised - both those he loved and those he did not - of children from long-ago Amaurot which he had on occasion been made to entertain. He had not minded, in truth; they had been discussing having children of their own, once. He lifts his free hand to gently stroke through her hair and over her ears, swaying her back and forth and humming snatches of an ancient lullaby until she quiets, the sniffles fading into shaky breaths. Only then does he carefully cast the lightest of sleep spells over her small frame - she seems unharmed, between the Exarch’s healing and protection, but distress will only keep her compliant for so long, and better to deliver her into the hands of her people docile than clinging to an injured man - or worse, him.

He does not- care about one lone child. He does not. The Exarch merely asked him to pretend, and thus he shall.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he finally says, directed at the Exarch, and heaves a sigh, turning to look at the other man again. “Come, then. There is little I can do for your physical injuries - I leave the frailties of your mortal flesh in the hands of your fellow mortals - but I believe I can do something to mend your arm, if only in part. But make no mistake; you will owe me for this.”

The Exarch laughs, pained and cracked, wincing and curling forward over his ribs as he does, the breath wheezing out of him. “...I shall have to break out my stash of emergency plays from Voeburt, then,” he manages after a moment, and Emet-Selch raises his eyebrows.

“You have plays from Voeburt?” he asks, torn between impressed and irritated that the man has never mentioned this before - and then he shakes himself. This is hardly the time. “Never mind that, I am not so easily distracted by theater as you believe me to be. A favor, Exarch, though I will allow you this: as I did not endanger mine own people in this intervention, neither will I ask you to risk yours. Now come with me before you collapse. I have no desire to be the target of your head chirurgeon’s ire when your heroic, self-sacrificial bent is certainly no fault of mine.”

“...then it must be before the endgame, I would think…” the Exarch rasps out, leaning heavily against his staff and taking a few shaking steps. “I look forward to seeing what you will demand of me. And to watching the chirurgeons yell at you shortly.”

Emet-Selch rolls his eyes and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from retorting, though he would dearly like to. Instead he shifts the girl in his arms to free one hand, reaches out, and wraps his hand around the Exarch’s upper arm - his flesh-and-blood one - and unceremoniously yanks all three of them through a rather rough teleport, which he would feel slightly bad about were he not annoyed. The moment they appear in the Crystarium’s infirmary, the Exarch is staggering sideways into his chest, and it is a sign of his exhaustion more than anything else that he simply stays there, trembling and wan, leaning heavily with his face tucked against Emet-Selch’s shoulder.

Emet-Selch lets him, and does not think about why.

The head chirurgeon, as it turns out, does not yell at him, though only because of the sleeping child in his arms. Instead she scolds both of them in a furious but low voice before guiding them to one of the few private rooms and immediately fussing over the Exarch; another one of the infirmary’s staff comes to relieve Emet-Selch of the child, whose name, according to the Exarch, is Lyna. Emet-Selch accompanies them to put her to bed in another room where they can examine her, and he suggests with an idleness he doesn’t quite feel that they leave her in the care of the Exarch, once he is fit for it. She is a terrified child, after all, and she will want the familiar. Beyond that, she is likely to consider the man who saved her life as safe, a courtesy he doubts she will be so willing to give strangers.

The chirurgeons seem surprised, but they do not disagree, and he is quite satisfied with that. The girl thus dealt with, he returns to find the Exarch with some faint color returned to his cheeks, enduring a lecture from his healer about what sorts of movements and magical exertions he’s allowed while his ribs and aether reserves recover. It is not a lecture Emet-Selch has been on the receiving side of in quite some time, and for that he is quite grateful. Eventually, however, the Exarch is free, and Emet-Selch convinces him to return straight to the Tower rather than checking in on Lyna mostly by not giving him a choice in the matter, a quite useful and effective strategy. The Exarch is too exhausted, it seems, to truly argue back.

It is not until they are ensconced in the Umbrally-aligned lounge - which finally eases the strain of holding his essence together under the Light’s endless onslaught, given the energy he’d expended - and the Exarch is seated on the couch that Emet-Selch sighs. “Well, very well then, let us get this supremely unpleasant business over with. I do not ask you to trust me, merely that you do not intervene; if this does not work as I intend I will be the one most suited to undoing it, and should you distract me in the moment of casting I cannot predict what might occur. It takes only a passing thought to disrupt this magic.”

“...might I know what it is you’re doing?” the Exarch asks as he drops down to sit next to him on the couch. Even with the cowl hiding most of his face, he is clearly exhausted beyond belief and still in no small amount of pain. His voice is thin and strained, wavering. 

Emet-Selch takes his crystal arm into his lap, running his fingers over its surface, carefully tracing the bumps and textured surface, bringing to mind the complex web of aether currents the Exarch has over many years bored into the crystal. He thinks of patterns and fractals and facets, the structure of crystals, the wholeness of the arm itself, and he draws ever-so-slightly on the Lifestream itself, unwilling to pour his own Dark-aspected aether into this. “Weaving the fabric of reality,” he murmurs, only half-paying attention to the words, eyes falling closed. Creation without a set concept is a risk, especially without an encyclopedic knowledge of that which one wishes to create, but beyond the cool weight of the crystal in his lap right now there are things Emet-Selch knows that will make up for the lack.

He knows the way the Exarch moves - the way he writes, the way he gestures, the way his fingers curl around a mug of tea or a pen or an Allagan relic. He knows the gentleness this arm is capable of, as evidenced by how tenderly he’d healed Lyna; he knows, too, the strength in it, as unyielding as the stone it is made of. Near seven decades he has watched this Exarch, has seen the transformation progress as the Tower takes its due for the magicks he wields, and beyond all academic knowledge he knows the essence of the man in front of him. They are but two sides of the same coin, after all, bound by duty to be in opposition and yet terribly alike, he and the Crystal Exarch.

The power of the Lifestream is a bright, raging thing, a river even he, with his rare gift of control over its eddies, only skims the surface of unless he has no other choice. He lets the pulse of life itself swirl around him, pool beneath his hands, and he holds the fullness of his understanding of this broken limb in his mind and snaps his fingers.

When he opens his eyes, exhaling slowly to let the energies of the Lifestream fade away, the Exarch’s arm is whole and unbroken once more, only a faint cluster of hairline cracks remaining where the worst of the breakage had been. For a moment he pays them no mind - he had not expected the magic to entirely mend the arm, after all, considering he was treading the line between working from a concept and working from belief - instead focusing to once again study the aether. The Exarch’s exhaustion means the flow of aether through his arm is sluggish at best, not ideal for confirming the recreation worked correctly, and- well. Emet-Selch has done this once before, has he not?

He pours a small fraction of his own aether into the man’s arm, watching as it bolsters the flow - there are a few minor hiccups but with some time those will, he hopes, smooth out - and the Exarch lets out a heavy sigh of relief and slumps sideways, tension leaving his body in a rush as he drops his head to rest against Emet-Selch’s shoulder. Foolish of him, Emet-Selch thinks, to let his guard down so around an enemy, whether they have been playing this game for decades or no. He sweeps one thumb absently back and forth across the now-smooth crystal, shifting slightly to let the Exarch’s warm weight settle more comfortably against his side, and shakes his head, reaching one hand up to carefully adjust the Exarch’s cowl before it can slide too far back from his face.

Perhaps it is the state he is in, pushing him to think so little of being vulnerable. It would be unsporting to take advantage of it.

For a few moments there is silence. Emet-Selch lets his aether settle and taper when the Exarch finally stirs again - which is good, he had begun to worry if the man was falling asleep - and sighs once more. He does not straighten, but he does extend his arm and twist it carefully back and forth, testing. Most of the motion is smooth, but his wrist hitches when he rotates it, and Emet-Selch frowns.

Ah, of course. The remaining cracks will need to be filled in if they are to be kept from causing problems. He looks more closely at them, admittedly curious - it is strange, as much as he had not expected the magic to fully succeed, for it to work as cleanly as it had only to leave such a small blemish behind - only for a cold weight to settle low in his stomach as he does.

Because he recognizes the pattern. The lines of it are thin and simplistic, barely visible against the veining, but there all the same - a constellation cut into crystal with such perfect precision it cannot be anything but a mark.

A constellation. His constellation, the sign of his seat.

Perhaps his mind had wandered during the creation after all.

He exhales heavily through his nose, swallows, and does not say a word, and the Exarch must be too tired to notice, because he simply rubs his flesh hand over the constellation and stays tilted into Emet-Selch’s side. “...thank you for this kindness, Emet-Selch,” he says very softly, his voice still somewhat raw but much of the pained tension from earlier missing.

“It was not a kindness,” Emet-Selch reminds him pointedly. They are enemies; it would not do for the Exarch to forget such, not when they yet have all the endgame to play, and he remains deeply curious how the Exarch intends to thwart his plans. “I will expect you to repay the favor when I ask for it, Exarch. You have ever kept your promises. ‘Twould be a shame indeed for that to change now.”

“I do not intend to let my debts go unpaid, or any kindnesses go unanswered, Emet-Selch,” the Exarch answers in a similarly deliberate tone. “Regardless of which they were meant as. But this was a kindness even if you did not intend it to be such - I would have been in pain for the rest of my life without your intervention.” This, Emet-Selch knows to be true - there would have been no other way of healing or regenerating the crystal without creation magicks, and thus the wound would simply have remained, and while it would not have killed the Exarch it would have always been a hindrance. “So- thank you.”

…if the Exarch wishes to think of it as a kindness, then Emet-Selch supposes there is little harm in allowing him to. Perhaps he can leverage it for some kind of knowledge or further concession later on. When playing such a tense game against such a clever and focused foe, with the eighth Rejoining as the stakes, he would be a fool to discard any potential advantage.

(Even if he is only doing what the Exarch asked of him. Pretend that I mean something to you. How could he act any other way, in the face of such a plea? It does not mean anything - not for them, not for his purpose here, not for his duty.

Perhaps, if he reminds himself enough times, he will not risk forgetting that truth.)

His people, his city, and his star hang in the balance, after all.

But for the moment, he can allow the Exarch to remain leaning against his side, a warmth that eases the ever-present ache of grief and loneliness in his chest, and perhaps the Exarch is not the only one who would like to pretend.

[csuitebitches]

Hi! You're amazing and your page is amazing. I'm a girl who's really interested in growing and building my life. My mental illness has taken so much from me, so I feel I am starting life over this year like a little baby while everyone else is an adult. I often feel VERY insecure around friends who are normal and have achieved so much and have not made the many mistakes that I have.

I now have been isolating myself because I usually feel so ashamed of myself when I'm with them. I barely have any cooking skills as a female, I've never held a real job, I never network or connect with anyone, I have felt so miserable with a scowl on my face everyday, and I barely know what I'm doing with my life now in college.

As I am now working on my character flaws, how do I still feel I am loveable to my friends, stop pushing everyone away, and stop feeling like hiding when I'm with them?

everyone was once in your shoes. Were your friends born with their job? Were they born accomplished? Was Gordon Ramsey born with a knife in his hands? Have you seen the video of him crying because of his mentor Marco Pierre White?

Ive lightly burned my fingers, my food, set off the university dorm fire alarm because of my initial cooking skills. I’ve melted a spatula. I’ve burned countless toasts, broken glass bottles, had a whole bug infestation because I forgot to close the fridge tightly when I left uni for summer. Then I learned. I watched more YouTube videos. I practiced cooking. I can objectively say I cook better than my mom today because I made the effort to learn.

A master was also an amateur once.

“I never network with anyone” it’s good that you can admit the things you need to work on. The way you address problems like this is:

a) are there networking opportunities near you?

b) can you look up conferences and opportunities near you?

you assume that your friends have not made as many mistakes as you have. Do you go on a radio show and tell the whole world about every mistake you’ve made in your life? Even with close friends, one does not always reveal every single thing or sometimes, doesn’t feel the need to.

your journey is your own. The exam paper of your life does not have the same answers that your friends have written.

you’re not going to magically wake up accomplished, you’re going have to work towards it. And the best part is, you’re in college! That’s such a great stepping stone because you’re in an environment that’s programmed to help you grow if you can use your cards right.

can you join any extra curricular clubs or activities? Or ask your professors or the counsellor for internship opportunities? Can you organise an event like a bake sale or something for the local charity? Can you take up volunteering opportunities?

your insecurities are holding you back. You’re not any less lovable than the friends and family in your life. You have control over your own life. When you choose to actively put yourself out there, start socialising, engaging with people - which can be difficult for some people but always rewarding - you’ll start seeing change.

unfortunately the world doesn’t revolve around us. If you’re unhappy with how things are, the remote control of your life is in your hands.

you’re already working on yourself which is great. That means you have the intrinsic motivation to do something. It’s time to stop moaning and whining and start creating a plan of action.

tackle things one thing at a time. Don’t start with 10 things.

From your message it seems like:

You need help with adulting - cooking.

job - ask your college counsellor/ professor of your favourite subject for internship opportunity, on campus or off campus.

purpose -find a hobby, sport, volunteering cause, something that you like that you actually enjoy.

look at these three problems in the best positive light. It means you get to learn all these things you didn’t know! It means you’ll be able to meet new people who could become really good connections!

make your life simple. Progress doesn’t mean going from burning the kitchen down to cooking a three course meal. It means taking one week to learn how to fry an egg. It makes taking a week to learn how to make a decent pancake or some rice. It means screwing up 10 times and then finally getting it right on the 11th.

allow yourself to make mistakes. Acknowledge to yourself about them and move on.

Do not let your shame hold you back from living your life. We torture ourselves in imagination more than we actually suffer in real life.

I’ve felt embarrassed countless times in my life. I’ve slipped up, messed up, forgotten things, done what I wasn’t supposed to, held my tears back, been scolded, full blown cried, scribbled aggressively in my diary, ranted to my mom, had dramatic fights with my imaginary boss in the shower, woken up late, screwed up royally in important meetings. These are not original experiences. These are universal experiences. Anyone who is telling you that they have never felt this is a dirty liar.

I wouldn’t exchange those mistakes for the world.

How do you think I’m able to give you advice on this if I didn’t go through those similar experiences?

If you want to make changes in your life that badly, start today. Set three simple goals that are achievable. Set deadlines. Be your own parent. Get your life together.