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fandomweekly2025-04-14 09:41 pm
quicksilverfox3) wrote in fandomweekly2025-04-14 09:41 pm
Entry tags:
[#256] barely a choice at all (SVSSS)
Theme Prompt: 256 - Man's best friend
Title: barely a choice at all
Fandom: Scum Villain Self Saving System
Rating/Warnings: General
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Luo Binghe finds a surprise contender for his Shizun's affection.
“Shizun.” Luo Binghe moves the tray from his hip to in front of him, the bowls rattling slightly with a motion. A wisp of steam escapes from one of them, the scent rich and sweet as it begins to colour the surrounding air. Something drops to the floor. “Is there something this disciple should know about?”
There was a play in the village a few weeks ago. Luo Binghe only attended with the others because Shizun insisted with one of his hands locked onto Luo Binghe’s curls as he did so like they were wondrously sewn together, almost never to be parted. It had been interesting enough, not as good as spending time with Shizun, but one scene burns through Luo Binghe’s memory now: one character, concealed beneath a blanket, while another tried to distract the attention of the guard.
His Shizun is doing an excellent impression of that distracting character now.
Shen Qinqiu laughs, slightly high-pitched, a touch strangled, as if Luo Binghe wouldn’t notice. The mess of blankets behind him on the bed moves.
Luo Binghe isn’t verging on murder. No, he’s past that now, anger frozen in his veins in a thousand glittering shards. If he bleeds now, it would mark the floors he’s spent so long scrubbing, so he’ll have to ensure that Shizun’s bedmate doesn’t land a blow on him. He only wants Shizun to be happy and if this paltry stand-in is needed until Luo Binghe is old enough, has proven himself worthy of being everything Shizun deserves, then so be it. He’s not jealous, that would imply he considers the other to be an equal.
He’s not.
Shen Qingqiu leans back, his hand knitted in the blankets behind him. The folds disguise the overall outline of what is there, but Luo Binghe can still make out the curve of a torso, the edge of a shoulder.
“There is nothing amiss, Luo Binghe,” Shizun says, lying with a pretty smile that doesn’t reach his frantic eyes. There’s a high flush of colour in his cheeks that blooms down his neck, the hollow of his collarbone, exposed further as the neck of his robes slides open, threatening to display his fragile chest.
Luo Binghe allows himself a glance, a morsel thrown to a starving dog under the guise of kindness. It will only sharpen the hunger, the realisation of everything he is denying to himself, but that is the nature of beasts. An endless repetition of things he should know better if he didn’t have the instincts he does, the urge to bite and snap and snarl.
“If Shizun is sure,” Luo Binghe demures. He’ll allow Shizun to win this battle in order to win the war. He moves forward, kneeling next to the low table, and begins to place the dishes out, one by deliberate one. There’s congee, made how Shizun likes it best with a delicate slice of green onions on top; a few cookies made with green tea, the colour still present after baking, the scent sweet; chicken shredded into a broth, egg mixed through in delicate golden ribbons—
A creature barrels out from behind Shizun, leaping at the table, and Luo Binghe has a choice to make: to block its advances towards the food, wouldn’t be difficult with his Shizun’s teachings, or to not.
In the end, there’s no choice at all.
The beast barrels towards, into Luo Binghe, a mass of fur and quills, two dark eyes and an open maw. Luo Binghe collapses beneath the weight of it, a pitiful cry escaping his mouth as heavy paws indent his chest, the beast using him to throw itself upon the table.
“No!” Shizun dives from the bed, the sheet now vacant, billowing like a cape behind him. He’s scantily dressed, a thin robe knotted once at the waist and already further down both shoulders with his movement, a loose pair of trousers beneath it, his feet bare and dirt-streaked.
He scoops up Luo Binghe without a thought of propriety and holds him on his feet, smooths warm hands over his cheeks, his hair, down the line of his throat before Shizun’s attention snaps beyond Luo Binghe’s shoulder, a dawning look of horror in his eyes.
“What have you got in your mouth?” Shizun cries, his hands fluttering over Luo Binghe’s shoulders before he settles, his hands wrapped around Luo Binghe’s waist in an embrace as he presses his forehead to Luo Binghe’s shoulder. “What a nightmare.”
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe murmurs, pushes a brief tremor into the word and blinks wide and wet at the other man. Underhanded, but Luo Binghe is a young man at war with the world, he’ll use every weapon in his arsenal to win.
Shizun’s hands cup his cheeks once more, his fingertips brushing through the base of the curls falling in front of Luo Binghe’s ears. “Are you hurt? The Lesser Spotted Rose-Hound isn’t poisonous, but I haven’t trimmed his claws yet. Liu-shidi just dumped him in my lap and it was sweet, I mean, they’re only found in some select regions to the east, but no food, no proper housing, not even a small heads-up that the beast would be alive this time, I mean, who does that?”
Luo Binghe’s bottom lip trembles, and a soft sound escapes Shizun, his grip tightening on Luo Binghe’s face for a moment before he forces himself to relax. In the mirror behind Shizun, the hateful creature swallows the remnants of the chicken, licks curved teeth, and somehow looks smug as two tails wag, knocking against the floor with a distinct heartbeat. It’s a clumsy-looking beast, dark fur bedraggled around its neck and paler markings over its flanks with sharp spikes protruding from the jab of the elbows.
Again, a choice that is no choice at all as Shizun starts extracting himself, moving away in fragments, his attention returning to the unneeded surprise dropped into his lap. Another complication in Luo Binghe’s plan.
Luo Binghe bursts into tears.
Title: barely a choice at all
Fandom: Scum Villain Self Saving System
Rating/Warnings: General
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Luo Binghe finds a surprise contender for his Shizun's affection.
“Shizun.” Luo Binghe moves the tray from his hip to in front of him, the bowls rattling slightly with a motion. A wisp of steam escapes from one of them, the scent rich and sweet as it begins to colour the surrounding air. Something drops to the floor. “Is there something this disciple should know about?”
There was a play in the village a few weeks ago. Luo Binghe only attended with the others because Shizun insisted with one of his hands locked onto Luo Binghe’s curls as he did so like they were wondrously sewn together, almost never to be parted. It had been interesting enough, not as good as spending time with Shizun, but one scene burns through Luo Binghe’s memory now: one character, concealed beneath a blanket, while another tried to distract the attention of the guard.
His Shizun is doing an excellent impression of that distracting character now.
Shen Qinqiu laughs, slightly high-pitched, a touch strangled, as if Luo Binghe wouldn’t notice. The mess of blankets behind him on the bed moves.
Luo Binghe isn’t verging on murder. No, he’s past that now, anger frozen in his veins in a thousand glittering shards. If he bleeds now, it would mark the floors he’s spent so long scrubbing, so he’ll have to ensure that Shizun’s bedmate doesn’t land a blow on him. He only wants Shizun to be happy and if this paltry stand-in is needed until Luo Binghe is old enough, has proven himself worthy of being everything Shizun deserves, then so be it. He’s not jealous, that would imply he considers the other to be an equal.
He’s not.
Shen Qingqiu leans back, his hand knitted in the blankets behind him. The folds disguise the overall outline of what is there, but Luo Binghe can still make out the curve of a torso, the edge of a shoulder.
“There is nothing amiss, Luo Binghe,” Shizun says, lying with a pretty smile that doesn’t reach his frantic eyes. There’s a high flush of colour in his cheeks that blooms down his neck, the hollow of his collarbone, exposed further as the neck of his robes slides open, threatening to display his fragile chest.
Luo Binghe allows himself a glance, a morsel thrown to a starving dog under the guise of kindness. It will only sharpen the hunger, the realisation of everything he is denying to himself, but that is the nature of beasts. An endless repetition of things he should know better if he didn’t have the instincts he does, the urge to bite and snap and snarl.
“If Shizun is sure,” Luo Binghe demures. He’ll allow Shizun to win this battle in order to win the war. He moves forward, kneeling next to the low table, and begins to place the dishes out, one by deliberate one. There’s congee, made how Shizun likes it best with a delicate slice of green onions on top; a few cookies made with green tea, the colour still present after baking, the scent sweet; chicken shredded into a broth, egg mixed through in delicate golden ribbons—
A creature barrels out from behind Shizun, leaping at the table, and Luo Binghe has a choice to make: to block its advances towards the food, wouldn’t be difficult with his Shizun’s teachings, or to not.
In the end, there’s no choice at all.
The beast barrels towards, into Luo Binghe, a mass of fur and quills, two dark eyes and an open maw. Luo Binghe collapses beneath the weight of it, a pitiful cry escaping his mouth as heavy paws indent his chest, the beast using him to throw itself upon the table.
“No!” Shizun dives from the bed, the sheet now vacant, billowing like a cape behind him. He’s scantily dressed, a thin robe knotted once at the waist and already further down both shoulders with his movement, a loose pair of trousers beneath it, his feet bare and dirt-streaked.
He scoops up Luo Binghe without a thought of propriety and holds him on his feet, smooths warm hands over his cheeks, his hair, down the line of his throat before Shizun’s attention snaps beyond Luo Binghe’s shoulder, a dawning look of horror in his eyes.
“What have you got in your mouth?” Shizun cries, his hands fluttering over Luo Binghe’s shoulders before he settles, his hands wrapped around Luo Binghe’s waist in an embrace as he presses his forehead to Luo Binghe’s shoulder. “What a nightmare.”
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe murmurs, pushes a brief tremor into the word and blinks wide and wet at the other man. Underhanded, but Luo Binghe is a young man at war with the world, he’ll use every weapon in his arsenal to win.
Shizun’s hands cup his cheeks once more, his fingertips brushing through the base of the curls falling in front of Luo Binghe’s ears. “Are you hurt? The Lesser Spotted Rose-Hound isn’t poisonous, but I haven’t trimmed his claws yet. Liu-shidi just dumped him in my lap and it was sweet, I mean, they’re only found in some select regions to the east, but no food, no proper housing, not even a small heads-up that the beast would be alive this time, I mean, who does that?”
Luo Binghe’s bottom lip trembles, and a soft sound escapes Shizun, his grip tightening on Luo Binghe’s face for a moment before he forces himself to relax. In the mirror behind Shizun, the hateful creature swallows the remnants of the chicken, licks curved teeth, and somehow looks smug as two tails wag, knocking against the floor with a distinct heartbeat. It’s a clumsy-looking beast, dark fur bedraggled around its neck and paler markings over its flanks with sharp spikes protruding from the jab of the elbows.
Again, a choice that is no choice at all as Shizun starts extracting himself, moving away in fragments, his attention returning to the unneeded surprise dropped into his lap. Another complication in Luo Binghe’s plan.
Luo Binghe bursts into tears.
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