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the-sympathetic-villain · 3 years

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A Life For A Life - Chapter 3

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A/N: It took me a while to circle back to this one, but on the bright side, I’ve written ahead so the next two chapters or so should follow shortly after this one! :)

Prompt by @local-space-case: Prince Roman and his two loyal friends, Patton and Logan, are on the hunt for a dragon. Meanwhile, Dragonshifter!Janus is just trying to find the right herbs to cure a sick/injured Dragonshifter!Virgil. Bonus points for Anxciet and/or Protective Remus.

Word Count: 2006

Chapter warnings: Romantic relationships, Mentions of killing, Mentions of blood, Mentions of death/dying, Injuries, Poisoning (Let me know if you’d like me to add anything!)

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“By all standards, sire, I cannot recommend this course of action.” Logan stated, noting the frustration in the prince's eyes as he paced the cave's entrance. “There are far too many unknown variables involved here for me to conclude this is a safe course of action.”

“We can't just leave now, Logan.” Roman growled through gritted teeth as he gestured to the dark opening into the earth. “The beast was ours to take.”

“We are forbidden from entering the tunnels, my prince. They are far too dangerous.”

Roman let out a groan, looking helplessly at Logan's stern expression. “This journey is meant to prove that I am worthy of ascending to the crown. What kind of king would I be if I turned tail and ran at the very first sign of trouble?”

“A living one, Roman.” Logan sighed as gestured toward Roman. “This trial is not merely meant to challenge your physical strength but your wisdom as well. Your bravery is admirable, but your safety should be your first priority.”

“You said yourself the beast is unlikely to keep moving for much longer.” Roman pleaded, moving towards Logan. “More than likely all we need to do is retrieve our trophy. I'd wager we'd be in and out in under an hour.”

“I'm not so certain, your highness.” Logan whispered as he raised a finger to his jaw, pondering the situation. “Something has changed for the creature in the last stretch of the journey.”

Roman paused. His gaze lingered on Logan for a moment before following the man's gaze to the trampled undergrowth leading to the cave. “What do you mean?”

“At the last point where the creature has stopped to rest, blood had pooled on the ground.” Logan mused as he pointed to the trampled underbrush along their path. “I see no trace of blood here and I believe it is self-evident it is unusual that the trail seemed to end there.”

“How could that be?”

“I am uncertain.” Logan let out a breath, straightening his glasses. “But to me, this indicates there is even more reason not to interfere with forces unknown.”

Roman took in the look on Logan’s face for a moment before turning to the cave in frustration. “I know you’re right, but the beast cannot have healed itself. We may not know everything we are facing, but surely it is a simpler task than starting over.”

“Your safety is paramount, Roman.” Logan's gaze dropped and he crossed his arm across his chest. “We have to act rationally.”

“You have to be as disappointed as I am, Logan.” Roman interrupted with growing desperation. “Finding another feat to prove my worth could take weeks or months.”

“I know.”

“Logan—"

“It is still preferable to witnessing your death, Prince Roman.”

Roman paused. Logan's words felt ice-cold as the man’s empty stare remained trained on the ground.

“I cannot lose you." Logan continued. His muscles went limp with surrender as his façade dropped. “That would be a far worse outcome than needing to remain patient for the right opportunity.”

“Logan—” Roman dropped his voice to a whisper as he stepped toward the man. “—None of the feats that would satisfy the court of my competency are without risk.”

“Everything we encounter above ground is a calculated risk,” Logan clung to his reasoning, even as it slipped through his fingers. “but the underground of the forest is home to the most dangerous creatures in the world. Magical creatures, Roman.”

“Well, that’s why I have you, right?”

Logan’s eyes tipped to meet Roman's soft smile and his resolution to stop the prince faltered.

“If my strength fails, we still have your magic." Roman whispered with a smile. “Right. Lo?”

Logan’s heart fluttered, weak to the adoring glimmer in Roman’s eye as the prince caught Logan’s waist.

“I do believe it goes against the rules for me to help you accomplish your task.”

“I'm not asking you to help me cheat,” Roman reassured him, raising a hand to Logan’s cheek. “but if events take a turn and I'm unable to complete my task, you can get us out safely. Right?”

“You’re right. Strictly speaking, it is not against regulation for me to assist you in fleeing a failed task.”

Roman let out a soft breath as Logan leaned into his hand. “Then what are we risking, aside from a chance for me to give you your ‘happily ever after' a bit sooner?”

“Roman, your task is meant to be solitary.”

“My task is meant to show that the country’s leadership is in capable hands.” Roman whispered bringing Logan’s knuckles to his lips. “You are my strength, Logan. I would have to be a fool to ignore that.”

Logan felt a redness dust his cheeks as Roman’s fingers curled into his own.

“You are my shining starlight and I am so deeply in love with you that the rest of the world looks dull in comparison.” Roman breathed as he admired the subtle beauty of Logan’s smile. “I want to shower you with affection from the moment you open your eyes until you fall asleep in my arms at night. Hiding behind formality—Not being allowed to court you until I finish this trial—It's tearing me apart.”

“Roman, you are too good to me.” Logan whispered as the prince pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I do believe we just covered that I am not able to be good enough to you.”

Logan smiled at the prince’s chuckling. “That is not the issue. You are simply restricted by your position.”

Roman smirked as he brushed Logan’s soft hair out of his eyes. “Does that mean you’ll allow me the opportunity to ease the burden of our restrictions?”

“I'll follow you anywhere, Roman. If this is what you choose to do, you’ll have my support.”

“Good,” Roman let out a breathy laugh as he peeked over Logan’s shoulder at Patton's exasperated expression. “I'd kiss you right now, but I do believe your brother may consider regicide if I do.”

“No, my Cain instinct is much stronger than th—"

“He wouldn’t—” Logan hissed, hushing Patton with a glare.

Patton pursed his lips and stuck his tongue out at Logan.

“Patton, I swear—”

“Lo, relax.” Roman laughed, carefully catching Logan’s arm as he turned to scold Patton. “He's right. We have dragged him across half the countryside without considering his opinion.”

“It is his job.”

Roman grip on Logan’s softened as he glanced between Logan and Patton. “Job or not, Patton is more than an attendant. He's my future brother-in-law."

Logan blinked at Roman before letting out a reluctant sigh and shifting his gaze to Patton.

“You’re right.” Logan paused as Patton raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Patton, I’m sorry. This journey should have been a chance for you to know Roman outside of all the politics and I've been wasting that opportunity. Forgive me?”

Patton smirked as Logan extended him a figurative olive branch. “Only if you accept that when I meet my future husband, I get to be as disgustingly cute as you.”

Logan couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh and shaking his head. “Deal.”

Instead of taking Logan’s hand Patton swept his older brother into a tight hug, squeezing around his waist. Logan relaxed as Patton hugged him tightly. His irritation melted away as his chest warmed with the realization that he had the two people he loved most on either side of him.

“Patton, this is going to be dangerous. If you want to wait for us here—”

“Not a chance you’re leaving me behind now.” Patton whispered as he raised his head from Logan’s shoulder, covertly wiping away a tear that threatened to fall from his eye. “This is my last chance to torment you before I have to start calling you ‘your highness’. I have to make every minute count.”

Logan smiled, glad to have Patton close as they started on the next leg of their journey. “You never have to change, Patton.”

“Thanks, Lolo.”

Roman smiled, stepping toward them as he gazed into the deep void of the cave opening. “Then, it's decided. The poison should be taking effect right about now. If we’re lucky, the beast will be dead by sundown and we'll be on out way home.”

---

“Virgil!”

Janus felt his heart drop as he stumbled to catch his lover’s arm. Virgil’s knees had buckled a half dozen times in the last hour and Janus was aching with the tension from the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“I don’t understand. The bleeding’s stopped.” Janus let loose a string of draconic curses, feeling his scales burning with rage as he adjusted his arm to support Virgil. “Your condition should be improving—”

Virgil’s lip curled in sympathy as he forced a raspy whisper past his aching throat. “Jan, you know why—”

“Don’t speak.” Janus interrupted, immediately feeling regret twist in his stomach as Virgil’s grip tightened on his arm. His soft, fingertips felt cold on Janus' skin. “You need to save your energy.”

“The game's up, Jan.” Virgil started forcefully, blinking up into Janus’ amber, slit-like eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “We got deeper into the mountain than I ever thought we would, but it’s time.”

“Don’t you dare give up on m—”

“I'm dying, Jan.” Virgil spat out, stopping Janus in his tracks. “I’m dying and I don't want to die running.”

Janus felt a lump in his throat as his heart sank in his chest. “Virgil—”

“If I’m not going to die in the open air, at least give me the dignity of dying in your arms.” Virgil pleaded, desperation clear in his voice. “Don’t let me die cold.”

Janus head spun around as a loud, sound of rocks tumbling in the narrow twists of the caves behind them signaled their hunters closing in, a few minutes behind them at most.

“Please, Jan.”

The sound of Virgil’s broken voice made Janus weak. He couldn’t deny Virgil’s pleas, not when their last moments together may be approaching.

“It's going to be okay, Virgil.”

Janus' held Virgil close as his nostrils flared with a sudden heat. His lips curled into a snarl, face elongating into his more draconic features. His teeth hardened into sharpened points, stronger than steel. The bones of his ears stretched out over his shifting bones like webbing over a bat's wings. Finally, after a moment’s shift he could feel his wings extend behind him.

The subtle stretch of his delicate wings gave him a momentary sense of relief as he curled his long tail around Virgil’s limp form. Though still in between his humanoid form and his true dragon form, he felt immediately more at ease with his body.

“Hurry, please.”

Virgil’s voice was barely audible over Janus breathing but he immediately locked on to Virgil’s arm, covering his lover with his wing as a blazing, hot flame erupted from his throat. The bright light decorated the halls with moving flashes of orange and yellow dancing on the wall and when Janus finally pulled back a hot pile of glowing embers surrounded him and Virgil.

“Virgil?” Janus whispered as he tipped his wing up to look down at Virgil.

“It's perfect.”

Janus bit back a sob as Virgil’s hand dropped from his chest. He lowered them both to the ground, feeling his lover’s life leaving his body with each new breath. Orange light illuminated Janus’ face from the glowing embers below, dancing like gems in Janus’ glistening amber eyes.

“I love you, Virgil.”

“I love you to, Jan. You’re all I ever needed.”

Janus’ tail curled around Virgil as he completed his transformation. His long talons dug into the ground as his body circled Virgil, creating a comfortable nest for his lover to rest in peace. He let out a long breath as he watched Virgil’s eyes close comfortably before his fully transformed dragon head turned toward the sound of the humans approaching.

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General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

A Life For A LIfe Taglist:

@arodynamic-enby @pixelated-pineapple @simplestoryteller @bloodymari-0666

#sanders sides #ts #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts janus #ts virgil #logince #anxceit #intruality #...eventually #A Life for a Life #villain writes

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isabilightwood · 3 years

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THE PROBLEM WITH AUTHORITY - CHAPTER 9

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

[AO3][1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]

The trees shivered under an unnatural fog. Yet the sky above was clear, save for the eerie crimson light of the stars. Every gust of wind against the leaves was a howling moan, every rustle of the undergrowth a giant spider yao gathering itself to lunge. Jin Tianyu wanted to go home. He was going to be an accountant under the Chief Cultivator and help him change the world. Important things. Not like stupid night hunting.

He didn’t need night hunting experience to do math.

But his instructors disagreed. Even Madam Jin had shaken her head when he asked for an exemption, and explained that he needed to be able to defend himself. He’d already delayed too much by avoiding night hunting until he was eighteen, two years away from his coming of age. But what could he ever need to defend himself from in Koi Tower, save the cheek-pinching fingers of elderly relatives?

And if he had to go night hunting, why did it have to be with Fan Caining? If only their regular blademaster or even Madam Jin herself ran these things. Then he would feel safe and protected, and not like his class’ ostensible teacher, appointed to ensure the group made it back in one piece, would turn tail and flee should they run into anything more dangerous than a single ghost.

Which they would. Besides their target, a guai formed from a carpenter’s worktable that had become animated, killed its owner, and run off into the woods, there had been reports of multiple yao formed from clouded leopards in these woods.

Not to mention the giant spiders. Jin Tianyu had had one on the ceiling of his room last night, and his roommate had refused to take care of it for him, right before rolling over and going right to sleep! He’d been forced to suffer through chasing it away with a broom by himself, whimpering all the while. And that was without the massive growth spurt resentful energy gave them.

Fan Caining suddenly swept his sword through the undergrowth, clearing out an ordinary pack of rodents. As he did so, something growled in the woods up ahead.

“That should draw something out.” He informed the group, though they’d been taught in class that the best way to draw out a dangerous guai or yao was to choose a battleground by scouting during the day, and using a lure flag with a limited distance to reduce the risk of attracting anything else.

How a bunch of rodents would draw out a murderous worktable, Jin Tianyu did not know. But it might bring out those leopards!

The senior disciple had a build that seemed to be made of squares, which also described his personality. Flat and boring, with a few pointy spots that made him dangerous to cross. Jin Tianyu had learned that the hard way when he suggested they might, possibly want to scout beforehand, and Fan Caining hit him hard across the back with the flat of his sword. The bruise had yet to fade.

Sure enough, a leopard yao with glowing red eyes pounced on his slightly older cousin as they entered the next clearing. She shrieked and whacked at it with her sheathed sword while Jin Tianyu and everyone else gaped. Even Fan Caining.

As his tangjie managed to get her sword between herself and the leopard, Jin Tianyu shook off his shock and drew his sword. He held it in front of himself like a spear and charged, yelling. Sword pierced flesh with sickening squelch.

He’d screwed his eyes shut to avoid looking, he realized, and opened them. The leopard was dead alright, and his tangjie alive if covered in the leopard’s blood. But it seemed Fan Caining had recovered at the same time he did. Either Jin Tianyu stabbing its gut or it’s beheading could have done it in.

“Thanks.” Tangjie said, as she used his limp arm to pull herself up. “I was starting to think no one would step in.”

The dozen other junior disciples looked sheepish.

“Of course,” Fan Caining drew himself up prouder than any peacock in the Koi Tower gardens, though she hadn’t addressed him.

The groaning noise sounded again, this time cut off with a wail.

Fan Caining waved him and the other junior disciples ahead as though nothing was wrong. Jin Tianyu cursed his luck for the thousandth time.

It was one of the outer disciples who first stepped in a trap. They tried to take another step, and found themselves immobilized at the edge of the clearing. Tangjie took a step forward and found herself shot up into the branches of the tree above. “I can’t — my hands are stuck to the branch!” She called down, in a panic.

Several other disciples moved to help, but found themselves in the same situation. Jin Tianyu’s limbs felt heavy, and he stood there dumb and immobile.

The groaning noise came again, but cut off in a laugh that could only come from a person.

Lilting laughter that sounded like his worst nightmare echoed through the clearing. Looking around, Jin Tianyu spotted a man dressed in black and silver reclining casually on a tree branch. Beautiful, in the way of jagged glass, only sharper. Like he would not only cut anything that got too close, but shred it into thin, unidentifiable slivers.

If I was better at verse, I could be a poet, and leave cultivation behind forever. Jin Tianyu thought absently.

The man looked familiar somehow, like he might have crossed paths with Jin Tianyu in passing. Except that Jin Tianyu had never left Lanling City before.

Fog rolled into the clearing, but only below the tree line, leaving the man clear and untouched above.

Jin Tianyu coughed. No, not fog. Powder.

Fan Caining stood in the center of the clearing, his sword shaking as he pointed it up towards the man. “Xue Yang? But you’re supposed to be —”

“Dead?” Xue Yang’s teeth shone white, bared in a threat, not a smile. “Yes, you did try very hard to make that happen. Too bad for you, I’m too crazy to die. Lucky for me, none of your friends are here this time to save you. Only a few tasty little children.”

To his surprise, Fan Caining did not try to run. Instead, he jumped up into the trees. “I can take you on my own, you weak little maniac.”

Xue Yang only laughed as he attacked.

Xue Yang. Jin Tianyu knew why he recognized him now. That was the former disciple brought in by the former sect leader, cast out by the current Chief Cultivator. The murderer of the Chang Clan.

He’d called them tasty.

Screw Fan Caining. They needed to get out of there.

Jin Tianyu tried to give himself leverage to get to his cousin by pushing against a tree, and found himself entirely turned around, no longer in the clearing.

He turned, and the trees seemed to spin around him. They continued to spin no matter how long he tried to stand still, stumbling, until finally he hit something solid and rough. A tree. He slid down it. Seated, his vision felt a little clearer.

He soon wished it wasn’t.

Something dropped from the tree to dangle in above Jin Tianyu. He dared to peak, and immediately regretted it.

The slack, inverted features of Fan Caining stared back, his eyes bulging from his head, tongue swollen and hanging from blue-tinged lips.

Jin Tianyu screamed.

He woke to Tangjie slapping his cheeks. “Tianyu! Tianyu, wake up!”

“What… what happened?” Jin Tianyu said groggily, as his memory began to return. He sat up straight. “Xue Yang!”

“He left, but I think there was something in that fog. You inhale the most of it, but all of us breathed in a little.” She explained. “We need to hurry back to the inn. The rest of the group has Cai-qianbei’s body. Come on, we need to go.”

She slung his arm around her neck, but as he stood, the vertigo returned in full force.

Somehow, they made it back to the inn, but he didn’t remember it.

A young man rose from a table, then he was doubled and tripled and on again. He wore gray, with a boar on his shoulder. That meant Nie. Jin Tianyu remembered that.

“Did the lot of you run all the way back here like that?”

“What?” Jin Tianyu asked, and the next thing he knew, the Nie disciple was keeping him upright by the elbow, taking his weight from Tangjie so she could collapse in a chair.

Jin Tianyu stared up into the Nie disciple’s face, at the angles of his defined cheekbones and jaw, with just the right amount of softness. Very symmetrical. He could do math with that face.

Pretty. He thought.

“Thank you.” The Nie disciple flashed him a smile that made him want to faint all over again. “You’ve got corpse poisoning. Let’s get some congee in you, now.”

He was seated and a bowl of congee appeared in front of him out of nowhere, as though it had already been prepared. Even though it was evening, and he didn’t think enough time had passed to make it.

Jin Tianyu couldn’t be sure, though. He was too busy floating, the only thing anchoring him to his body the burning pain on his tongue.

That faded as he forced down more of the bowl, and he realized it was chili. He could see the flakes reddening his bowl. Tangjie, who loved chili, had scarfed it down with no problem. Jin Tianyu tried to put down the bowl.

“No, no, you have to eat the whole thing for it to work.” The Nie disciple —who was even prettier now that his head was clearer — shoved the bowl back into his hands. “That was corpse powder you were poisoned with. You’ll die.”

Jin Tianyu shoveled the rest into his mouth.

The Nie disciple was tall. Very tall, as was the case for every Nie he’d seen with the sole exception of their current sect leader, but surprisingly thin, like he didn’t spend all his spare time building up the muscles the Nie were well known for. The hair braided up into his guan was lopsided, like he’d done it up without looking in a mirror. But even under the influence of the corpse powder, Jin Tianyu had been correct. His face was perfectly symmetrical, without a single blemish or pore to be found. It would have looked unnatural, were his perfect face not so expressive. His brows arched and lips pursed sternly, but giving the impression that he was laughing.

“Now, would you mind telling me what happened?” His beautiful savior asked.

Speaking over each other, Jin Tianyu and the other disciples hurried to do so. But by the next morning, when they gathered to leave for Koi Tower, their savior was gone.

In Nie robes and a face that did not belong to him, Wei Wuxian did not receive a second glance until he first set foot in the Unclean realm. Once there, he constantly felt eyes boring into his back, but when he glanced over, he’d find disciples hard at work on their forms or their noses buried deep in texts. Which only went to prove their curiosity.

Even with Nie Huaisang for a sect leader, it wasn’t every day that a stranger was brought into the sect and handed a high-ranking position. But the Nie Sect had few elders, and those they had were aged and gray because with saber cultivation, it was the weak who survived the longest. It seemed the Nie elders were retired in truth, pursuing hobbies like needlework and whittling and nagging their grandchildren to eat more.

By the time Wei Wuxian arrived in the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue’s body had been hidden away, though not yet buried, for reasons known only to Nie Huaisang. No one said anything about that, either.

“And since I’m the weakest of the lot, I’ll live to be a hundred,” Nie Huaisang completed explaining his free reign to lead his sect however he chose, unparalleled by any other sect even a single generation past its founding as they approached the gates to the Unclean Realm.

Right before dropping a bomb on his head in the form of unwarranted and unwanted respectability. “My closest sect siblings know my motives if not my plans, so no one will oppose appointing you to the vacant position of fourth disciple.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian sputtered, tempted to check if Nie Huaisang was running a fever. “What happened to the last fourth disciple?”

Nie Huaisang snapped his fan closed, and opened it again, staring off into the distance.

Touchy subject. Understood. “Forget I asked.”

“Let’s just say Jin Guangyao owes the Nie Clan more than one life.” Nie Huaisang said, before dragging him through the gates and launching into a series of dramatic introductions that left his head spinning.

Apparently he was going by Nie Wang, courtesy Xiaomeng now.

Wei Wuxian had not been consulted on this. Walking around with everyone thinking his name was hope felt precisely in line with Nie Huaisang’s sense of humor.

True to form, Nie Huaisang did not deign to explain until he wanted something. Despite copious amounts of pleading, Wei Wuxian was forced to wait through a restless night of nightmares and a morning while his apparent new sect leader caught up on work to get his answers.

Finally, Nie Huaisang summoned him around lunch time. He was set up in a pavilion in the garden, with a mountain of paperwork. The garden had been designed by someone with an eye for showcasing Qinghe’s foliage. A lotus pond surrounded the pavilion, and though its cultivated beauty was no match for the wildness of Yunmeng’s lakes, the carefully selected flowers staggered through the surrounding paths were like hidden gems, each intended to stand on its own.

There were birds as well, goldfinches and many others kept there not by cages, but by the feeders full of seeds spread throughout.

“So,” Wei Wuxian said as he sprawled on a bench across the table from Nie Huaisang, who did not look up from his work to greet him. “I thought I was going to be a rogue cultivator. But apparently you had other ideas.”

“If you’re going to pull this off, the easiest way to wander around without notice is as one of my disciples. As a rogue cultivator, you might gather some recognition, get invited along to visit sects and so on. As one of mine, well, there are Nie disciples everywhere.” It was deeply disconcerting to watch Nie Huaisang take something seriously. And he was serious about that paperwork, not even looking up to speak. “They get bored of me, and travel.”

“They’re spies, aren’t they?”

He lifted his brush from a page with a flourish, and pinned it off to the side under a weight to dry, immediately moving onto the next one. “Are you saying I’m not irritating enough to make people need a break? I must have an ulterior motive? I’ll have to try harder.”

“Oh, you’re very irritating. They’re just extremely loyal.”

“After the Sunshot campaign and the losses we had during Dage’s decline, both to desertion and other causes. And then the prospect of me. Well, anyone who’s left is basically family.”

He gestured at Nie Xiaodan, at that moment crossing the bridge towards the pavilion.

Nie Xiaodan patted him on the head as she passed by. “Don’t forget to order lunch, Zongzhu.” She said, and returned to discussing a night hunt with her companion. It seemed she had come for that reminder only.

Nie Huaisang beamed.

“Fine, I’ll pretend to be your disciple.” Wei Wuxian wanted to pretend he’d been given a choice.

“Excellent! We can get you a saber easily enough.”

Uh. He had told him what Wen Qing said about his core, right? Wei Wuxian was often terrible at remembering tasks, but he distinctly recalled completing that one. “I’m banned from resentful energy, doctor’s orders.”

“Our smiths can make sabers without binding an animal spirit, you know. They do make other things.”

Wei Wuxian was summarily introduced to the blacksmiths, a married couple who looked him up and down intently and promptly got into an argument over the saber’s design. When he looked around for Nie Huaisang, the sneaky little spymaster was missing, because of course he was.

Attempts at interrupting failed to distract the couple from their debate over the pattern to be inscribed on the hilt, so Wei Wuxian settled against the wall to wait, and inadvertently took a nap.

He was prodded awake with the end of a (thankfully) unheated poker. “Infuse this with your energy,” The smith holding the poker growled, pointing towards a red-hot block of iron. Wei Wuxian did as requested, feeling only a slight protest from Xue Yang’s — his core.

Then, all he had to do was wait.

During the week it took for his new saber to be prepared, Wei Wuxian was not idle.

If he was going to imitate Xue Yang with no demonic cultivation and an extremely temperamental sword, Wei Wuxian needed tricks. Wen Qing had told him to invent something. But, Wei Wuxian thought, how better to create the illusion of evil tricks than to use something that actually existed.

He had drawn one idea from the stage. Why not the methods for a few more?

Within a day of verbalizing his plan, Wei Wuxian drowned under a sea of texts pulled from the shelves of the Nie library and from the private records of Qinghe’s theater and dance troops. Thanks to Nie Huaisang’s generous patronage, Wei Wuxian had been able to request manuals on the techniques in common between troops, rather than their family secrets. The tricks to raising and lowering a curtain on an improvised stage and to building a smoke bomb in a desired hue for a start.

The combination of practical optical illusions and talismans seemed particularly promising.

The smoke bombs were the easiest, simply a matter of mixing powders together in a casing and setting them on fire. Fun for him, but since he managed to irritate someone no matter where he set them off, Wei Wuxian moved on.

Combining his binding talisman and a sticking talisman, he stuck a disciple to the roof of the library.

(A volunteer, since it wasn’t as though Jiang Cheng was there. Or speaking to him.)

The force holding him in place was a standard talisman, nothing Wei Wuxian had invented, but the disciple struggled against it like he’d never learned how to counter it. Which he probably hadn’t, given how little thought most cultivators gave them beyond wards and the ubiquitous ones for keeping tea warm or sending brief messages.

Which was precisely why Wei Wuxian might just pull this off.

He thought about pulleys and spirit nets, and the next day, he inscribed the talismans within a pressure-triggered array, and sent himself flying upwards. Followed by a plethora of curious volunteers.

What had he expected, though? The Nie were a sect full of adrenaline junkies. Even the first disciple came around for a turn. After that, Wei Wuxian found himself with company and conversation at every meal.

Even so, he never forgot he was wearing a mask. Every night after a long day of study, the mask weighed heavy on his face, leaving him with a headache. He found it easier to ward his door, than keep it on while he slept. Then, and only then, was it safe to be himself.

Many of the most useful tricks required more practice, such as projecting sounds so they seemed to come from a different source. Wei Wuxian practiced each, over and over again, until he felt he had it. And then put on a demonstration.

When he could pull off a trick successfully in front of the little Nie Disciples, he knew he had managed it. If he still couldn’t fool Nie Huaisang, well, Huaisang was Huaisang.

He couldn’t be held to mortal standards.

That left one more problem, perhaps the most challenging.

Along with the skin mask, Xue Yang’s bag had contained: two changes of clothes, a small pouch of silver, a large coil of rope, and several heavy bags full of corpse powder.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian wasn’t actually going to use corpse powder on anyone. That could get messy fast, if anyone else was around, with no guarantee he’d be able to serve the antidote in time. Yet it seemed like corpse powder was a common part of Xue Yang’s modus operandi.

If he didn’t use it, would Jin Guangyao suspect something was off? There was no way of telling.

The problem niggled at the back of his mind all week long, whether he was becoming one with the library or getting caught in his own rope trap. But he got no closer to finding a solution.

Until finally, during breakfast on the day Wei Wuxian was to receive his saber, he sat staring into his congee, stirring it absently.

And had a brilliant idea.

Somehow, having a potential solution took the edge off his nerves, and he was able to hold Yuanzheng for the first time while only making a bit of a fool of himself. To his relief, it didn’t feel like Suibian, though the long, thin saber was also designed for agility rather than power.

Yuanzheng

did feel like a weapon he could use, not the dead, draining weight Suibian had become or the repulsion of Jiangzai. Like it might become an extension of his arm in time, with Suibian and Chenqing out of reach. Wei Wuxian teared up a little, as he went through a series of exercises for the first time in years, and did not pass out.

For the first time, his resurrection really felt like a second chance. The beginning of the long journey he’d named his saber for, with a slim chance that light in the distance was the end of the tunnel. With family and zhiji waiting on the other end.

He had better make it count.

From the privacy of his own room that night, he pulled out his Distance Speaking Stone, and called up Wen Qing. “Hey, disorienting powder can be cleared from the system with congee like corpse powder, right?”

With construction on watchtowers set to begin in several sects, there was little for Jiang Yanli to do on the project but wait. Yet she couldn’t remain idle with only her sect responsibilities and A-Ling to occupy her time. Not if she intended to make herself — or rather, Qin Su — a credible power in her own right, someone who had a chance of being believed when it came time to reveal Jin Guangyao’s crimes.

She needed a new project. Something Jin Guangyao had yet to present a plan for, something Qin Su would get all the credit for.

Word arrived that a Jin disciple had been murdered by Xue Yang, the juniors he had been escorting barely escaping with their lives. The pair of Jin cousins with the rare tea feud (under a temporary ceasefire in favor of vengeance against the Chief Cultivator for the allowance cut, so far consisting of attempts to convince the servants to put laxatives in his tea, which the servants would not do, out of a desire to remain among the living) fainted dead away at the news.

Jiang Yanli, already aware of this through her brother, attempted to look appropriately horrified.

Jin Guangyao paled, and for a moment, lost his composure. Ice in his eyes and steel in the set of his jaw, there and gone again in a blink. Mask back into place but still off balance, he cut off the junior disciples’ explanation of their rescue from corpse powder mid sentence. He immediately sent off three teams of disciples to track down Xue Yang and bring back his body.

“I thought Xiandu always heard all explanations to the end.” A messenger from Fengyang Hua whispered to a group consisting of the wards from Lieshan Du, Zhai Xia, and Mo Xuanyu’s ever-present suitors.

Not always, rumor would now say. Even Xiandu is afraid of something.

Even with fear in the air over the return of Xue Yang — for everyone had a horror story to tell of his time in Koi Tower, mostly to do with dismembered animals in places that were decidedly not the kitchen — Jiang Yanli found she had finally settled into her role.

One day, the paperwork ran out, and Jiang Yanli found herself with an afternoon free. A novel experience, since her return. It was a perfect opportunity to brainstorm her next step.

If only she could dredge up the barest hint of an idea. But her mind felt like a dried-up creek in a drought.

“I was thinking of going to the tailor in the city, Xiao-Heng is growing like a demon and needs more new clothes. Would you like to come with me?”

I bet we’re not thinking of anything because we’re trying too hard. Qin Su said.

As much as Jiang Yanli hated to admit it, she had a point. A-Xian always said that he had his best ideas the moment he stopped trying to force a solution. The difficulty lay in not thinking about it.

I have a solution for that. My beloved nephew is quite the attention hog.

“A-Ling’s robes have been looking rather short.” She said aloud.

Qi Juan beamed, and began tucking her son in his sling. He was soon to outgrow it, and had just reached the troublesome learning to crawl stage.

Kidnapping her son from his lessons was a thrill, though it was the work of a moment. The sour-faced calligraphy instructor dismissed A-Ling with visible relief, and the reminder that A-Ling was still expected to produce ten copies of poems at the next class. Without blotches of ink covering half the page, or brush strokes of uneven width.

A-Ling stuck out his tongue behind the instructor’s back, and ran to grab her hand, already chattering about how he wanted to bring back sticks of tanghulu for the entire class.

“My sweet, grumpy boy,” She ruffled his hair, and he scowled, attempting to push it back into place, but only displacing his top knot further. Just like his jiujiu.

The main streets of Lanling were cleaner than she remembered from six years ago. The shops lining the main street had all recently been given a fresh coat of paint, proprietors and customers alike looking healthier and more prosperous. Jin Guangyao had reformed the city’s taxes, on the basis that letting the common people keep more of their earnings now would bring the sect more profit in the long term. More than one person recognized her as Madam Jin, and called out a respectful greeting with a smile. At least on a surface level, his plan had begun to work.

There were fewer brothels now as well, reduced by half. The madams who had refused to start allowing their workers to pay off their contracts had been driven out of business or died in mysterious fires. (In some cases, but not all, the workers mysteriously escaped unscathed.) As A-Ling towed her along to a hawker with a tower of tanghulu, she passed an empty lot with the blackened foundations still visible. The buildings next to it were under repair, one of which seemed to have sustained considerable damage to the living quarters on the second floor.

As she looked around more closely, she saw an emaciated old man begging from the entrance of an alley, a woman in what had once been a set of fine performance robes soliciting passerby, and scruffy children lurking in dark corners.

Despite Jin Guangyao’s claims of working towards progress, there were still street children in Lanling.

Making a home for the orphans of Lanling had been a project dear to A-Xuan’s heart, in the last months of his life. Impending fatherhood had made him more perceptive in many ways, more so even than the changes he underwent during the Sunshot campaign. But when she was preganant, her husband had taken her by the arms and informed her with great distress that there are children in the streets, Yanli! Children!

Jiang Yanli had thought better late than never and helped him come up with a plan. She had her own reasons to take an interest in the care of orphans and poor children, after all.

Jin Guangshan had probably signed the funding out of the budget on an advisor’s word, not having been informed how his son and daughter-in-law were spending the clan’s funds in the first place.

Jin Guangyao would not have gotten rid of such a program, she thought, as she fished a coin so her son could get as sticky with sugar as his little heart desired.

Qin Su did not quite agree. No, he would have replaced it with something similar, that he could claim the credit for.

True. But he hadn’t — which meant there was room for Jiang Yanli to fill the gap.

After a moment of thought, she purchased a second stick, and handed it to Qi Juan.

“You looked like you could use it.” She told her.

Qi Juan bit down delicately on the candy-coated hawthorn, but couldn’t avoid the satisfying crunch. And laughed, as parts of the coating cracked, and fell from her lips. “All right. I haven’t had something like this since… before the Sunshot Campaign, probably. Certainly not since my family came up in the world and married me off. You look like you could use one too.”

“Do I?” Jiang Yanli had often thought that helping others feel better was its own reward.

It would make me feel better to taste something sweet. Qin Su said in a blatant attempt to get Jiang Yanli to treat herself. Sweet-sweet though, not hawthorn berries.

I think that stall might be selling lotus mooncakes.” Though the mid-autumn festival had already past, there was never a wrong time for a mooncake.

It was a mistake to mention heaven’s favorite root in front of Jin Ling. “Lotus!” He shouted. “Pleasepleaseplease mooncake mooncake!” And would not let up until she bought him one, in addition to three for herself.

“That’s more than enough sugar for one day, young man.” She informed him as she took a bite of her own mooncake, wrapping the others in a cloth for later.

A-Ling grinned toothily up at her, mooncake leaking lotus paste in one hand, half eaten tanghulu in the other, and the glint of sugar all over his cheeks.

Perhaps she should have insisted he wait until after their errand for his treats, but Jiang Yanli did not possess the earned resistance to his adorable whims of a mother who had gotten to see her child grow. Who could blame her, if she spoiled him a little? “Do you think the tailor will still let us in the shop?”

“It’s not so bad,” Qi Juan said, just as A-Ling smushed the rest of the mooncake in his hand, and shoved it in his face. She grimaced. “I’m certain Tailor Ke has seen worse.”

Indeed, Tailor Ke, a woman who knew her way around hanfu, if the way the one she was wearing flattered her extensive curves meant anything, did not blink an eye. “If you could wipe off the young master’s hands, please, Jin-furen?”

Jiang Yanli took the offered wet handkerchief, and wiped the stickiness off of a protesting A-Ling. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to damage any of your lovely merchandise.”

Sadly, the more vibrant fabrics could not be chosen for A-Ling, who would be consigned to golden peacocks and peonies on off-white for as long as he lived. As a married-in spouse, however, Jiang Yanli had more leeway with under robes. The pale pink of Laoling Qin tempered the gold, making it almost palatable.

Qi Juan freely admired a swatch of vivid green fabric, in precisely the right shade for her natal sect. A daring choice, if it was for her son. Perhaps a sign that Qi Juan would be receptive to opposing her husband.

Tailor Ke bustled around, assembling the appropriate silks in Jin colors for Jiang Yanli’s inspection herself.

“Have you been short handed lately?” She asked as ideas for how, exactly, she would go about outdoing Jin Guangyao in reform measures began to coalesce in her mind.

“Have I ever! There’s all this new demand for clothing and not enough suitable apprentices to go around! Everyone’s looking, not just me.” She dropped a stack of fabrics on the table with a grunt. “Jin-gongzi’s order will take priority, of course.”

She shook her head. Naturally an order from the sect leader’s wife would be prioritized, but there was no need. “Please put Bei-gongzi’s order ahead of mine. A-Ling can get a bit more use out of his robes, but Bei-gongzi won’t fit into his if he grows anymore. And only the peony for embroidery. If it’s any more elaborate, A-Ling will inevitably ruin the robes the first time he wears them.”

“Yes, Jin-furen.” Tailor Ke agreed. “It won’t take more than a week, all told. Kid’s clothes work up fast.”

“And wear out faster.” She sighed as A-Ling chose that moment to snag his sleeve on a nail. “What are you looking for, in an apprentice?”

Many craftspeople would have been hesitant to answer, but Tailor Ke was happy to babble on as she began to drape fabrics over A-Ling’s shoulders, critiquing and sorting them to find the least aesthetically terrible combinations. “Oh, someone who’s quick with their hands, with some basic sewing and embroidery skills. I don’t have time to teach basics, but the rest can come along in time. Someone to do the books for me would also be a dream. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, though fortunately I can still stitch a straight seam without looking.”

That seemed like simple enough requirements, easily fulfilled with a little education. Though orphans were pulled of the street from time to time, it was usually for menial positions they would lose the moment something went wrong. Or if they were very lucky, to take care of an old, childless widow. Re-instituting A-Xuan’s program and improving upon it — that could be a very real way to distinguish Qin Su in the eyes of not only the Jin Sect, but the cultivation world.

The children could not only learn skills to help find employment, but be tested for cultivation potential.

The sects were always complaining about how difficult it was to recruit new talent. Executed properly, Jiang Yanli could make Qin Su look not only kind-hearted, but clever, reputable, and forward thinking, with the best interests of the sect she had married into at heart.

Even if the actual Qin Su fantasized about burning down Koi Tower on a regular basis.

Hey.

What? It was true.

Qin Su huffed. A semi-regular basis, maybe. And I would never actually. I wouldn’t actually ruin the whole of Lanling’s economy or put the servants and juniors out of house and home.

My apologies then. She suppressed a laugh.

Would there really be enough apprenticeships to go around, though? Qin Su sent numbers bouncing around her mind as she attempted the mental math, but got lost without paper.

Perhaps not. But larger farms could use workers, manors could use servants, and affordable bookkeepers were always in short supply. It could, at least, give them a better start.

“Shenshen look! I’m all twirly!” A-Ling giggled as he spun, the silk draped over him spinning out and threatening to knock over the tailor’s basket of supplies. Jiang Yanli tried not to smile, knowing she would need to scold him later, and prepared to pay for the entire bolt.

“We should discuss the problem with your sword.” Wen Qing said one night through the softly glowing Distance Speaking Stone. A-Xian had popped in earlier, briefly, but he was busy following the second of the Jin disciples on Xue Yang’s list, learning the habits of the group they were part of before he could lead them into a trap.

Jiang Yanli stared into her evening tea. “Must we?”

“Wei Wuxian isn’t having trouble with his new saber. The problem must be that Chunsheng doesn’t fully recognize you as Qin Su.”

“I can’t just get rid of her sword.” That wasn’t done.

<We are not getting rid of Chunsheng.> Qin Su said from inside her paperman. She’d been bent over a copy of some of A-Xian’s notes, researching something she had yet to explain.

“You’re basically unprotected. What if something —” Wen Qing cut herself off, surprisingly panicked.

Replacing a sword would garner more attention than A-Xian had in refusing to carry Suibian around. Whether they would somehow determine the truth or spread rumors about a disastrous fallout with the Qin clan, everyone would know something was off.

Still, it was sweet of her to worry. “Any sword is more protection than I had in my last life, Wen Qing.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” She sounded so forlorn that Jiang Yanli ached with the desire to fall into her arms and rub circles into her back until she slept, and even after. “But I worry.”

So did she, far too often. There was no end to worrying, it seemed. Not even after death. “Does A-Xian have any ideas about the talisman keeping you trapped?”

Wen Qing hesitated. “I haven’t let him look at it yet.”

“A-Qing!” A slip of the tongue, in her shock.

Wen Qing’s breath caught. “I’m not letting him put my life before his again. When we’re closer —”

“Last time you put his life before yours, he died anyways.” Jiang Yanli snapped. And sighed. “I’m sorry, that was unfair. It’s just — if you’re allowed to worry for me, I get to worry for you.”

“A little longer. Then I’ll speak to him.”

She could tell that was the best she was going to get. “If you don’t, I’ll tell him myself.”

Jiang Yanli was tired of watching the people she cared about tear themselves apart. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Wen Qing let out a shaky, hiccupping laugh. “That seems fair.”

#the untamed #cq #wangxian #yanqing #qin su #the sacrifice summon! JYL fic #where the summoner (qin su) sticks around #this time featuring wwx traumatizing some teenagers #being subject to the whims of nhs #and jyl spending an afternoon with jin ling

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ruewrites · 3 years

Text

We’re Blooming Together Chapter 4: Sweet

AO3

Ships: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 3693

Warnings: None

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6-Chapter 7-Chapter 8-Chapter 9-Chapter 10-Chapter 11-Chapter 12

Asmo pulled the covers over his head. His weekend beauty alarm hadn’t gone off yet, why was he awake? He’d just been having another wonderful dream too. It took a while for it to register, but then he heard the rustling . Asmo peeled open one of his eyes. Then he blinked once. Twice. No. He wouldn’t dare .

Mammon was crouched next to his dresser, going through Asmo’s things.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Asmo growled, tossing the blankets back. Mammon jumped and turned towards his younger brother. He painted a smile across his face and started to pat Asmo’s head.

“I just wanted to wake up my little brother, is that so bad?” he asked. Asmo swatted his hand away and glared at him. Never mind that Asmo’s hair was still messy, he didn’t need Mammon messing it up more. Plus he was already angry. He’d caught Mammon going through his things! What a great way to start his morning. Then he saw what Mammon had in his hands.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Oh? This?” Mammon held up the letter. Asmo’s letter. “You don’t see fancy little things like this around. ‘Specially when it ain’t even ‘ya birthday. And now you’re gettin all defensive-”

“Because I woke up to you going through my stuff dipshit. ”

Mammon smirked and looked closer at the letter, “So you don’t care if I read it?”

“Put it down!” Asmo screeched, lunging from the mattress to his older brother. Mammon cackled and held the letter above his head, while pushing Asmo back with his other arm. He let out a whistle, eyes quickly scanning over the page.

“ Woooow . You gotta lil’ Romeo on your hands right here!” Mammon mused. Asmo could feel his face start to heat up, especially when Mammon started to clear his throat, “Your eyes sparkle and outshine all of the stars in the sky, your lips curl up in the most perfect of arcs-”

“Quit it Mammon! Give it back!” Asmo felt like he was in middle school again. Why couldn’t Mammon just grow up? Seriously! Asmo wasn’t sure whether he was going to die of embarrassment or spend the rest of his life in jail for reenacting the story of Cain and Abel.

Mammon lowered the letter just a bit, “This fella really likes you a lot, big brother Mammon might just have to get the bat out.”

Asmo growled and lunged towards the letter, scratching Mammon in the process.

“Ow! Hey! Keep those claws away from me!”

“Give me my letter back and I won’t tear your eyes out!” He was holding back only slightly. The last thing he wanted to do was tear one of his precious letters. Each one was special, he could let harm come to a single one of them.

Asmo followed Mammon’s gaze as he looked over to the corner of the room. Asmo didn’t realize he could have become even more livid. His things were upturned, all of his letters and little gifts sprawled out on the floor. “They the person that gave you all of those as well? What? Can’t you bring ‘em home to meet your family? Or are they talkin you outta lettin us meet ‘em?”

Oh now Mammon wanted to play the part of protective big brother. First, he came in and started rooting through his room. Second, he rudely woke Asmo up. Thirdly, he started reading Asmo’s private letters. And now he wants to integrate him? No. Absolutely not. No way.

“For your information, I don’t know who they are, hence them signing off the letters with Secret ,” Asmo huffed, snatching his letter back, trying to crinkle it as little as possible. “And if you even think about telling anyone, especially if you let it slip to our dearest older brother, I swear Mammon-”

“Okay. Okay! Cool it, why would I ever tell anyone?”

Asmo narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, I wouldn’t tell anyone on purpose .”

That was reassuring. Asmo smoothed out the letter and carefully inspected it for any tears or serious crinkles before going to reorganize his gifts. Small candies, a small bunny keychain, cute things that Asmo would enjoy. Mammon watched him for a moment, shifting from side to side. Asmo was happy he didn’t try to take a step closer. He wanted a little bit of space.

“Hey,” Mammon finally said as Asmo went to rehide his things in a drawer close to his bed, “I’m sorry alright? I just want to know what’s goin on with you guys. You aren’t always open with things ya know.”

“Neither are you.”

“Touche.”

Mammon ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, “Ya don’t have to worry about me goin and telling Lucifer a’ight? Promise.”

Asmo raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “And going through my room?”

“Can’t promise you that I won’t do that.”

Asmo sighed. Well, at least he knew he wouldn’t go telling Lucifer… Not that he would in the first place. But if he did, he could always use Mammon going through their rooms as a deflection. Although he wasn’t sure how well that would hold up, or how long it would hold Lucifer’s focus (if it even did in the first place).

“I only do it ‘cus, I wanna know what’s going on in your life.” Mammon mumbled, “And if this asshole hurts ya, I wanna know! ‘Cus no one hurts any of the Great Mammon’s little brothers!”

Asmo sighed, “Well there are better ways to figure out what I’m up to. Like asking me.” Although, the second half did earn a little snort out of him. Even if Mammon could be a complete asshole sometimes, he did still look out for them. Just like how he’d confront bullies for them as kids.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t scare them off before I get to know them.”

Honestly. Lucifer’s energy had been enough to make most of his past lovers almost behave (at least when he was around). He’d always sat them down, made sure they understood how his little brothers should be treated even if it made Asmo want to die of embarrassment. If Mammon had been in the same position, all of those partners would have left. Whether it would have been out of fear or from no longer wanting any part in Asmo’s family he would never know nor did he wish to find out.

Asmo made his way over to his dresser and plopped down. Well, he was awake now. No point in trying to go back to bed, so he might as well get ready. “If you don’t mind brother dearest, I think I’m going to get ready.”

“You goin somewhere?”

“Studying with Solomon if you must know.”

“Ahhh. Studying gotchu.”

“Solomon’s not that type of guy, now shut up and get out.”

“Love you too my dear little brother.”

Maybe he shouldn’t let Mammon go with his secret. It really did seem like a bad idea, his brother walking around with his secret. Sure he had trusted Satan with his secret, but Mammon? Well Mammon had found out on his own, unfortunately. Even if it left a bad taste in his mouth, he had other things to worry about now. He had places to be.

*******

Solomon’s apartment was nice, and he didn’t have to worry about his brothers interfering or being distracting. Not to mention, the living room was also filled with natural light, which not only made it bright but warm as well.

If any situation outside of parties showed how much Asmo struggled with the concept of personal space, it was having his work sessions with Solomon. He never had a problem when it was an assignment that had to do with his designs, but whenever it was something that strayed from his beloved focus his head was on Solomon’s shoulder and he was whining.

“Solomon,” he huffed, putting his laptop down and slumping against him, “This assignment doesn’t even make sense. How am I supposed to write a new groundbreaking paper when everything that could of been said has already been said? Solomon this class doesn’t make any sense.”

He could feel Solomon’s chuckle rumble through his chest. It was a really was a nice sound, like distant thunder. “You didn’t have to take this class with me you know. It’s part of my degree, it’s just credits for you,” he said, placing his things to the side and placing Asmo’s laptop on his lap..

“Demonology sounded really interesting, and you made it sound fun,” he pouted, “Besides, the class is interesting enough. I just hate these stupid papers.”

“I’ll read over it for you, don’t worry.” He always did.

Asmo watched over his shoulder as he made little notes in the margin. He was comfortable next to Solomon. Honestly he hoped that Secret would be okay with him doing things like this. Or that he could do things like this with Secret…. Or that Solomon was Secret.

No.

Nope.

He shouldn’t go there. Solomon was his best friend. He wasn’t going to think of him like that, even if he was cute, and smart, and funny, and attractive…

Even if the best relationships sprouted between the closest of friends….

He really needed to change the subject.

“Is it too late to drop out? I could become a stripper.”

Solomon turned to look at him, eyebrow quirked. He let out a soft hum, letting his eyes look over Asmo for just a second. Then he nodded, “You’d make a cute stripper.”

Asmo’s face turned red, “No! You’re not supposed to say that! You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to either talk about how I should stay in school or that you’d drop out too and join me!” Not compliment how cute he was . While Asmo enjoyed it, it wasn’t what Solomon was supposed to say. Maybe he was joking, but Asmo would think of it as a genuine compliment. “I already know I’d make a cute stripper,” he mumbled.

Like Solomon thought of his body like that. Even if it was true.

“Ah. You’re right. I’m sorry. You’d make a horrible stripper. Stay in school. Don’t drink. Don’t do drugs. More words of wisdom and whatnot.”

“ Solomon .”

Of course he could have pulled his face away. He could move to the opposite side of their workspace and stay there. But he didn’t. Asmo stayed curled up where he was,face partially buried in the fabric of Solomon’s shirt, his cologne flooding his senses. Solomon’s smug smirk was still plastered to his face, but his eyes were trained on Asmo’s paper. He had no right to be so smug, especially when Asmo’s entire body was heating up and he was starting to pout.

Sometimes Solomon could drive him more crazy than his brothers could ever dream of doing. But it was a different type of crazy. A type of crazy that made him want to tackle Solomon to the couch and-

“Pardon me.”

Asmo lifted his head slightly, to turn and look at Simeon. He was holding a tray of cupcakes in his hands. They were pretty. Icing swirled to near perfection in different pastels and covered in shiny white chocolate pearls. Simeon didn’t often intrude on their study sessions. Sometimes he would join for a bit, but he didn’t want to be a distraction. Well, that and he had to look after Luke.

Speaking of Luke, the kid was not too far behind Simeon, looking anywhere but at Asmo and Solomon.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting, but Luke thought you both might like a cupcake. He made them himself.”

“I had some extra,” Luke clarified, “They have a lemon cream filling.”

Simeon set the tray on the table and Solomon nodded, “Thank you Luke, I’m sure that they’ll be wonderful.” Asmo nodded in agreement. That was another perk of working at Solomon’s. There was always some sort of wonderful treat waiting. The kitchen always smelled like a bakery.

He watched as Solomon reached over him and towards the tray for one of the treats, quickly followed by Asmo’s own hand. They lightly brushed together for just a moment, but Asmo was quick to take one of the cupcakes and yank his hand back.

Simeon’s eyes were fixed to them the entire time.

“Solomon.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to take Luke to the library. We may be out for a while. Remember to lock the door if you go out?” His eyes flickered between the two of them for a moment. Before settling on Solomon. The look he gave Solomon was unreadable to Asmo.

“Alright, have fun,” Solomon smiled, turning back to Asmo’s paper.

Simeon smiled and nodded, “We will, it was good seeing you Asmo." With that, Simeon turned, graceful as ever, and left with Luke.

Asmo’s nose crinkled, “What was that about?”

“Luke made cupcakes.”

“No no. That look Simeon gave you.”

Solomon leaned back and licked a bit of the icing from the cupcake, “Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I forgot to lock the door last time.” He wasn’t looking at Asmodeus, gaze transfixed on the wall. Weird. “Anyways, I think your paper looks fine. There’s just a few things I’d change, but I think it hit everything it needed to.”

Asmo smiled, a little more relaxed now about the assignment. He trusted Solomon’s judgement. Finally Asmo took a bit of his own cupcake. The cake was soft and moist, and Luke’s homemade icing and filling were both so fluffy and light. He couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. It was just too good. On more than one occasion he considered asking if he could move in, just so he could get little treats like this on a daily basis.

The sound of Solomon clearing his throat snapped Asmo out of his sweet-induced trance and over to his friend. Solomon had moved on and was now staring intently down at one of his textbooks. However, he didn’t miss the slight coloration in Solomon’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… Something in the book.”

“Ooh can I see?” Asmo scooted closer and tried to peak over into the pages below. However, Solomon quickly snapped the book shut and held it out of Asmodeus’ grasp.

“Nope. It’s gone now.”

“Aw come on, please Solomon? If it made you all blushy it must be good!” Asmo asked. He wasn’t about to let himself be left out from whatever spicy romance lied within the book Solomon was trying to keep from him. Solomon stood little chance against his friend, who was practically- no, not practically - who was climbing on top of him.

“Asmodeus!” Solomon’s voice cracked as he fell over, still trying to hold the book over his head as Asmodeus fell on top of him laughing. One arm wrapped around Asmo’s waist in an attempt to keep him away from the book.

“Come on Solomon!” he giggled, reaching for the book, only for it to be flung to the other side of the room and hitting the wall with a soft thud. Asmo huffed and went to stand to scurry after the book, only to be stopped by Solomon sitting up, both arms around him. “Oh you are such a child.”

“I’m the child?” Solomon snorted, “You’re the one who can’t let it go.”

“I call it persistence and knowing what I want. Now let me see!”

Asmo felt himself try to wiggle out of Solomon’s arms, only to be met with more resistance from him. “Well I don’t even remember what page it was on so you’re just gonna have to forget about it,” he huffed, throwing his body weight against Asmo and sending him to the floor and making him yelp ever so slightly.

“Owwwww, Solomon! That hurt.”

“Ah, sorry.” Solomon sat up but only slightly, he looked worried, hand moving to the side of Asmodeus’ head. “Are you okay?”

Asmo’s breath caught in his throat. The sun from the window outlined him in such a heavenly way. Each shadow on his face traced his strong jaw and cheekbones.He felt his hand stroke through his hair, feeling along his skull.

Asmo never let anyone touch his hair after he styled it.

“Any pain? Are you dizzy?”

“Ah… No…”

Well, not dizzy in the way Solomon was thinking. What could he say? What could he do? Well he could tell Solomon to get off, if he ever found his voice….

Then Solomon’s thumb swiped across his lips, and brought it up to his own mouth.

Icing.

“You could have just told me,” Asmo huffed, propping himself up on his elbows

Solomon was back on his haunches now, wrapped up in the icing, “What? Luke makes good icing.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes and shoved at Solomon’s chest.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Not insufferable enough for you to stop spending time with me,” Solomon chuckled. He got off of Asmodeus and helped him sit up, hands lingering just a little longer than necessary. Then the silence took over again.

It wasn’t the same silence as before though. This time it was a bit more awkward, filled with shifting bodies and uncertainty over what to say next. Asmo’s attention went to his phone. After all, social media made for a wonderful distraction. Flipping to the camera, Asmo decided to look over his appearance. He definitely needed to fix his hair. The lighting was amazing here.

“Wanna take a picture?”

Solomon perked up at the sudden break in the silence and looked at the two of them in the camera. “Do you wanna take a picture?” he asked, chest nudging against Asmo’s back. Asmo ignored the fluttering occurring deep within him, even if it was a nice feeling. He would be a liar if he said he didn’t lean back into his touch.

“Just pick up one of the cupcakes and hold it up,” Asmo instructed, “It’ll be cute, trust me. Plus showing off my future number one model could be a good marketing strategy.”

Asmo felt Solomon’s chin rest on his shoulder as he tried to find the right angle to take the photo at. “You know, you keep posting pictures like this and people might start thinking I’m a little more than a ‘best friend’ or ‘model’,” he said, resisting the temptation to start digging into the second cupcake.

“And who cares what they think?”

Even as Asmo said it, his stomach sunk a little. Well, maybe Solomon cared if people thought they were together. They were just friends. That was it. Maybe there was someone Solomon liked, someone he wanted to impress, and Asmo was ruining his chances by taking photos like these. Solomon had gone along with (most of) his ideas for most of the time they’d been together. Maybe he was just too nice to say no to Asmo’s little ideas. Maybe-

“Hey.” Solomon was looking at him, “Are you going to take it?” His face was a lot closer than Asmo realized.

“Oh! Yeah, yes, sorry. Just trying to find the right angle… There!”

Click.

They both stared at the photo for a moment, Asmo more than aware of how Solomon hadn’t left his position. “I like it. You were right. It’s nice.”

Solomon had the nicest, sweetest smile he’d ever seen on another person.

“Are you going to post it?”

How did he always look so relaxed ?

But before Asmo could reply, a notification popped up on his phone. Then another and another and another and-

He was used to his phone blowing up, but he hadn’t even posted the picture yet. Looking deeper into the source, he found that they were all from his brothers, mainly Mammon and Levi. Slowly Asmo clicked on the notification.

L3vi : You have a girlfriend?

Mammoney : Asmo I’m sorry

L3vi : Or boyfriend?

Mammoney : Please don’t kill me

L3vi : Why did you tell Mammon and not me? That’s not fair!

Mammoney : I didn’t mean to-

L3vi : I read a manga with a plot like this once-

Mammoney : It just kinda came out

L3vi : I know the perfect way to figure out who this is!

Mammoney : Asmo?

He wanted to scream. He put his phone down, ignoring the rest of the notifications. Yeah. He should have killed Mammon earlier. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours. The only thing he could be thankful for was that he didn’t tell Lucifer… As far as he knew.

Asmo was going to kill him.

“I thought your brothers didn’t know.”

Solomon’s voice brought Asmodeus back to reality, it didn’t stop his fuming, but it did bring him back to where he was. “They didn’t,” he hissed, “Well, I mean I told Satan, but he was going to be the only one to know. Mammon certainly wasn’t supposed to know and-” Asmo’s words dissolved into a groan. His study session with Solomon had been going so well too. They’d been productive... for the most part.

He flopped onto Solomon’s shoulder and let out a whine. “Just let me move in with you please!” he whimpered, “I promise I won’t bother Simeon and Luke too much and you know I’m neat and clean. My brothers are going to drive me to an early grave, or worse, give me wrinkles .”

Solomon snorted which only made Asmodeus’ pout deepen. “Rude. This is a very serious matter.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a tad overdramatic?”

All Asmo did was cross his arms in response. Solomon sighed and looked down at Asmodeus. “Well… I can’t say that there’s space for you to move in-”

“Not even the couch? Or sharing a bed?”

Solomon held up his finger, “But, I can walk you home. If you’d like. I can be your human shield and protect you from your brothers.”

Asmo thought for a moment, arms uncrossing and fingers playing with the hem of Solomon’s sleeve. Having Solomon walk him home could be the next best thing (aside from just spending the night), and he would be able to distract himself from the dread and embarrassment that awaited him back home. Walking back home with Solomon was always nice regardless. Who didn’t like to spend more time with their best friend?

#WBT #solodeus #soloasmo #asmosolo #asmodeus x solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me solomon #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me #fluff #love letters #human!au #friends to lovers #slow burn

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