Youāre ESPER Keigoās designated Guide. How you landed that role is beyond you, given that youāre a B-class to his S-class. But things work out fine, despite the discrepancy in your abilities. He hangs out in your office a lot more than you think his supervisors appreciate, but itās not like you have any other business to take care of. All you have to do is be available to service your ESPER whenever he wants, otherwise youāre free to screw around to your hearts content.
You do feel a little bad for the other Guides who still have 10-20 clients each, so when you catch a friend from your old department letting an ESPER know she wonāt be able to see him today because her schedules full, you chime in to offer a bit of help.
That is, until Keigo steps between you two, silent, dark (when did he even get here?), grabbing your hand and pulling you into the cover of his wings.
āThatās not a part of the deal,ā he tells you, voice eerily chipper for how tightly heās clinging to you. āOur contract is exclusive, remember?ā
āItās just one guiding, Keigo,ā you return, exhasperated. āItāll take ten minutes, tops.ā
You can tell heās displeased that youāre fighting him on this. He releases you, turning and striding back down the hall. Toward your office.
āDo it if you want me to kill him,ā he calls over his shoulder. āNow cāmon, Iāve been feeling a little sluggish this morning. I think itās time for a session. Alone.ā
haunted by the idea getou and gojo picking you up at a bar. they're clearly good friends, but they don't seem like a coupleāuntil you're in the bedroom. they kiss each other with ease; there's heat to it, a sweet flare of sparks, tinder being struck.
"you're together?" you pant, catching gojo's hand as it delves past the hem of your pants, his long middle finger brushing against the heat between your legs.
it's getou who answers, leaning over the curve of gojo's back to press a biting kiss at the edge of your jaw.
The Gojo and Geto vampire thing you postedā¦ā¦.yesš«Øš«¶š½.
Their eyes are human, yet so much more.
Gojo's are a dazzling blue, so intensely bright that you could swear they're diamond filled, refracting glimmers in all angles. Light finds him, even in the dark. In the pitch of night, you can see the flash of him looking your way, a ghost cutting through the room to haunt you.
When you flip on the light, he flinches comically hard. The man has perched himself on your kitchen island, legs tucked under him with a child, watching the front door with rapt interest
"Ow, geez-" He throws a hand over his eyes in mock pain- on second thought, maybe real. "That's bright."
You drop your bag on the table and shrug off your coat. Gojo's shoes are off of the rack, scattered as if someone tripped over them and kicked them into oblivion. You regret letting him into your house because he treats it as an open invitation. Somehow, through locked doors and barred windows, he's in there, waiting for you.
"It's creepy when you lurk in the dark like that. Turn a lamp on or something."
"I don't need light." He stands with a mischievous smile, far too many teeth showing. In a stride, he's on you, pushing forward with such a speed that you're forced into stepping back against the door. Those bright eyes focus on you completely, but they don't feel like they're boring into you. No, the blue is inviting, pulling you in with a siren's song to lure you into swimming in them. "And maybe I wanted to surprise you."
His skin is chilled. It's uncomfortable when he brushes against your arm, trailing up towards your shoulder. He tips his head with a slow tilt, like an owl eyeing it's prey. The pupils constrict hard, angled, sharp, strange, a shark in the ocean-
"Or-" His tongue flicks over a sharpening molar. "Maybe I wanted to scare you."
A breath is caught in your throat. It's a vampire tactic, an ability they lord over humans without a second thought: the thrall. It tickles the outskirts of your mind, pulling you along.
"Unbotton your top."
And you obey. A puppet string moves your hands, bringing your hands to the buttons and popping them open one by one. Gojo leans back to get a good look, stopping you once your tits are exposed.
"You got a nice vein right here on your boob, under the surface. Could sink my teeth into it and just go to town. Drink until your heart has nothing left to pump," Gojo says, dipping in, icy breath against the crook of your neck as his fingers meander over your collarbone and down your sternum. "Wouldn't it be so embarrassing to die from me sucking your tit?"
Through your bra your skin goes electric with his touch as he glides over you-
and then honks your tit like a play horn.
"Or I could just play with 'em."
The thrall releases and you shove him away with all your strength. He's laughing all the meanwhile, stumbling over his own goddamn shoes like a moron.
"You're such an asshole." Your heartbeat is wild in your chest and you know that he hears it.
"Come on, baby," Gojo croons. "I was just playing-"
He juts out his lower lip in mock sorrow, batting his white eyelashes like he's a Disney princess. With a roll of the eyes, you brush by him and he follows into the kitchen.
"I was waiting for you all in the dark so I could surprise you with a little quickie by the door." He comes back to you and walks his fingers up your arm. "Lights off... Maybe you wouldn't even know it's me-"
"She'd know."
Geto's eyes are black. Impossibly black. They swallow light, engulf it. Everything in the room seems to warp when you stare into them, as if time and space cannot escape their draw.
He leans against the door frame to your room like he belongs there, hair still wet from a shower. Geto has the decency to pay you something for rent and utilities, so you don't really mind him using all of the building's hot water. (You do mind him using your fancy shampoos, but-"
"How would she know?" Gojo presses.
"I don't fuck like a jackhammer."
Gojo and Geto are a joint deal. They aren't Together, but they are always in the other's periphery, circling. Sleeping with both of them wasn't your plan, but they don't seem to mind. It's not a secret; you spend some nights with Gojo in your bed and some nights with Geto. They never share you at the same time, despite your hints that you wouldn't mind.
"Oh, she likes The Hammer." Gojo cups his crotch. Geto rolls his eyes and looks towards you with a knowing smile. Gojo fucks, Geto caresses. He works you slow until you cum and cum and cum, so much so that you're more sore with him than the "jack hammer."
"Are you with in tonight?" Geto asks.
"I was planning on it," you reply.
He paces around tying his hair up with a tie at his own pace. His clothes smell like... something. You can't place it and you wish you could bury your nose in him and breath it in until you knew it by heart. "I'll be out."
"Shame.'
His gaze flickers up and down you and a chill runs down your spine. The buttons of your too are still undone and half of one nipple is out; he clearly enjoys the view. His dark hair slips a bit, running down the back of his neck. He carries an exhaustion, one that sits heavy in his shoulders and dark under his eyes. "It is."
You eye him back. He might be the vampire, but you want your teeth sunk into him, so hard he can never attempt to disappear into the night again. You don't know where either of them go: presumably to feed. A lick of jealousy eats into you whenever you think about him with his mouth on someone else.
"More time for me," Gojo says. The two of them share a look as Geto silently heads towards the door. He slips on his shoes (placed neatly in the rack) and turns to you once more.
"Bye." He makes the word sound intimate.
"Bye," you say back, equally as cool, but with an undercurrent of warmth.
Once the door closes behind him, Gojo whines.
"You like him more than me."
Of course you do. Gojo is all teeth and threats, a turbulent sea that would carry no guilt in drowning you, while Geto is a comforting force, a cave you could lose yourself in forever.
You shrug and walk towards the bathroom.
"I'm not having sex with you after that shit you just pulled." The two of you always have sex when you're alone.
"I could thrall you into it," he calls after you, trailing five steps behind. "Gimme some pussy. Lemme eat it."
There's a tease of compulsion, but nothing real, just a tease to rile you up. Gojo, in all his faults, would never force you into that. He likes an active participant too much for that.
"Oh, it's working," you say sarcastically, even as you begin to shed your shirt. "Oh, I just have to have you."
Gojo laughs.
"Let's see if Suguru left us any hot water," you say. "Bring the hammer."
The sun is about to crest when Geto slips in. You're watching your coffee percolate on the stove, leaned over that damn kitchen island. It's good that Gojo has already settled into sleeping or else he'd be trying to slip into you again.
"You're cutting it close," you say. "Sun's almost up."
Geto's body silently presses up behind you, hands guiding you up into standing. His chest is stiff and unbreathing, but you find comfort in it anyway when you lean against him.
"You shouldn't worry about me," he whispers. "It'll make me feel guilty."
"Mm," you hum, going lax in his hands. "You shouldn't feel guilty. I just missed you."
Geto doesn't respond. You can feel him watching the back of your neck and the top of your head.
"Did you have a nice night?" you whisper.
"No," he says quietly. "Not at all."
You make a sad sound in genuine sympathy and reach up behind you. His face presses into you palm without prompting and you run your fingernails over the rough of cheek. Before you can savor it, he's pulling away.
"Are you jealous that Gojo and I were home, becau-'
Pain blisters across your shoulder. At first you think something from the stove has somehow splashed up and burnt you, so you try to jump back, but your body is locked in place. In fact, you can't even open your mouth to scream. No, your body won't move at all, every joint frozen in place, every muscle rigid and bunched so tight that they already ache. Thinking has become sticky too- it's like every thought is trudging through tar, sinking deeper and deeper until, you fear you may stop thinking all together.
Geto's mouth is on your neck. It took you multiple moments to realize it. His teeth have ripped into your muscle and jerked through skin, pouring blood into his waiting mouth. You want to yell or fight, but you feel him there, blanketing over your consciousness.
He's going to kill you.
Gojo's thrall is frightening in the way he uses it liberally, but it's never crushed you like Geto's does. It's heavy, sinking you down into a dog as dark as his eyes. Your brain loops over the same thought, skipping and hiccuping like a scratched CD.
He's going to kill you.
He's going to kill you.
He's going to kill you.
His jaw unlatches for a moment and you think its over. He grabs the spot he's cut and drags his warm, wet hand across your face, your own blood metallic against your lips.
"You're right," he whispers. "I shouldn't feel guilty."
In the days following Baoshan Sanrenās miracle, Jiang Cheng ponders this new core of his.
(read on AO3)
āāāāāā
Things wereā¦ different.
Not bad, per se, but different.
The new core Baoshan Sanren had placed in his dantian burned hot and bright. A little too hot. A little too bright. It stressed his meridians to the point where they grew sore and painful by the end of the day. To add to that, he was anxious and jittery all the time, as if his skin was crawling with suppressed energy.
His movements felt sharper, quicker, more hasty. It unnerved Jiang Cheng, who was used to trailing behind. His had always been a āslow but steadyā sort of path, struggling to keep up with a grim and dogged determination. But now, potential seemed ready to burst out of him if he didnāt do something with it.
āLuckilyā, the Wen-dogs had massacred only most of his people.
After a week of waiting for Wei Wuxian, he ran into a Jiang disciple in hiding. After that, Jiang Cheng had not so much as stopped to rest. Day and night he scoured the countryside, rescuing who he could and recruiting anyone willing. He trained and taught as they went, desperate to keep anyone within his care from dying.
His new core fueled him to impossible lengthsā¦ then, on the seventh day, dropped him like a stone. Completely spent, Jiang Cheng spent two days asleep, and awoke to a handful of frantic, panicking disciples and a Wen scouting party about to find them. They managed to escapeā barelyā and as they licked their wounds in the first available shelter they could find, Jiang Cheng pondered his new, strange state of affairs.
His behaviorā¦ it had been just like Wei Wuxianās. Pushing himself through the impossible only to utterly collapse at the end of it. Accomplishing miracles, but by recklessly pouring himself out like water.
It made sense, he supposed. After all, Baoshan Sanren had been the teacher of Wei Wuxianās mother. Maybe that was just how she taught her students, and how her students taught in turn. Or maybe it had been a physical trait heād inherited from his mother; the heavens only knew how much Jiang Cheng had inherited from his own. Really, it was fairly logical that the core Baoshan Sanren had gifted him would be like the one Wei Wuxian had developed. Perhaps the Immortal had kept tabs on her discipleās son and had fashioned a new core for him that would match his old one, not knowing that it was really Jiang Cheng who would be the recipient.
His stomach tightened. A new core. A core like Wei Wuxianās. Potential like Wei Wuxianās. What might he do, what impossibilities might he accomplish with an advantage like that?
Itā¦ it almost felt like cheating.
His molars ground together and his eyebrows lowered into a scowl. He was used to working hard for things. Sure, his hard work was rarely acknowledged, and that was infuriating. But the hard work itselfā¦ heād never minded that. In fact, it often lent a sense of satisfaction to his accomplishments, small in comparison though they were. To have been given a new core that would allow him to leap over others just didnāt feel right.
Jiang Chengās gaze traveled over the frazzled and distraught people in his care. He saw their eyes frequently meet his with anxiety, and also saw the obvious worry fading somewhat as they confirmed that he was awake and aware. He noticed the dark circles under their eyes and the shakiness of their limbs.
A poisonous coil of self-castigation wrapped around his insides. How hard had they struggled to keep up with him as heād pushed ahead of them, fueled by this new core of his? Not only thatā heād worried them, passing out like that. Unwilling or not, he had abandoned them as he sunk into that state of unconsciousness. These people were counting on him, depending on him to lead them and to care for them. Theyād lost their homes, their families and loved ones. Their lives had crashed around their ears, and Jiang Cheng had rallied them all together only to leave them directionless and vulnerable as his body recovered.
His jaw clenched.
Never again.
His new core was unruly, uncontrollable, unfetteredā just as Wei Wuxian was. And maybe Wei Wuxian could get away with that, but Jiang Cheng had been raised to be a leader. To take into consideration the needs of those who were his responsibility. He couldnāt afford a core that flashed with unimaginable power then died, like an explosive. He needed a core like a campfire, burning steady and reliable to combat the darkness.
Discipline, he reminded himself sternly. He settled into a light meditative state, careful to remain aware enough to attend to his people. He began to circulate his qi; wrestling it into steadiness, curbing its excesses, forcing it to ration out its power in favor of endurance.
The core fought him a bit, reacting as if these new methods were not only alien but anathema to its habits. But Jiang Cheng was stubbornā more stubborn than anyone alive, Wei Wuxian always teased. He would tame this core, retrain and remold it into what was needed.
Duty. Discipline. Determination. These were the things that Jiang Cheng was known for. These were the things his people needed, not flashy shows or miraculous displays. They were facing a marathon, not a sprint, and Jiang Cheng refused to let anyone else down.
All right, you, he inwardly addressed his unruly core.
So from my understanding all of Lotus Pier was razed to the ground and Jiang Cheng has to rebuild it. But he was all alone. Do think he rebuilt his family rooms? The shared places in the same way?
In terms of the novel, there are only some interesting hints.
Firstly, Wei Wuxian refers to Lotus Pier as "tattered" in Chapter 24:
Although he had always dreamed of returning to Lotus Pier once more, he didnāt want to go back to the tattered one nowadays! (Chapter 24, "Malice," ExR translation)
However, when they actually return to Lotus Pier, it's been extensively rebuilt and doesn't seem tattered at all:
It was perhaps because too many places had been renewed. The training field was two times larger. Each new building seemed to be taller than the previous, adorned with curving roof decor. It seemed grander than before and had more splendor. But, compared to the Lotus Pier of his memories, it had changed too much.
Wei WuXian felt a sense of loss from deep within. He didnāt know whether the old buildings from the past were blocked behind these impressive new buildings or if they were torn down already.
After all, they were indeed too old. (Chapter 85, "Loyalty," ExR translation)
Then, when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are roaming around during the banquet, we get confirmation that Wei Wuxian's room, at least, is gone:
The two returned to the dock and entered the gates of Lotus Pier once again. They walked across the training field. As they passed by an ornate little building, Wei WuXian stopped and took a few more looks. His expression seemed different.
Lan WangJi asked, āWhat is wrong?ā
Wei WuXian shook his head, āNothing. The place I lived in used to be here. Now itās gone. It really was torn down. All of these are new.ā
They passed by the layers of buildings and arrived at a quiet place in the depths of Lotus Pier, in front of a black eight-cornered palace. As if scared that heād startle someone, Wei WuXian gently pushed the doors open and walked inside.
Before the palace neatly lay rows and rows of tablets.
It was the YunmengJiang Sectās ancestral hall.ā (Chapter 87, "Loyalty," ExR translation)
So what I assume is that after recapturing Lotus Pier and into the immediate post-war period, the sect lived in a partially razed Lotus Pier; this would explain why Wei Wuxian thinks of it as "tattered" and has to check whether his room is still standing; probably when he left, it was still there, if he hadn't been assigned new quarters.
At some point in the intervening period, Jiang Cheng successfully rebuilt, expanding the training fields and the buildings themselves. However, although the buildings are bigger and nicer, the layout is similar enough to the original that Wei Wuxian can find and recognize the ancestral hall. (It's not clear to me whether it's because it was never damaged, or because Jiang Cheng put it back exactly the way it was originally.)
Thinking about Jiang Cheng's character, the way he's conscious of his image and the image of the sect, it doesn't surprise me that he's improved the buildings. (It also sounds like he's grown the sect, if he needed to double the training fields.)
But we also know that he's kept Chengqing, and that it sounds great when Wei Wuxian plays it, which would require extremely careful maintenance.
So I think he's rebuilt in a way that's practical, that looks great to outsiders, that above all serves the needs of the sect, including the destruction of Wei Wuxian's old room (cough, cough, what could that possibly represent...). I would also assume that some repurposing of the family quarters was necessary, and that he moved from his original room to the Sect Leader's room, as expected.
And then I think he's got an unassuming room, unmarked, in the family wing, that's full of all his dead family's stuff, including Chengqing and anything Jiang Yanli left behind when she married. You know. The crying room.
TL;DR The outside looks great because all the sadness is carefully tucked away in three to six precious chests, which Jiang Cheng maintains devotedly and shows to no one.
kirishima is not a homebody and also he makes you sit in his lap everywhere you guys go. you literally never have your own seat bc kirishima will manhandle you into his lap if he has to
dreamt about a knight coming to you after a battle and getting on his knees in front of you and roaming his hands up your legs and smearing blood across your skin as he rests his cheek against your upper thigh. btw. additionally i would like to add taking his helmet off and hearing it rattle against the stone floor and running your hands through sweaty hair and praising him for protecting your kingdom. anyways.
so many ways a character can be dog-coded. stray following someone home and begging for scraps. old and needs to be put out of its misery. attack dog. guard dog. lap dog. puppy that pees on the carpet from excitement. shelter dog just happy to finally have feet to curl up on. unsocialized that bites anyone trying to show kindness. silly goofy puddle monster. obedient until the leash comes off
i think that boyfriend shouto would have this benign brand of pettish jealousy where he would never ever doubt your commitment but he would also 100% hear you compliment a man's shirt and suddenly, completely coincidentally be standing in your way, obscuring your entire line of vision to the guy
one of the best things about dating is being able to flirt shamelessly and be as irritating as humanly possible without an ounce of guilt or worry of misinterpretation . i can't vibe w someone who can't match my flirt or at least entertain me while they adamantly push me away like a hissing cat
flirting is fun when getting to know someone its like light and exciting but when you're already madly in love and you're showering someone with all your attention and they get that exasperated smile or get shy cause its still corny and cringe or get huffy and mildly annoyed... nothing will ever hit like that
i do think pro hero deku is prone to. hmmm being unintentionally condescending to you. also sometimes intentionally condescending if youāre being ādifficultā
