colonelarr0w

Latest Posts by colonelarr0w

back to me

pairing - bucky barnes x !hydra experiment! reader

sypnosis - the void isn't a very easy thing to pry yourself from.

warning(s) - spoilers for thunderbolts*, mature themes, foul language, canon marvel violence, mention of human experimentation, trauma, reader is lowkey bucky but in a diff font

author note - the only specific thing about the reader is that she's an ex hydra experiment who was called 'grim wolf'.

playlist - we hug now : sydney rose fake plastic tears : radiohead take aim : sleep token

also please give me bucky requests, the obsession from 13 is coming back and i need to be normal.

word count - 0.7k

what the hell was this?

one minute you had been following yelena to get bob back, half-listening to bucky and alexei yelling over your shoulder, and the next, you were back in that godawful room.

the one with sterile lights and a low hum that you still heard in your nightmares.

you exhale quietly, walking into the room, ignoring the churning in your gut and the way that your stomach whispered, "i have a bad feeling about this."

the doctors surrounding your body muttered things in russian to one another, some of them looking you over with interest while a select few licked their lips and not-so-secretly palmed at themselves. a grimace contorts your face as you watch - an audience member to your own traumas.

you hesitantly step closer, seeing now the version of you that you had spent so many nights trying to forget; the one who acted on someone else's thoughts, the one who was an uncaged animal, the one who killed without thinking of who it was first.

the one who had almost killed the people that would eventually become family.

teeth sink down into your bottom lip, drawing a thin line of blood that manages to keep you grounded. the first needle goes in, past you screams.

you wince, brows pinching as you watch the younger you thrash and beg - stringing together words that are barely cohearent over the rushed talking of the doctors. you watch as the younger you begs and pleads and cries, but how no one listens.

your heart pounds against your ribcage, thundering beneath your skin and reveberating against the shell of your ears. your hands curl inward, fists turning white from the pressure that you apply to yourself.

"let me go, please!" younger you begs, voice cracking and body trembling as realization begins to sink in. the doctors don't listen, and as the second needle goes in, you turn away.

-- --

it's not until later that night that bucky notices someting off about you; your shoulders are slumped, your voice sounds tired, and your eyes aren't entirely focused on any one thing in particular.

you weren't really there ... for lack of a better way to put it.

only after the others went to bed did bucky approach you, catching you in the kitchen with a shot of whiskey in front of you. you hadn't drank since the final battle against thanos.

he watches you for a minute, just taking you in. the slump to your body, the unshed tears in your eyes, the pain and hurt that radiated off of you.

"you're staring," you say, placing down your glass with a clink. bucky chuckles, entering the kitchen and sitting down at the kitchen island beside you. "hi."

"hey, doll," bucky responds, taking the glass as you offer it to him and taking a sip from it. you smile softly at him, taking the glass back and placing it down. "you okay?"

"fine." you don't mean to sound as harsh as you do, but being asked if you were okay was honestly the last thing that you wanted. but you didn't know what okay meant, you never did, and you honestly never would.

bucky pauses, tilting his head at you and exhaling softly. one hand cradles your face, tilting it upward so that softened blue could meet (e/c). his eyes roam over your face, taking in everything down to the crease between your eyebrows.

"doll -"

"bucky."

he stops again, glancing at you ... no, looking at you.

the tears in your eyes, the part of your lips, the wrinkle to your forehead, the slight quiver to your chin. you were breaking at the seams, now he could see that.

so he does something about it.

one warm arm and one cool one wraps around you, pulling you forward slightly so that he could properly hold you. you don't protest, sliding into his arms and pressing your forehead against his shoulder. vibranium rubs comfortingly against your back, bucky's cheek coming to rest on the side of your head.

"i've got you."

you close your eyes, whimpering silently but letting yourself be held. bucky doesn't say anything, doesn't try to reassure you with words that wouldn't do anything. he holds you, cradles you.

and maybe you wouldn't ever know what it meant to be okay. but right now, in his arms ...

... you did feel okay.

oh god, i wanna feel again

pairing - joel miller x !female! reader

synopsis - i feel like y'all already know. but then again, no you don't.

warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, canon TLOU violence, descriptions of depression, main character death, suicide

please do not read if suicide or mentions of the topic will trigger you. your mental health matters more than a piece of fanfiction.

word count - 0.9k

it had been silent for weeks now.

the miller home, that was what was silent.

the big wooden house just on the corner of the street that connected the residences to the main parts of jackson. the house with the hand-painted mailbox with the inking of the word 'miller' messily drawn into its side.

a house that you couldn't bring yourself to look at. every time you found yourself walking that block, you made a detour. every time. without fail. you couldn't even bring yourself to tip your head in its direction.

you didn't want to see the wisps of what could've been. the life that you could have had, the love that you could have held onto if you had been faster. if you had been stronger. if you had been there like you said that you always would be.

but you were a liar.

"m'here for you," you had said, leaning into the flannel that was wrapped delicately around the tops of your shoulders. "even if y'don't want me t'be."

joel turned back to you, seeing the genuine truth glinting in your eyes like the stars that you were both occupied with watching. your lips curved into a smile when his gaze met yours - just as soft and loving as the millions of times that you'd smiled at him before.

he'd leaned closer to you, calloused hands cradling either side of your face like you were the one things his hands were made to hold. you nuzzled the warmth that radiated up from his skin, smiling as he pressed a kiss to your forhead. his lips lingered, his breath fanned out over your skin, and he'd muttered a quiet, "love you" against your skin.

you couldn't look ellie in the eyes either. you didn't want to see the sadness in her eyes, you didn't want to see the slump of her shoulders, you didn't want to be reminded of what she had lost that day.

because you didn't just lose the love of your life. she'd lost her dad that day. and it was your fault ... it had always been your fault.

you didn't even try. you just laid there underneath nora's legs, her knees pressing into the center of your spine, keeping you pinned down against the ground. you had screamed, sure, but what good would your voice do in the face of a vengeful daughter?

nothing. that was the answer.

it wouldn't do jackshit.

abby still hit the club against the side of his head. still killed him. it didn't matter to her that you had screamed. that you had begged. that you had cried and pleaded and whimpered and shouted. it didn't fucking matter.

joel's blank eyes had stared at you, the sight of them forever engrained into your memory. his bloodied body laid in front of you, his fingers already pale like he had been dead for weeks. his eyes were puffy, blood clung to his skin, his chest was still.

as much as you didn't want to believe it, he was dead.

and you'd been right there, the entire time.

your mind hadn't shut up since then. whispers in the shadows that followed you, echoes of his pain, echoes of your pain. you heard your own voice every night when your head hit the pillow. you heard him gurgling, choking on his own blood. you heard the impact of metal on skin.

it was like a cycle. never-ending. always continuing right from the beginning once it was finished.

you just wanted it to stop.

guilt followed you like a plague. it clung to your skin like a leech, sucking away whatever humanity still remained in your hollowed-out bones. it didn't leave you alone, didn't let you rest. always following, always there.

the gun looked friendly one night. it wasn't yours, it was his. a polished piece of metal that he'd cleaned a night or two before taking that patrol with dina.

you reached for it, not really thinking. you turned it over, seeing his initals that he'd carved into the handle. beside it was a tiny heart, that had been your little addition.

"to remind you of little ol' me," you'd told him lovingly. he'd kissed you after that.

dragging your feet, you found yourself on the porch of the wooden house on the corner. the first time in ... what? two weeks? three? four? hell, you didn't know.

the inside was the same as the day that he left. it was still cozy, still warm, still the remanants of a home. everything was right where he had left it last, clean and organized.

you exhale slowly, standing in the center of the living room. slowly you turn in a circle, taking in the surroundings that seemed to mock you. they remind you of what you could have had, of the domesticity that you had been chasing for years.

of the love that had slipped through your fingers like sand.

the muzzle presses cold against your temple. it makes you shiver.

your finger presses against the trigger, caressing it like the cheek of the lover that you had lost.

one...

two...

bang.

the gun hits the floor before you do. blood sprays the wall behind you, some of it paints the floor beneath you. the breath that leaves you is quick, fleeting.

your hand outstretches, your mind goes blank, and your world ends.

but it didn't matter.

you had been dead for a long time anyway.

you had died in that room with him. the only difference was that only one of you had stopped breathing.

things were quiet now.

the miller house was quiet.

fin.

Can I request an instance where jjk men have been busy lately and y/n sees jjk men out and with another woman (she doesn’t know the woman is a relative or coworker) and y/n shoots at them? 🤣 preferably Toji, Satoru, Sukuna and Shiu? I feel like those men would be the only ones that would be secretly turned on by their girl shooting at them. Lol

Posted! (Sorry this took so long.)

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Baby, what?!

In which you shoot at them to prove a point! Requested? Yes / No Includes : Gojo, Sukuna, Toji, Shiu A/N - Sorry for vanishing on y’all.

Baby, what?!

In which you shoot at them to prove a point!

Requested? Yes / No

Includes : Gojo, Sukuna, Toji, Shiu

A/N - Sorry for vanishing on y’all. College sucks; yada yada. Leave me some SMAU requests ‘cause I love seeing everyone’s ideas!

You had never been the biggest fan of love.

That was until you met the bundle of nothing but love that was Satoru Gojo. A man who, on the surface, seemed childish and immature, but in reality, was a man who would lay down his life if it meant seeing you smile for all of eternity.

A man who would hold you as if you were made of glass. You'd lost count of how many nights you'd spent curled in his arms on the couch. His arms around your waist and one of his hands carding through your hair.

A man who spoiled you to the high heavens. Anything you stared at, even if it was for a millisecond, was suddenly pushed into your hands. Each time you denied it, Satoru pushed it further and further into your hold, a wide smile plastered onto that beautiful face of his.

Satoru Gojo was a man who loved with his entire heart, holding it out to you and smiling once you took it into his hands. You had returned his love with a love of your own, and for a long time, everything was absolutely perfect.

But now, staring down at the rain-covered headstone, you fell back into a mindset that had once debilitated you. With clenched teeth, you place down the bouquet you'd brought with you, exhaling slowly as you stand and turn away from the words carved into the stone.

After Satoru Gojo, there was nobody you'd ever love again.

I really love your writing and smaus :) how do you think the jjk guys would react/care to reader being sick/injured and hiding it from them/acting strong?

I apologize in advance to any Choso fans…

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Tell Me!

In which you don’t tell the JJK men that you’re injured. Requested? : Yes / No Includes : Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Ino, Toji, Shiu, Sukuna, Meg

Tell Me!

In which you don’t tell the JJK men that you’re injured.

Requested? : Yes / No

Includes : Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Ino, Toji, Shiu, Sukuna, Megumi, Choso, Itadori

Feel free to leave requests for future SMAUs!

Not Today … Please?

In which you feel as though the JJK men are with you only for sex.

Requested? - Yes / No

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Ino, Toji, Shiu, Sukuna, Choso

Your Boyfriend is Here!

In which you need your boyfriend to hug you after a long day/week.

Requested - Yes / No

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Shiu, Sukuna, Choso, Yuuji, Megumi, Inumaki

Oops .. sorry!

In which you accidentally ignore the JJK men during a nap!

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuuji, Megumi, Choso

JJK SMAU Requests!!

Hey everyone, I understand it’s been a very long time since I’ve uploaded a piece to this blog. But I thought I should try my hand at SMAUs, considering that they don’t take nearly as much time as writing and editing a full piece (for me anyway).

If you’d like, you can leave a request for any kind of SMAU that you’d like to see, I’m open to any and all suggestions.

- colonelarr0w

hihi! im a newer follower of yours, so I apologise if you've already done this, but if you haven't would you mind doing an smau of the jjk men if their child took their phone/ took your phone? no pressure at all, and thanks! your writing is amazing :)

Phone Thief

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

Hi hiiii I love ur writing sm, can u maybe do a Smau with the Jjk characters where they accidentally raise their voice at us and we run into a different room crying and they try and comfort us? Thxx ^^

I Didn’t Mean It

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

A/N : Realistically, I can’t see Yuuji, Megumi, or Choso ever yelling at their S/O, so they’re not included.

You’re okay … right? (2)

In which your mission ends, but are you okay?

Includes : Gojo, Geto. Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuuji, Megumi, Choso

Tag List : @klynne , @an-ever-angry-bi , @namjooningera , @abcdbleh

You’re okay … right?

The JJK men messaging you during a failed mission.

Thank you to @klynne for requesting!

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Choso, Megumi, Yuuji

I feel like Geto would mesh really well with a !Non-Affectionate partner.

Personally, I don’t see Geto as the biggest cuddle bug or being the biggest fan of PDA. I feel like his love languages fall more in line with quality time and gift giving. That doesn’t mean that he despises physical affection or anything of that sort — I just feel like he would rather use other methods in order to display his undying love for you.

SMAU idea for Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna and Toji, with fem Y/N who had heart problems sending a bikini photo only for them to notice her heart surgery scar for the first time.

She has always been insecure but sent it in a fit of courage, they have never seen her topless before, since the relationship is new.

Maybe Not …

When you send the JJK men a little something, but don’t like it entirely.

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

Do you love me?

Asking the JJK men if they still love you.

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji Sukuna, Choso, Megumi, Yuuji

Leave requests in my inbox if you want to see more!!

JJK SMAU Requests!!

Hey everyone, I understand it’s been a very long time since I’ve uploaded a piece to this blog. But I thought I should try my hand at SMAUs, considering that they don’t take nearly as much time as writing and editing a full piece (for me anyway).

If you’d like, you can leave a request for any kind of SMAU that you’d like to see, I’m open to any and all suggestions.

- colonelarr0w

NANAMI never considered himself to be a domestic man. His focuses lied elsewhere -- mainly in his work as a Jujutsu Sorcerer and completing the duties that were constantly being forced into his hands.

For a long time, Nanami didn't care about the late nights he spent cooped up at Jujutsu Tech. He didn't care about the pile of paperwork that only seemed to grow in size every time he looked at it. He didn't care about the bags underneath his eyes or the slouch to his shoulders.

But then ... you came along.

And suddenly Nanami wasn't at Jujutsu Tech until two in the morning. He wasn't skipping lunch breaks in favor of working to decrease his workload. He wasn't pouring his focus into paperwork that, quite frankly, could wait until the morning.

Now he was clocking out at exactly 6pm every night, glancing down at his phone and smiling at the little messages that you had sent him throughout the day.

Good morning Ken! Thank you for the coffee, I hope you were able to take some for yourself. Have a good day, and I'll see you later! <3

Hey Ken! I'm on a little break with the first years right now, I swear Gojo never knows how to properly control them. Yuuji says hi!

Hi Ken! I don't mean to keep bothering you so much throughout the day, I get that you must be doing your own thing. I was just texting to make sure you've eaten, it's getting a little late.

Nanami's lips curl upward as he scrolls through every message, reading each word and feeling his chest warm with love for you. He stows his phone away into his pocket, going down the familiar streets to where you wait patiently for him.

Maybe Nanami hadn't previously been a domestic man. But for you?

Yeah ... Nanami was definitely a domestic man.

Here's a little Nanami snippet to munch on while I write a much bigger piece.

“Ah, there you are. What are you doing out here my love?” 

You lift your head, turning just enough to cast a glance over your shoulder — then met with the sight of Nanami standing in the open doorframe of one of Jujutsu Tech’s many buildings. In his hands is one of his jackets, one that you no doubt would have draped over your shoulders the moment that he approached you.  

You don’t answer him, opting instead to listen to the soft patter of the rain that you had been so attentively listening to just moments before.  

“Jus’ admiring the rain,” you answer after a beat of silence, turning back to stare out at the outdoor grounds of Jujutsu High. Your lips turn upward at the sight of a few students walking about, their jackets tugged over their heads to prevent themselves from getting wet.  

Nanami hums, taking a step forward. Just as you had predicted, he lays the jacket over your shoulders, then lowering himself to sit down at your side. 

Your body shifts closer to him, like a magnet drawn to its opposite. Your cheek leans against his shoulder, with his arm lifting and coming to rest over your shoulders, holding you against his side.  

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Nanami inquires after a pause, tilting his head so that his cheek rests comfortably against the top of your head.  

You chuckle breathily, eyes fluttering shut as your body soaks up the warmth that radiates off of Nanami.  

“Nothing, just thinking of how pretty the rain is,” you murmur in response. Now it’s Nanami’s turn to chuckle, a deep rumble that brings a light pink tint to your cheeks.  

Not nearly as pretty as you, he thinks, still holding you tightly against him.  

The Shibuya Incident

JJK characters in Shibuya.

INCLUDED - Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto (!Non-Defected), Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Ino Takuma, Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro

WARNINGS - mature themes, foul language, mentions of death, explicit death, gore, canon JJK violence, mental breakdowns, mass murder

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"Hey, hey. Take a breath for me," Gojo says softly to you, his thumbs smoothing over the skin just beneath your eyes. You're panicking in his arms, eyes flickering wildly about. Your body is shaking in his hold, fear radiating off of you in frantic waves.  

Even with his soft-spoken command, you can't. The ability to breathe feels like it's been ripped out from underneath your feet, replaced instead by sharpened inhales that only make your head spin and your throat burn. The feeling of his skin on your own, while it would've calmed you in any other situation, seemed to only make you feel worse.  

"Satoru," you try to bite out, but his name comes out like a breathy plea. His shoulders sag, the eyes behind his blindfold softening as he watches you descend into your own mind. He's just as scared as you are – walking into that veil was the exact same as walking into the belly of an angered beast.  

He didn't want to do it, and hell he wished that you would've stayed home where at least he knew that you were safe. But duty called … duty always called. "Honey, you have to breathe. Take a breath." 

Though you struggle, you inhale shakily. Gojo nods at you, encouraging you to take another breath. His shoulders raise in an emphasized show of breathing, which he only lowers once he sees your body mimicking the movement of his own.  

"There you go--" 

Gojo's words fall dead on his tongue as you tug his body against your own, arms winding around his waist and holding him in a bone-crushing embrace. In any other situation, he would've laughed at you – teased you even. But this time, he doesn’t.  

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you against him while his cheek lays against the top of your head. He sighs, feeling you shake against him as you conceal your crying into his chest, sobs caught by the thickened fabric of the shirt that he wears.  

"Promise me that you'll come back," you whisper, voice barely audible, but he hears you. Gojo sighs, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his. Your hands shakily lift, pushing up his blindfold to see that his eyes shine with tears just like yours do. "Promise me 'toru." 

He smiles tearfully at you, nodding his head and craning his neck to place a loving kiss against your forehead. He lingers there for a moment, feeling you sigh against him as you close your eyes.  

"I promise." 

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), c'mon, answer me!" Geto must sound like a madman to the sorcerers' that accompany him, but their opinion of him holds no importance – not when he can't find you. 

Your phone had gone dead the moment that you entered the station, which he had expected and anticipated. But it didn't make his heart sink any less when he suddenly couldn't reach you. That meant that he wasn't sure if you were safe, or if you were even alive.  

And now, with an entire portion of the station infested with transfigured humans, Geto had one singular goal. That was to find you and get the fuck out of Shibuya, mission be damned. 

So he sprinted through the train station in a manner akin to a rabid animal, tearing through anything that stood in his path with whatever curse he was able to conjure up. It felt like he had been caught in tunnel vision, only able to see in front of him – all he wanted was to make sure that you were safe. 

"(Y/N)! Thank God, there you--" He pauses, his breath catching in his throat. It feels like he's been punched in the gut. His body stands rigid, eyes widening slowly at the sight that lies in front of him.  

You're there, you're right there in front of him. But your body is held in the hands of a transfigured curse, one with devilish eyes and a wicked smile that quickly burns itself into Geto's memory. He'd never forget that smile, ever.  

Weakly, your head turns so that your gaze meets his. "Suguru," is the only word that you're able to muster up in your current state. The freakishly large hand around you tightens, and with a painful grimace, you're gone before Geto could even process what was happening.  

And he stands there, eyes wide and body stiff, mirroring a position that he stood in years and years ago. 

"Kento …?" Your heart sinks as you slowly approach your husband's back, feeling your chest tighten in fear at the curse that stands behind him, hand raised – Mahito.  

Nanami's spine momentarily straightens at the sound of your voice, head turning just enough that he could watch you walk closer out of the corner of his eye. He wants to open his mouth to tell you to run, to reunite with the others and save yourself. But selfishly, he doesn't. 

He waits until you walk completely into view, shocked that Mahito even lets you. He had expected the child-like curse to round on you and promptly blow you to oblivion in front of his very eyes. He looks tired, exhausted even. You soften, tears already pricking at your eyes. 

"(Y/N)," he murmurs in that silky voice that always had the ability to make you weak. Even now, in a moment where you know that you were both completely and utterly doomed, you smile. Sure, it's a weak little quirk of your lips, but Nanami feels his heart soar at the sight of it.  

You shake your head, eyes flickering between your husband's and Mahito's, struggling to focus on one. Shakily, you lift your arms, readying yourself to attack Mahito. Even as you shake underneath your own fear, you still try to protect him – even if was in vain. 

"I love you," Nanami says to you, breaking your focus on Mahito and returning it to himself. Teary (E/C) eyes flicker to meet dulled hazel, and again, Nanami smiles. Your chest tightens, coiling with guilt over the lack of control that you had over the situation. "I love you … so much." 

"Kento," you breathe out, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I love you too, but--" 

Mahito doesn't let you finish your thought, and in a flash of crimson, Nanami is gone. Your eyes widen, your body stands as still as stone. The curse only smiles, then rounding on you. You exhale shakily, eyes flickering down to what's left of your husband before Mahito's palm hovers in front of your face. 

With closed eyes, you accept your fate. 

"You better fucking be here," you murmur to yourself, skidding on your heels and sprinting through the empty train station. Apart from your ragged breathing, the only sounds that fill your ears are the distant screams of the innocent and the garbled communication between curses.  

Halfway through a one-on-one fight with a low-grade curse, you had felt a prickle of energy across your skin. It was energy that you were familiar with, one that you had committed to memory for occasions just like the one that you were currently living through.  

The moment you felt it, you followed it. Choso. 

You nearly roll your ankle as you skid to a stop, eyes having caught sight of what you had been so desperately searching for. He’s looking around for you just like you had been for him, and the moment your eyes meet, you’re running at each other.  

His arms are around you the moment that you brush against him, tugging you against his chest and burying his nose into your hair.  

You don’t mind being crushed against him, not when you had been out-of-your-mind worried about him since you’d stepped foot in the Shibuya station. 

“(Y/N),” Choso murmurs into your hair, squeezing you tighter as he screws his eyes shut. Your nails bite into his back, bunching up the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t care, he truly doesn’t. Not when you were safe, not when you were breathing.   

“I’m here Choso, and I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, voice muffled by the thickened fabric of his shirt. His arms squeeze you again, and a comfortable silence falls over the both of you.  

You could both go home and hopefully, just hopefully, you could forget about Shibuya entirely. 

It had been years, fucking years, since you heard that voice. Years since you’d heard that snarky voice either insulting you or telling you that he loved you — there was never a healthy in-between.  

And now, you were standing in front of him. Your ears were hearing his voice, your eyes were seeing his face. Toji fucking Fushiguro. 

But unlike the other times that you had seen him, this encounter was drastically different. He was trying to kill you, not bed you. 

“Toji?” you inquire with a tilt of your head, watching as the broad man stalks you like a lion would its prey. “Toji? What’s …?” Your words fall dead as he swipes at you, fingers closed around the handle of a weapon that you definitely didn't know the name of.  

You jerk back away from him, widened eyes flickering up between the weapon in his hands and his face – which for some odd reason remains blank; you can't read him at all. His eyes are a void, his expression completely void of anything that might even entertain the idea that he was human.  

With every time he lunges at you, you retaliate by taking a quick step back. Your eyes flicker up to Toji's face, and for a fleeting moment both of your eyes meet. His entire body freezes, eyes staring into your own as if you were an alien. The weapon that had been pressed against your chest is pulled away from you so swiftly that you barely process the movement.  

"Toji what the fuck--" 

"(Y/N)." The utterance of your name had you pausing, watching him as he straightened up, rising to his full height. The eyes that once looked like two small black voids are full of life now, their irises that very same color that you once spent hours lovingly staring into.  

How is it that he looked exactly the same as the day you lost him? 

You don't say anything as he steps towards you, his hands dropping the weapon that he had been holding so tightly onto just a moment before. Those same, calloused hands cup either side of your face, holding it just as tenderly as you had remembered.  

You don't know when, but at some point your eyes welled up with tears – tears that Toji thumbs away. He stares down so softly at you, a stark contrast to the hatred that had filled his eyes just seconds before. This was the Toji you remembered, not whatever had attacked you. 

There were very few things that you feared in the world. Being a sorcerer had done that to you, had worn down your ability to feel true, genuine fear. But now? Right now? 

All you felt was icy fear searing through your body as if someone had dunked you naked into an ice bath.  

There was an endless pit where an endless pit definitely should not have been. And standing over it was the one person you had trusted with your life, even if trusting him meant simultaneously putting yourself in immense danger every time that you spent a moment with him.  

His hands are in his pockets, his eyes staring out over the destruction that he had caused with a proud smirk etched into his face. He holds no remorse, you know that he doesn't, but the calmness of his demeanor only adds to your fear.  

"Ryo …?" Your voice is laced with hesitance as you approach his back, legs shaking with each step that you decide to take. He doesn't turn completely to face you, but you notice the small nod of his head in your direction. "What … what did you do?" 

Sukuna sighs – a long and heavy breath that is riddled with pride over his actions. The lives that were potentially lost amidst his destruction meant nothing to him, and they would never mean anything to him.  

"I had my fun," he says plainly, turning completely to face you. He spares you no reaction even though he can so clearly see the fear painted onto your face. It makes him smirk, the tip of his nail running along the underside of your jaw. "Come now, I'm not quite finished with this body yet." 

You shiver as Sukuna walks past you, tearing your gaze away from the gaping hole right smack in the center of Shibuya. You didn't even want to begin to think about the lives that had been lost, how painful and slow their deaths must've been. How much did they scream? How many of them begged for mercy? 

You shake your head, dispelling those thoughts. Hesitantly, you turn to glance at Sukuna, noticing that he had stopped — waiting for you to join his side. You bite your lip, and regretfully, you move to follow him.  

“Hey, there you are. Someone’s been asking for you,” Shoko says with a barely-there smile as you sit up. Immediately, a dull ache douses over your body like someone had dunked you underwater. You groan lightly, pressing a palm against your forehead and glancing up at Shoko.  

“Really?” you murmur weakly, rolling your shoulders as Shoko takes a step back. Ino stands behind her, his arms and legs bandaged just like yours were. His face morphs into relief as your eyes meet his — and even though he stumbles over his own feet, he beelines for you.  

He’s careful not to accidentally upset any of your injuries as he tugs you into his arms, crushing you against his chest and burying his nose into your hair. He can feel you shudder against him, your own arms returning his bone-crushing embrace with one of his own. 

“You’re okay. Holy fuck you’re okay,” Ino murmurs into your hair, barely registering your hands as they comfortingly rub up and down the length of his spine.  

“Yeah,” you whisper into his chest, voice barely audible over the thickened fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, I’m okay.”  

Ino squeezes you tighter, then allowing you to pull away. His hands cup your face, thumbing away the tears that roll down your cheeks. He smiles, and his heart soars when you mirror it. Ino is quick to lean in, lips pressing to yours.  

You return his kiss immediately, leaning impossibly further into him and chasing his lips with your own. He breaks from you, much to your dismay, and leans his forehead onto yours. You can feel his shaky sigh as it fans out over your face, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his skin against your own.  

"Don't go anywhere." Ino's voice shakes as he speaks to you, the grip that he has over you momentarily tightening as he tugs you against him. You sigh, returning his embrace just as tightly and burying your face away into his shoulder.  

"Yuuji? Yuuji!"  

He turns at the sound of your voice, ears perked like a curious puppy. The tears sliding down his cheeks feel as though they've paused at the sight of you – stumbling over your feet as you reach him. The moment you do, your arms are locked around his neck, throwing yourself against him with enough force that he stumbles back. 

He hesitates, hands shaking as they hover above the small of your back. Do you even know what happened? Could he tell you? 

You pause at the feeling of his body trembling against your own. His arms were locked at his sides as if he had lost all ability to even use them. You slowly take a step back from him, noticing the faraway look glazed over his eyes and the way that he struggles to focus on one single thing – including you.  

Hesitantly, you lift your hands to his cheeks, palms laying against his skin. Your touch almost immediately brings him back to reality; you can see it in the way that his eyes snap to meet your gaze, wide and slightly fearful. But not scared of you, rather, scared of himself.  

"Hey, what's--" 

"Don't. Please don't," he interrupts you, shaking his head against your hands. His palms lift to lay over your own, fingers squeezing you in a way that silently begged you not to leave. You nod, steering his head down to yours so that your forehead can lightly rest against his own.  

Wordlessly, you nod. Your hands shift in position, arms wrapping around his neck again and bringing his body back to your own. His hands immediately go to bunch up the back of your shirt, fingers curling into the fabric in a way that screams 'Don't leave me'.  

And you don't. You stand there, closing your eyes and letting Yuuji cling to you as if you were the last bit of what could keep him sane – and in a way, that was exactly what you were. To Yuuji, you were a lifeline – a resemblance of the humanity that he continued to throw away the more that he switched with Sukuna. 

"I'm right here Yuuji," you whisper into his shoulder, receiving a loving squeeze in response to your words. "And I'm not going anywhere." 

“Promise me you’ll come back safe,” you say, squeezing Megumi’s hands and blinking back the tears that had slowly begun to gather along your waterline. He sighs, reaching one of his hands up to lightly cup the back of your head.  

He brings your forehead to his own, closing his eyes the moment that his skin comes into contact with your own. He can feel you shudder against him, a shaky sigh falling from your nose. “I promise you … with everything I have in me, I promise you.” 

But that had been hours ago, and you had no idea if Megumi was safe. You had separated from him shortly after that conversation, with you joining Nobara and Nitta and Megumi going off to find Yuuji. In the two hours that you spent fighting against curses and transfigured humans, you hadn’t heard anything about any of the others — including Megumi. 

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s with Yuuji after all, isn’t he?” Nobara says reassuringly to you, nudging your shoulder with her own. You turn to glance at her, swallowing the lump in your throat and forcing your head up and down in a nod.  

“Yeah … I guess so,” you answer hesitantly, smiling weakly as Nitta places a comforting hand on your shoulder. The three of you continue walking, a comfortable yet uncomfortable silence falling over your heads. Surrounding you are the sounds of a distant chaos, bystanders scream, transfigured humans gurgle out grotesque noises — reality doesn’t quite feel like reality.  

You pause at the sound of something approaching you, both Nobara and Nitta stopping as well. Three pairs of eyes gaze down a darkened alleyway, and your heart stops at what waits at the alleyway’s end. 

Megumi’s Divine Dog. 

Its ears prick upward at the sight of you, eyes fixed on you in the darkness. Its tail flicks back and forth before it approaches you, not stopping until it nudges its head into the palm of your hand. You scratch lightly behind its ears, eyes flickering to Nobara.  

“You both need to go … I need to find—“ 

“No way. What if something happens to you too?” Nobara interrupts you, reaching out and clasping your shoulders. The shikigami barks angrily in Nobara’s direction, protectively stepping in front of you and making the brunette stumble back.  

“Nobara, I can’t just leave him where he is,” you insist, blinking back tears. “I have to. I have to go and find Megumi.” 

Nobara shakes her head again, and instead, she pulls you into her arms. You still, glancing at Nitta, who only looks away. “You can’t (Y/N).” 

“He sent the dog to make sure that you don’t look for him.” 

!Redeemed Papa Toji is on the menu for tonight everyone. <3

< … >

“Mama pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

You pause from where you stand in the doorframe of Megumi’s bedroom, curiously peering in on the adorable sight that lays out in front of you. Sitting in the center of the room is Toji, his ankles crossed over one another so that Megumi could sit comfortably in his lap.

Nestled between Toji’s large hands is a scrapbook, one that you had been making long before you’d met Toji. There were pictures of childhood memories, birthday parties, high school events, college graduation, and so much more. But recently you’d added new memories; your wedding and Megumi’s birth to name a few.

Megumi had made Toji pause on the page that you had dedicated to your wedding. Pasted on the page is multiple pictures of you wearing white, of Toji standing crying at the alter, of you and Toji dancing during the reception, and (Toji’s personal favorite) you laughing with Toji with wedding cake smeared onto your face.

A chubby little finger was pointing to one picture in particular, one of you wearing your white gown with your hair all done up. You were only half-facing the camera, eyes focused on something just behind the lens. But Megumi was looking down at the picture with such a sparkle in his eye that you would have thought he were looking at a picture of a goddess.

His father’s expression mirrors that of his son. Fond eyes stare down at the same picture, a small smile stretching out the scar nestled on the left side of his face.

“Mama!”

Megumi’s happy cry breaks Toji from his trance, head turning to watch as you walk into the bedroom. With a smile, you lift the toddler into your arms, laughing breathily as he sloppily kisses your cheek. “Hi ‘gumi, what are you and Papa up to?”

“Looking at you!” Megumi responds, pointing down to the scrapbook in Toji’s lap. You chuckle, lowering yourself to sit beside Toji, glancing him and biting back a playful insult at the flustered expression that your husband wears.

“Is that so?” you question with a playful raise of your eyebrow. Toji smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging both you and Megumi against his chest.

You grin, leaning into your husband’s hold and glancing down at Megumi again. He smiles up at you, with all of his little teeth and those bright eyes that shined like stars. You lean down, kissing the toddler’s forehead.

Toji watches through fond eyes as Megumi quickly leans up to reciprocate your kiss. He squeezes you and Megumi tighter against his chest, cheek resting against the top of your head. If only he had a camera.

Listen, I am all for Larian’s beautiful cutscenes and character moments —

— but why the fuck weren’t we allowed to comfort Astarion after he murders Cazador?

(Consider this a little fix-it fic for that specific moment in game.)

His cries were heartbreaking to hear.

They echoed throughout the dungeon, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in your ears, making your chest tighten further and further.

His body shakes as his cries die down, shifting back to rest on his knees as his eyes blankly stare down at Cazador's corpse. Stray tears drip down his cheeks and mix with the blood that coats his face, yet he makes no move to wipe any of it away.

Astarion's neck and body stand rigid as his ears begin to ring, drowning out the sounds of the confused spawn that surround him. Their voices sound muddled in his head, buzzed little whispers that he can't decipher.

He's dissociated completely, separated from reality in a way that makes your heart crack. His eyes were blank, devoid of that usual mischievous spark that never failed to make you smile. Now he was a hollowed out man, one troubled by a past that he had just ripped himself from -- by means of murder.

Slowly, you approach him, your hands planted firmly against your sides so that you would not be tempted to accidentally overwhelm him. Your eyes rake over the entirety of his figure -- his blank eyes, his devoid expression, his hunched body. You couldn't put into words the heartbreak you felt simply by gazing at him.

"Astarion."

His head just barely tilts in your direction, as if he hadn't heard you properly. Unlike the voices of the spawn that surround him, your voice sounds as clear as day to him. It pierces through the ringing that buzzes in his ears, reaching him with a softness that feels so foreign yet so familiar at the same time.

You kneel down beside him, glancing quickly at Cazador's corpse before your gaze flickers to glance at his profile.

Silently, you reach your arms out, wrapping them around Astarion's neck and lightly pulling him against your chest. He doesn't fight against your touch. Oddly enough, he finds himself leaning into it even though every atom of his body wants to fight and thrash against you.

"I'm here," you murmur to him, tightening your hold on him. "I'm right here with you."

Astarion's hands grip onto your arms that encircle him, his eyes falling shut as he soaks up the warmth of your embrace like a dried sponge.

And in your arms, his world goes quiet. But not in a way that scares him. No, this touch ... your touch ... it comforts him.

It reminds him that his actions were worth it in the end, for he was able to turn and find you still at his side.

Just a random, domestic scenario that I thought of about Astarion and it made me soft enough to put into writing.

Picture this …

Astarion, especially after everything that he’s been through with Cazador, definitely has to re-teach himself what it means to love without primarily focusing on physical intimacy. Everything that he’s ever known about loving someone, or rather, everything that he thought that he knew about loving someone is restricted solely to sex.

Of course, his understanding of love drastically changes when you waltz into his life. You with your words of affirmation, you with your soft hands, you with the hugs and kisses that don’t necessarily lead to something more. It strikes him as odd … why is it that you saw past his body and looked at him? Really, truly looked at him.

In the beginning, it scares him. It invokes a feeling in him that he wasn’t able to define, and in truth, it scared him. It scared him that every time your arms wrapped around him or every time your lips touched his, he felt warm. For a second, for one singular split second, Astarion felt alive.

And because of that, he pushed you away. It scared him even more when you actually let him.

“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” you’d told him one night. You were sitting up beside him, his head resting beside your thigh while his eyes stared up at the flickering night sky. “I have no problem waiting for you.”

And wait for him you did. Never once did you pressure him into anything, never once did you make him feel as if your touch was anything but comforting — you didn’t want him to revert back to the mindset that he had become so accustomed to. When he reached for you, you did the same. And if he didn’t, you never grew angry with him.

For that, he was thankful.

All of your waiting comes to a head one night at the camp’s fire. As usual, you sit at Astarion’s side, both of you sitting in a comfortable silence. His fingers itch to hold yours, but he wills himself to stay completely still — even though he wants to hold and touch you, something in him roots him to his place, preventing it.

“Astarion?” He turns at the sound of your voice, blinking away the glazed look that had pained his eyes in favor of looking at you instead. Your eyebrows pinch together, creasing the space between your eyes. “Are you alright love?”

“Fine,” he answers, voice dead and cold. You hum, nodding your head, not prying any further. Even though he certainly doesn’t want to speak about what plagues his mind, a small part of him also wished that you would pry — likely because he knew that eventually, he would crack.

But you don’t. Because you understand the possibility that he would shut himself away further, retreating back to a place where you might not be able to reach him. “Alright, but if something is bothering you, you know that I am here for you.”

“That’s what … scares me,” Astarion whispers, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the camp’s fire. You turn your head to him, gaze catching his profile, silently waiting for him to continue. “Why do you stay … knowing that what you give isn’t reciprocated?”

His question catches you off guard. Was that what was bothering him? His inability to reciprocate the love that you so easily gave to him? Your heart sinks, eyes softening as you angle yourself to look at Astarion fully. The intensity of your gaze makes him feel as if you’re looking through him — through the flirtatious facade that he had put up constantly and seeing Astarion. Seeing ‘Little Star.’

Your silence worries him; makes him feel as if what he had asked you was wrong. Your lips are pressed into a firm, thin line with your eyes focused so intently on his own. Astarion feels as if you’re analyzing him … judging him. But you’re not, and he knows that you’re not.

“Because I don’t do the things that I do expecting it to be reciprocated,” you answer easily, allowing your lips to turn upward into a soft smile. A smile that begins to melt away the iceberg of worry nestled somewhere in Astarion’s chest. You inhale deeply, holding your hand up with your palm facing Astarion. “Here, if you’re okay with it, I want you to lay your palm against mine.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, confused. His gaze flickers between your upheld palm and your eyes, which hold no ounce of malice or ill intent. Hesitantly, and very slowly, he lifts his palm. And slowly, very slowly, he brings it towards your own, laying it flat against yours.

Shockingly, the touch doesn’t burn. It doesn’t leave behind a searing scar that he would look at with distaste. Instead, it fills him with a comfortable warmth, one that reinforces the genuine love that you feel for him. The love that extends far beyond physical intimacy, far beyond sex — far beyond anything that Astarion had ever experienced.

“Something as small as this,” you say, not moving your palm from against Astarion’s, “is enough reciprocation for everything.”

He remains silent, watching you. You smile, and as if running on autopilot, he returns it.

Astarion, once he's comfortable with you, is definitely the type of man to sleepily reach for you when he realizes that you've rolled out of his arms at night.

Like the moment, and I mean the moment, that he doesn't feel you wrapped up in his arms, he's up. Sure, he's groggy as all hell and he can't properly see anything around him -- but all he knows is that he's not holding you when he most definitely should be.

He'll push himself up onto his elbows, squinting to see that you've turned yourself away from him and rolled out of his arms. Your back is turned to him, but he knows that it wasn't intentional.

With a fanged yawn, Astarion reaches for you again. His arms loop around your waist and turn you around, tucking your head beneath his chin. Instinctively, your legs tangle with his own, your arms adjusting to wrap around his midsection.

He grins to himself, content again.

 Hiiii, I have a request. Imagine a highschool AU where reader has a massive crush on Sukuna but she thinks he has a thing with Uraume, but he actually likes her. Ok ok, so hear me out. Reader is childhood friends with Yuuji and Sukuna and she notices how Sukuna and Uraume have been hanging out a lot. So she asks Yuuji if Sukuna is going to prom and he says yes, and that he is probably going with Uraume. So reader is sad and doesn't want to go to prom anymore even after already buy her dress. Buttt, the day before prom, Sukuna and Reader end up talking and she mentions how he and Uraume are going together and he is confused.  Then they both confess and end up going together. Pleaseeeeee make this as angsty as possible, I love me some good angst😫

A/N - Ooh, you know I love me some angst. And considering that it's actually prom season right now, this makes this fic that much more personal to me (I don't have a date LMAO).

The Other Woman

Preview - "The fuck was so great about Uruame anyway? Maybe it was her intelligence, maybe it was her athleticism. Or maybe, just maybe, it was her ability to interact with Sukuna without stumbling over every other word."

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, mention of violence (Sukuna will be Sukuna)

Word Count - 4.3k

It was April now. 

The season where girls compared prom dresses and guys anxiously put together their extravagant plans to ask the girl of their dreams to prom. It was the season that also revealed who was romantically interested in who — the couples that were thought to have been endgame break up juust before prom season, and if luck was truly a real thing, two people that nobody thought were romantically interested in the other were suddenly sucking face in the hallway.  

And even though you had been saying since the beginning of the school year that you likely were not going to attend prom … 

 … you found yourself standing in a dress shop with Nobara and Maki, both of whom were dressing you in flashy colors and, quite frankly, expensive dresses. 

“You’re kidding! Of course you’re going to prom, we’re not going without you,” Nobara comments, her tone offended as if you had told her that her shirt didn’t match her pants. Maki crosses her arms over her chest, agreeing wholeheartedly with the brunette at her side.  

“Come on Nobara, it’s not like it’s gonna be worth it. You both have dates,” you point out, taking a sip from your water bottle and sending both of your friends knowing looks.  

“And? You can go with Yuuji, you’ve both been conjoined at the hip since grade school,” Maki retaliates with a raise of her eyebrow. Nobara nods in agreement.  

“First of all, I’m not taking my guy best friend to prom. I don’t want people to get the wrong idea,” you begin, holding up your hand and using your fingers as an imaginary list. “And second, I kind of want someone to ask me that is … y’know … romantically interested in me.” 

Nobara claps her hands together as the curtain of your dressing room is yanked to the side, her smile widening impossibly further as she silently commands you to spin. You comply, turning in a circle in the royal blue dress that she had forced you into.  

“I don’t know,” you say for the umpteenth time. Nobara deflates in her seat, turning her head to Maki in the hopes that maybe she would say something to convince you. But the green-haired girl doesn’t say anything, because in a way she understands.  

“Come on (Y/N). Help us out here,” Nobara all but begs you, standing from her chair and walking over to you. She turns you in the direction of the full-body mirror in front of you, her hands affectionately squeezing her shoulders. “What color do you want to wear? Let’s start there.” 

“I don’t even want to go Nobara,” you retaliate, meeting her gaze in the mirror’s reflection. She sighs again, dramatically letting go of you and sulking once she returns to her seat.  

Maki rolls her eyes, finally walking over to you and glancing at you through the mirror. “Here, instead of color, who do you want to go to prom with?” 

You freeze, already feeling your cheeks heat as your eyes flicker to momentarily meet Maki’s in the reflection.  

“D’you think Sukuna is actually going to prom?” you ask Yuuji, stealing a chip from the bag that he holds and grinning to yourself as he silently shifts to ensure that you won’t steal another. He lifts his legs, crossing his ankles over one another as he hums in thought.  

“I think he might’ve mentioned it. But you know him,” Yuuji pauses to eat another chip, “he’s not really one for those kinds of parties, y’know?” 

You nod, but at the same time you can feel your heart sinking. Was it really a secret that you had a crush on the older brother of your childhood best friend? Honestly … no. But everyone but Sukuna knew (obviously), and yet nobody had really tried anything to help push you together.  

Maybe that was because of his reputation, or maybe it was because your friends were trying to “protect” you from someone that you really didn’t need to be shielded from.  

“Actually, now that you mention it,” Yuuji turns to you, crumpling up the now empty chip bag and tossing it into the garbage bin just a few feet in front of the two of you. “I think he mentioned asking Uruame to prom.” 

You fall silent, nodding your head. “Mm … right.” 

“I don’t know,” you answer again, shrugging your shoulders and already moving back towards the dressing room. You rip open the curtain, stepping inside and sighing. You lift your hands, rubbing them over your face as Yuuji’s words replay like a broken record in your head.  

The fuck was so great about Uruame anyway? 

Maybe it was her intelligence, maybe it was her athleticism. Or maybe, just maybe, it was her ability to interact with Sukuna without stumbling over every other word.  

You glance upward at the small mirror in the dressing room, already reaching behind you to unzip the dress. You step out of it, returning it to its hanger before emerging again from the dressing room. Nobara and Maki glance up at you, having expected you to be wearing another dress. 

“I think I’m done for today, if anything, I’ll just wear an old dress,” you say nonchalantly, trying to hide the waver that had started to creep into your tone. Maki nods understandingly, but Nobara rises to her feet and promptly places both hands on her hips.  

“(Y/N),” she says sternly, stomping over to you and grabbing both of your hands into her own. “We are going to find you a perfect fucking dress, you are going to have a perfect fucking time at prom, and we are going to all go together because fuck men.” 

Maki sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. "Nobara-" she begins, but her words are quickly cut off by a dismissive wave of Nobara's hand.  

"Now come on," Nobara places her palms flat against the backs of your shoulders, pushing you back towards the dressing room and turning to get the attention of the consultant who had been helping the three of you. "We're finding you a dress, and it's gonna be perfect." 

< ... > 

"Here brat, got you those fuckin' chips that you won't shut up about," Sukuna rolls his eyes as he closes the front door. He turns towards the couch, promptly throwing a bag of chips at Yuuji's face. You bite back the chuckle that claws up your throat as Yuuji yells out in surprise, pressing his palms against his face.  

"The hell?! Uncalled for!" Yuuji whips his head around to send a glare to his older brother, the latter of whom only shrugs before turning his attention to you.  

"Here, got you somethin' too," he says gruffly, clearing his throat as he rummages through the white plastic bag that he's slung over his arm. From it he removes a bag of candy that you had mentioned liking, which he hands to you. 

"Oh, thanks Sukuna!" You turn to smile at him as you take it, fingers momentarily brushing against his own. The contact brings a gentle pink hue to your cheeks, though his face remains stoic as ever – completely unreadable. As he usually was.  

Sukuna only grunts in response to your thanks, then turning on his heel and promptly vanishing into his room. You return your attention to the movie that Yuuji had put on, noticing him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. 

"What?" 

"Do you … shit (Y/N) … do you like my brother?"  

You cough, Yuuji's question catching you completely off of your guard. You whip your head to face him, cheeks heating at the knowing smile that your best friend wears. He abandons his chips, already rising to his feet.  

Shit. 

You spring up from your place on the couch, already diving for Yuuji. Your arms lock around his waist, knocking both him and yourself to the ground. "Don't you fucking dare." 

The pink-haired boy merely laughs in response, opening his mouth to yell. You yelp, pressing both of your palms against his lips and pressing down hard. He winces, but his eyes are still crinkled in that bright little shit-eating grin that continues to remind you just how fucked you were.  

You stare down at him, eyes as cold as ice. "Say a word and I'll kill you." 

Yuuji only rolls his eyes, but that shit-eating grin never once fades from his face.  

< ... > 

"See! I told you that we would find the perfect dress!" Nobara says proudly, hands on her hips as she admires you from behind. Her eyes meet yours in the reflection of your bedroom's mirror, lips turned upward in a smile.  

You had to admit, the dress was absolutely gorgeous. It was (Y/F/C) with gentle highlights and trimmings that fit around both your chest and waist. The center of the dress was corseted, accentuating your figure; and the train of the dress was long enough to flow behind you, but not long enough that you would trip over it.  

You turn your body around in the mirror, admiring the lace-up back of the dress. For the first time in a very long time, you felt pretty.  

"Alright, alright, fine. I'll admit … it is very pretty." You bite back a chuckle as Nobara claps her hands together, giddily turning to Maki and waiting for the green-haired girl to verbally approve as well.  

"You do look amazing (Y/N)," Maki nods in agreement, her compliment bringing a gentle smile to your face. Nobara nods her head frantically, turning back to you and grinning again as her eyes rake up and down your figure.  

The three of you pause at the sound of your front door opening and closing, followed then by your mother happily greeting whoever it was that had turned up on your doorstep. Nobara shoots you a confused look, one that you respond to with a confused look of your own.  

"(Y/N)! Yuuji's here!"  

You sigh, lifting your fingers to your nose and pinching at the bridge of your nose. You had completely forgotten that you had agreed to go to the arcade with Yuuji, and now here you were, standing in a prom dress even after you had told him countless times that you simply weren't going.  

Nobara and Maki exchange glances, but neither of them say anything to you or each other.  

"Okay! You can let him upstairs!"  

The sound of foosteps approaching your door already has your blood running cold, but the expression that Yuuji wears when he opens your bedroom door makes it somehow colder.  

"Oh wow (Y/N)! You look great! But I thought you said that you weren't coming to prom?" Yuuji points out, tilting his head curiously at you as he angles himself to close the door behind him. He glances then at both Nobara and Maki, neither girl answering him, leaving it completely up to you.  

You clear your throat, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another as you turn to face Yuuji completely. "Yeah … I know. Nobara kind of convinced me." 

"Well, that's good!" Yuuji smiles sweetly, already moving towards your desk chair and flopping down into it. "Are you going with anyone?" 

You remain silent – and that's when Nobara decides to step in, noticing the uncomfortable expression that you wear at Yuuji's question.  

"She's coming with me and Maki," she answers. You nod, clearing your throat as you turn to Yuuji, half-expecting him to furrow his eyebrows at you. But luckily, he smiles at Nobara's response, nodding his head and deciding not to breach the subject any further.  

< … > 

"There you are, where's the brat?" Sukuna asks as he approaches you, leaning against the locker beside your own. You chuckle lightly at him, tilting your head to glance up at him – oddly enough, he was already staring at you.  

"Yuuji? I think he's just finishing up with the Occult Club," you answer, removing your biology textbook from your locker before pushing the metal door shut. Sukuna hums, crossing his arms and tilting his head away from you.  

He looks like he wants to say something, but is conflicted on whether or not he should actually say it. You study him for a second, opening your mouth to say something.  

"There you both are! I'm ready to go home now," Yuuji says brightly, waving at both you and Sukuna from halfway down the hallway. He extends his hand to you, the both of you performing the handshake that you had perfected sometime during middle school. Sukuna rolls his eyes at the both of you, kicking off of the lockers and already swinging his keys on his index finger.  

"Took you long enough," Sukuna comments with a harsh roll of his eyes, though you don't fail to notice the small smirk that tugs at the corner of Sukuna's mouth. "C'mon, let's get out of here." 

Yuuji nods, linking his arm with your own and lightly tugging you towards the school's exit. He grins at you as you stumble on your feet, letting out a small "Yuuji!" at his antics. Sukuna only shakes his head, following behind the both of you – keeping his distance.  

"So, (Y/N), anyone asked you to prom yet?" Yuuji asks, his voice loud enough for Sukuna to hear behind him. You stand rigid in your best friend's hold, eyes flickering to his own. "Surely a girl like you got asked, right? With a big bouquet of flowers and--" 

"Yuuji, stop," you say harshly, voice venomous as you push yourself out of Yuuji's arms. He glances at you, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. He opens his mouth to say something, but you hold a hand up, effectively cutting him off.  

"I'm not going to prom with anyone because the person I wanted to go with is interested in someone else, okay? Is that what you wanted to fucking hear?" You lift a hand to wipe at your suddenly teary eyes, sighing to yourself and shaking your head.  

"(Y/N), that's not what I--" 

"Forget it. I'm just gonna take the bus home," you murmur to yourself, turning and walking straight past Sukuna, not even turning to apologize when your shoulder knocks against his own. His eyes follow you, narrowed in both confusion and irritation. Even so, he makes no move to follow you … 

… even though he so desperately wants to. 

< … > 

"I-it was so humiliating Nobara! Just … just imagine how disgusted he must be with me right now!" You throw your hands up as you continue pacing, talking through your tears as best that you can. Though it proves to be a struggle, you manage to get your point across and speak for long enough before you dissolve into tears again.  

Nobara's eyes soften, gaze flickering momentarily to Maki, who only wears an expression similar to the former's. She stands, opening her arms to you. They lock around you as you all but fall into them, clawing at her back and pressing your face into her shoulder, crying quietly into the fabric of her shirt.  

"He's not disgusted with you," Nobara begins, but you're quick to cut her off, only crying more. Her hand smooths up and down the length of your spine, her gaze once again flickering to Maki in the hopes that maybe she would say something … anything … to comfort you.  

But just like Nobara, Maki is at a loss for words, sitting quietly on your bed and watching you promptly break down in the expanse of Nobara’s arms.  

“He is! He has to be, c’mon, I totally just — just left him there!” The grip you have over Nobara’s shoulders tighten, holding her impossibly tighter as you try to comfort yourself in her arms. The attempt is futile, and in reality, it only makes you feel worse.  

“I’m sure that he understands.” 

“It’s Sukuna, Maki!” You pry yourself from Nobara’s arms, swallowing the growing lump in your throat and angrily swiping at the tears that cling to your waterline. You sigh, allowing your head to fall into the palms of your hands, nails digging into the sides of your head.  

“Come on (Y/N),” Maki says gently, moving towards you and placing a hand on your shoulder. Her fingers squeeze at you comfortingly, a small smile curling her lips upward as you finally turn your head to make eye contact with her. “It’s a simple misunderstanding, I don’t think that Sukuna is going to automatically hate you because of it.”  

You sigh shakily, allowing her to gently guide you to the edge of your bed. She pushes onto your shoulders, then sitting down beside you while Nobara sits in your desk chair — which she had pulled up to the side of the bed so that she could sit directly in front of you.  

“Prom is tomorrow,” you murmur, sighing again a rubbing a hand down your face. Nobara and Maki exchange solemn looks, but neither of them say anything to one another. “And I just … maybe I shouldn’t go.” 

Nobara immediately shakes her head, nearly stumbling from her seat from the force at which she leans back. Maki instinctively reaches for her, hands ready to brace the brunette if she were to fall.  

“What?! After everything that we did? We got a dress, we went out and bought makeup, and we even rented a limo with everyone else!” Nobara says sharply, though her voice doesn’t hold any of the malice that you had expected it too. You knew what she was trying to do anyway, convince you by slightly guilting you into thinking that by you not being there, prom night would essentially be ruined.  

You sniffle, rubbing a hand against your tear-stained cheeks. Maki reaches out, rubbing a hand against your back. Of course, she wants you to go to prom as well, but unlike Nobara, she wouldn’t sit there and guilt trip you into going. If you didn’t want to go, then it was as simple as that, you didn’t want to go.  

“I-I know that, but Nobara—“ 

“Stop.” Nobara stands then, her hands on either side of your face and squishing your cheeks together. “We’re going to prom together, and that’s that. Got it?” 

You sigh, blinking back the last bits of tears that cling to your lashes. And against your better judgement, even though you so desperately want to stay home all day tomorrow and rot …  

 … you nod against the skin of Nobara’s palms.  

< … > 

"(Y/N)! Guys!" Yuuji waves wildly from the front entrance of the school's gymnasium, lips turned upward in a wide grin as you, Nobara, and Maki approach. Standing beside Yuuji is Sukuna – who looks as though the only thing he craves at that moment is going home and vanishing for the weekend. 

Uruame wasn't with him though … maybe she just hadn't arrived yet. 

Nobara smiles as you all approach Yuuji, accepting his fist-bump. You turn to him as well, extending your hand at the same moment he does, the both of you performing that oh-so-elaborate handshake.  

“You look nice,” Yuuji says to you, smiling. You return his smile, turning on your heel and marveling as your dress’ train lifts from the ground, creating a small circle around you as you turn. Yuuji turns then to Sukuna, whose eyes dart away as if he had been caught looking at something that he shouldn’t have been.  

“Yeah … nice,” Sukuna murmurs underneath his breath. His comment brings a gentle pink hue to your cheeks, and in thanks, you nod your head at him.  

“C’mon, let’s go inside!” Nobara says happily, her lips tuned upward in a smile as she reaches for your hands, tugging you towards the entrance of the gymnasium. You glance fleetingly at Sukuna, whose eyes are still fixed on anything but you — you wonder what color Uruame would wear. 

Would she match him? Or would she wear a different color that complimented the one he wore? 

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to reality as you allow Nobara to tug you towards the doors, her lips still turned upward in a delighted smile as she and Maki already begin nodding their heads in tune with the loud music that blares from inside of the gymnasium.  

“Hey, (Y/N).”  

You turn, eyebrows raised as you notice Sukuna looking at you, his body angled so that he faces you. His fingers twitch slightly, debating on whether or not they should reach out for you.  

“Yeah?” 

“Can I talk to you? Jus’ for a second,” Sukuna responds gruffly, clearing his throat and hoping that the dimly lit sky was enough to hide the pink color that dusted his cheeks.  

Nobara, Maki, and Yuuji all exchange knowing looks, their lips all turning upwards into Cheshire-cat-like smiles. None of them say a single word as they slip through the gymnasium’s open doors, leaving both you and Sukuna at the entrance.   

“Everything okay?” you ask, tilting your head at Sukuna. He swallows, shoulders tensing and hands curling into white-knuckled fists. His nails, which had always been long, are no doubt leaving behind crescent-shaped marks on the skin of his palm — what the hell had him so nervous? 

He hesitates, eyes flickering momentarily to you before they look away again. “Everything’s,” he clears his throat, “everything’s fine.” 

You furrow your eyebrows together, not quite believing him. You lift your arms to cross them over your chest, shifting on your foot before finally noticing a tuft of white hair in the distance. You open your mouth to comment, but something stops you.  

“So … where’s Uruame?” you settle for asking, glancing up at him and teasingly wiggling your eyebrows at him. He turns to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  

“The fuck are you talking about?” 

“Uruame. You’re waiting out here for her aren’t you? Don’t tell me you’re gonna make her walk into prom all by herself,” you turn on your heel to chastise him, pointing a finger at his chest. The crease between his eyebrows only deepens as you continue — which you take as a sign to promptly shut up.  

The two of you stand in awkward silence for a moment, both of you turned away from the other in fear of what expression the other wore.  

“Uruame’s not comin’ to prom,” Sukuna murmurs with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “Said she wasn’t the biggest fan of parties, not that I blame ‘er.” 

“Oh.” 

Again, neither of you say anything to the other. You can feel your cheeks burning, and in the hopes that he wouldn’t say anything, you lift your hands to your face, covering it. He tilts his head, sighing with the smallest of smirks plastered onto his face.  

“Lemme guess,” he turns to you, regaining his confidence and bending just enough so that his nose is level with your own. Your eyes widen, the pink color on your cheeks deepening at the sudden closeness. “You thought I was takin’ Uruame to prom, didn’t you?” 

“N-no,” you reply quickly, your voice a high-pitched squeak. Sukuna chuckles, shifting back on his feet and crossing his arms over his chest, staring down his nose at you. “Okay, maybe.” 

The taller man turns, leaning against the wall of the gymnasium and glancing at you through the corner of his eye. You shuffle on your feet, not daring to look up at Sukuna.  

“That why you kept tellin’ Yuuji that you weren’t comin’ to prom?” he asks, grinning as he glances at you. “‘Cause you thought I was goin’ with Uruame?” 

You remain silent — now suddenly embarrassed over your childlike reaction. To be honest, it had been petty for you to potentially throw away the entirety of your prom night over something as trivial as not having a date. But at the same time, your friends had been asked to prom by the people that they were romantically interested in — hell, even Yuuji had managed to successfully ask Megumi to prom. And that was after he had smacked himself in the face in front of his bathroom mirror.  

Sukuna chuckles, leaning his head back and crossing his arms over his chest. His fingers drum against his clothed bicep, a delighted hum rumbling up somewhere in his throat as he relishes in your reactions. He clears his throat, catching your attention. 

“Stupid,” he murmurs, reaching a hand out and laying it over the top of your head. You huff at him, smoothing your hands over your hair, hoping that all of the styling that you had done wasn’t ruined by Sukuna’s comically large palm.  

“And that makes me stupid because?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at Sukuna. He rolls his eyes, once again leaning down to be at eye-level with you again. This time, however, you challenge his stare with one of your own — pointed and cold, though not nearly as cold as the glare situated in front of you.  

“It makes you stupid because you actually thought I’d take someone other than you to prom.” 

His words make you positively flush from head to toe. You stand as still as stone in front of him, inhaling sharply as he adjusts himself again. He offers his arm to you, nodding in the direction of the opened gymnasium doors.  

“So then why didn’t you ask me sooner?”  

Sukuna rolls his eyes, sighing. “I’m not good at that kind of stuff, but trust me, you’re the only girl that I’d have ever even considered to take to this fuckin’ thing.” 

You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you slip your arm into Sukuna’s. His chest swells at the smile that you flash at him, and in a moment of bravery, he leans down to press his lips to your own.  

Thank God that you had decided to go to prom. 

Just thinking about Astarion as a personification of the trope "unamused until my S/O walks into the room."

Just imagine it.

Karlach had practically insisted that the group rest at a nearby tavern following a successful battle against a particularly nasty band of goblins. Nobody dared protest with her, not when you smiled and nodded happily along with her idea.

That led you and the rest of your companions to a small, rundown tavern on the outskirts of the town you had visited.

To be fair, Astarion had never been a fan of spending time in crowded places -- that much had been evident from the very start. You had always noticed that on the nights where you and the others gathered around the camp's fire Astarion would retire for the night.

You never pushed him, and for that he was grateful. And after all, he would have you to himself soon enough. You always sought him out after spending time with the others, ready to sleep curled up against his side and whisper to him underneath the moon's glow.

But this time was different, now he was surrounded by lowly creatures that he couldn't be paid to interact with. They danced happily and drank with one another, their happiness only adding to Astarion's very visible frustration.

He stands off to the side, his arms crossed firmly over his chest while his hardened scarlet eyes roam over the tavern's patrons. Shadowheart, Gale, and Lae'zel seem to be enjoying themselves, drinking happily and engaging in pleasent conversation. Karlach is most definitely enjoying herself, indulging in the tavern's ale and laughing heartily.

Astarion's ears perk at the sweet sound of your laughter, his eyes flickering to you. You were talking with the tavern's bartender, lips curled upward at something she had said to you.

The sight is almost instant; Astarion's eyes soften, the crease in between his brows vanishes, and the scowl on his lips is replaced by a gentle smile. He leans a bit more comfortably against the tavern's wall, attention focused on you.

He may despise going on, but to see you smiling and happy? Maybe going out wasn't so bad after all.

Can you write one where Astarion realizes that Tav is acting strangely because it's actually Orin and the actual Tav is kidnapped by her?? Thank you so much and I love your work!!

A/N - Oh my god I absolutely adore the trope of kidnapped lover being rescued (the parasites in me crave the angst). I hope you like this, I had a lot of fun writing it! So thank you @fanficlov-3-r <3

I Know You

Preview - "And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, '(Y/N) isn't amongst us.'"

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, canon BG3 violence

Word Count - 3.9k

Astarion prided himself on his ability to have memorized everything about you, from how your nose scrunched when you saw something you disliked to how your eyes sparkled when you noticed him staring at you from across the fire. It was those little things that simply made you … well … you. 

Which was why he found it very offputting when he noticed your excessive alcohol intake while attending a Tiefling party. Yes, you liked to indulge in a glass of wine or two while you chatted happily with Astarion or any of your other companions – but never had he seen you cradle an entire bottle of wine to yourself and drink it in its entirety. 

But that behavior was only one of multiple that he had noticed throughout the night; you were dancing with any Tiefling who offered their hand, you seemed to stray away from him and the others throughout the night, and the smile you wore did not reach your eyes in the slightest. It seemed fake, similar to the smiles that Astarion had once flashed at you to get your clothes off. 

“Is it just me or does (Y/N) seem a little … off?” Shadowheart comments, her eyebrow raising as she watches you indulge another Tiefling in a drunken dance. You stumble over both your feet and his own, a detail that both she and Astarion narrow their eyes at. 

For an oh-so-grateful leader, you were being careless tonight. 

Astarion’s eyes follow those of Shadowheart’s, landing on you just as you are finishing a dance with your fifth Tiefling of the night. He bows to you shakily, and in return, you curtsy – another move that Astarion had never thought he would see you perform. 

“I must say that I agree with Shadowheart. Excuse me for a moment,” Astarion abandons his half-empty wine glass, sliding it across the bar. The bartender raises a brow at Astarion, but says nothing. 

You chuckle heartily as a Tiefling female approaches you, in her hands a sparkling glass of champagne. You take it from her the moment it’s offered, just about to bring it to your lips before a pale hand clasps over your shoulder. 

“Ah-ah darling, I think that’s enough with the drinking for one night,” Astarion says with a fanged smile, angling himself so that he’s able to pluck the champagne glass from your hands quickly. You turn to him, eyebrows pinched together in an expression that mixes frustration and shock – as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t. 

“Come off Astarion, I can indulge if I so choose,” you retort quickly, fingers extending towards your glass. Astarion lifts his arm, the glass just barely out of your reach. “You are indulging tonight, are you not?”

He chuckles, his chest rumbling against your shoulder as his scarlet eyes rake over your figure. Something was wrong, it wasn’t just your general composure – it was everything down to the very way that you stood on your own two feet. 

“While that is true, I am watching what I indulge in,” Astarion says, already glancing at Shadowheart, who nods knowingly. She mumbles something inaudibly then to Gale, and soon a secret message is relayed over all of your companions. 

The Tiefling female had long since left your side, only adding to your annoyance that Astarion had come to your side. You turn sharply to face him, eyes narrowing at him. 

“And just explain to me why you thought it necessary to disrupt my fun?” you snap, glaring daggers into the vampire who stands in front of you. Astarion merely sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. His eyes flicker over you again, and it is in that moment that he realizes something … you were most certainly not you. 

And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, “(Y/N) isn’t amongst us.” 

“Because I know you (Y/N), and right now,” Astarion pauses only to yank you closer, lowering his lips to your ear. “You are not who you say that you are.”

You freeze in his arms, eyes flickering to look at him. The crease in your eyebrows vanishes, your expression of frustration replaced now by one of shock. “What are you on about?”

“Oh come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” Astarion growls, his grip over your wrist tightening, “I know (Y/N), and she would never indulge in such things of her own accord.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, not protesting as a very angered Astarion drags you out of the Tiefling party. He is quickly flanked by Shadowheart and the others, none of whom offer you looks of sympathy – if anything, they look just as angered as the vampire in front of you. 

The moment that your feet touch camp, your wrists and ankles are promptly tied by Karlach, who offers you no answers even as you demand to know what in the hells is going on. Astarion stands quietly at her side, his arms folded over his chest whilst his mind promptly races.

Where were you? Who was sitting in your place? Where the hells were you?

With a singular wave of his hand over your body, Gale reveals Orin to the others, then steps back and glares down his nose at her. In response, her lips only turn upward in a grin, one that sends a shiver down the spines of those that surround her. 

“Where is–”

“Oh please, save me the dramatics,” Orin says with a roll of her eyes, adjusting herself so that she sits comfortably. Her attention moves to Astarion, her smile widening at the sight of the expression that he wears. 

“You have five minutes to answer our questions before–”

Orin’s head tilts in Lae’zel’s direction, her eyes crinkling as her smile widens impossibly further. Her lips part, a delighted chuckle falling from her lips. “Before what? You kill me? If I die, (Y/N)’s location dies with me.”

In a flash of white and silver, the blade of a dagger is pressed against the skin of Orin’s neck, pressed down just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. Astarion kneels in front of Orin, narrowed eyes glaring daggers into her as his lips pull back in an angered growl. 

“You will reveal (Y/N)’s location lest you want to end up a paled mess on the ground.” He was shocked by how much your disappearance had affected him – especially considering that he was supposed to be keeping his affection for you a secret from the others. 

There was a reason behind his secrecy, however, a reason that you had agreed with when he had first proposed the idea to you. It was for your safety, for your protection. But it seemed like even with that … he still couldn’t keep the one thing that kept him sane safe. 

Orin chuckles, leaning forward so that her nose just barely grazes his own. He can feel her breath as it fans over his face – it disgusts him. 

“Is that so?” Her head tilts, another delighted chuckle bubbling up her throat and spilling over her lips. Astarion pushes the blade further against her, ignoring the yells of warning delivered by the other members of the party. 

His eyes narrow, his eyebrows pinch together, and his expression hardens. Orin only chuckles again, sighing dreamily in a way that reminds Astarion of a hopelessly lovesick girl. Gods, what he would give to plunge the blade of his dagger into her neck. 

“Fine, but I hope you know I’m not yielding because of your … intimidation,” Orin murmurs, pouting childishly as Astarion pulls her to her feet, still glaring at her. He says nothing as he drags her past the others, not checking over his shoulder to see that the others have followed him.

< … >

Another chilled shiver runs up the length of your spine, using your vertebrae as a ladder. You turn uncomfortably onto your side, trying once again to tug your ankles from their shackles. All you’re met with is the sound of rattling metal. 

It had been a few hours … or perhaps even a few days since you last saw the others. You didn’t know – perhaps time worked differently when you were captured. 

The last you remembered, you were walking silently along a forest pathway with Astarion a few feet behind you. You were engrossed in the beauty of the willow trees that hung silently over you, their branches serving you the beautiful luxury of shade that covered you from the sun’s blaring rays. 

Just as you turned a corner in the forest, a cold hand that wasn’t Astarion’s clasped over your own, tugging you away into a forest patch. One good knock to the side of the head … and that was the last that you were able to clearly remember. 

When you awoke, your ankles were shackled to a wall and your wrists were bound with rope, rubbing uncomfortably against your skin and leaving behind angry red marks. 

Your body had been littered with marks; cuts, bruises, and gashes. At first, they hadn’t hurt you at all – but you blamed that entirely on your adrenaline. Now every cut burned, every bruise ached, and every gash felt as though it would never stop bleeding. 

Surely every vampiric creature within a 50-mile radius could smell your blood … especially considering how much of it lay in a disgusting puddle surrounding your body. 

A shaky breath escapes you, one that you surely hoped would be your last. Your teary eyes flicker around the cell that you’d been thrown into; the cell that lacked even so much as a window. You were completely disconnected from the outside world, and for a singular moment, you thought that maybe you had died. 

And maybe you were okay with that now … with dying. 

Even though for so long you had tried your hardest to protect everyone – practically throwing your life down on the line for the lives of your companions – being captured was making you realize something. 

Maybe they didn’t care about you nearly as much as you cared about them.

If they cared, they would be searching for you. If they cared, you wouldn’t be bleeding out in some dank old cell with no way to know what time of day it was. If they cared … they would prove it, wouldn’t they?

A choked sob claws its way up your throat, legs curling inward. You wrap your arms around them, hugging them against your chest as your body curls inward into a fetal position. 

They didn’t care. Not Gale, not Karlach, not Lae’zel, not Shadowheart. 

Not even Astarion.

Astarion …

After everything that you had done for him. You had spared him that morning while walking with Shadowheart. You had let him stay in your camp even though he spat venomous insults each time you interacted politely with him. Hells, you had even let the damn man feed on you. 

In exchange for your blood, he was letting you rot alone in a cell. 

So much for helping others, you think quietly to yourself, tears slipping down your cheeks as your lashes flutter shut. A gentle numbness spreads over you as if someone had draped a blanket over you. It felt nice. It felt safe. 

Your shoulders relax, your lips part. 

One gentle breath falls from your lips before all goes silent.

< … >

“Come on now, I’ve led you right to where she is! The least you can do is entertain a conversation,” Orin complains loudly, huffing childishly as Astarion continues shoving her forward. 

There was no lie to her words, she had led Astarion and the others to where she had thrown you – a dimly lit dungeon hallway that was only filled with the sounds of low groans and dripping water, but even those had become scarce the longer that they walked. 

“The only thing I’ll entertain is your demise,” Astarion bites out, though he desperately wishes that he had kept his mouth shut. Orin doesn’t fail to catch the tremble in his voice – the vulnerability that seeps from his words. 

Her lips curl, another delighted chuckle rumbling somewhere deep inside of her chest. Her eyes flicker to catch a glimpse of Astarion’s profile, her chuckle deepening as she notices the emotional turmoil sketched into his features. 

“I wonder what you will do to me when you realize that she’s–”

“Hush,” Astarion hisses, reaching down and yanking the bonds around Orin’s wrist. The rub of the rope against her skin is enough to silence her. “Not another word out of you, wench.”

Orin stifles the small whimper of pain that had threatened to fall from her lips, instead turning to the cell that they were nearing; your cell. 

At the sight of the metal bars and uneven stones, she giggles. Astarion passes her off to Shadowheart, ignoring the cleric’s protests as he approaches the cell. 

“Oh shit.”

The world seems to go completely silent at the sight that lies before Astarion’s eyes, a sight that he immediately wishes that he could forget. 

You lay on your side with your back facing the cell’s door, blood – your blood – surrounding you in a crimson puddle. The bits of skin that Astarion can see are littered with cuts and bruises, your legs covered in gashes that continue to drip with fresh blood. 

In any other situation, Astarion would have marveled at both the sight and smell of your blood … perhaps even allowed himself to indulge in it. 

But now?

Gods, he had never been more disgusted by any one sight or smell. 

“Astarion? What’s – oh my Gods,” Karlach raises a hand to her mouth, palm covering her lips as she gazes upon the same sight as Astarion. The others join her, and each of them falls silent. “You take … her … and get out of here.”

Shadowheart nods, shooting Orin a sharpened glare before tugging the shapeshifter back down the way that they had come, ignoring her yells of protests and the way that she struggles against the ropes that bind her wrists together. 

With one tug at the already worn-down metal, Karlach disconnects the bars of the cell. She steps inside, carefully approaching you before copying her previous actions and removing the shackles from around your ankles. 

“(Y/N)?” she murmurs down to you, lightly shaking your shoulder while simultaneously trying to be sure that she does not burn you – the last she wants is to add to your injuries. 

She’s pushed aside by Astarion, who kneels beside you and feels his breath hitch at the sight of your paled face. Your cheeks have lost their usual rosy color, replaced instead by a white that looked as though it could rival the color of his hair. 

“Shit,” is the only thing that he’s able to say properly before he scoops you into his arms. He shakes on his feet for a moment, the sudden weight in his arms debilitating his balance. He says nothing as he strides past the others, making a beeline for the exit.

< … >

The first thing that you feel is a dull ache, then followed by a wave of pain that has you shooting upright and promptly vomiting onto whatever surface happens to be beside you. The moment you’ve finished emptying your stomach, a piece of cloth is offered to you by a pale hand – a familiar one this time. 

Hesitantly, you take it, dabbing the cloth against your mouth before looking up to who had handed it to you. 

“Astarion?”

“That would be my name, yes darling,” Astarion responds, though his tone doesn’t hold his usual flirtatious lilt that you had grown so used to. No, he sounds exhausted … it made you wonder just how long he had sat at your bedside. 

Your eyes roam over him, taking note of the tiny, barely-there bags that rest beneath his eyes. For a man who cared so deeply about appearance, he surely looked as though he had let himself go … likely because of you.

As much as you wish to take him into your arms and comfort you, a fleeting thought passes through your mind — he had taken his sweet time in finding you. 

If the roles had been reversed, and it had been Astarion who was taken from you, you already knew that you would have searched Heaven and Earth trying to find him. No stone would have been left unturned, no witness left unspoken to … you would have stopped at nothing. 

But it felt as though Astarion hadn’t cared enough, if he had, you wouldn’t have been as badly wounded as you were. You wouldn’t have laid in that cell for as long as you have, not that you knew the length of time in which you had been missing anyway. 

Astarion’s head lifts at the sound of you rustling, body scooting back from him until your spine rests against the headboard of your bed. You lift your knees to your chest, hugging around them. 

“Darling?”

You remain silent, but you allow your eyes to raise to meet his awaiting gaze. He waits patiently, though you can’t help but feel as though he’s analyzing you.

“How long have I been gone?” you ask. Astarion pauses, scarlet eyes flickering away from you. He swallows, you can see the emotional turmoil that swims in his eyes. Answer me, you usher in your mind. 

“Orin wouldn’t tell us,” Astarion answers honestly, voice wavering as he recounts his angered questioning of the shapeshifter. She had only giggled in his presence and “answered” his question with another question of her own. 

You remain silent, nodding to yourself as you glance down at the bandages that adorn your arms and legs. It makes you wonder if Astarion had patched you himself … or perhaps he had made one of your other companions do it. 

You lift your head, noticing now that Astarion’s attention was focused elsewhere. His expression looks identical to your own — caught in his own mind. Guilt. 

Did he feel guilty?

“Does anything—“ he pauses to clear his throat, “—anything hurt you?”

”Just my arms and legs,” you answer. Astarion nods, inhaling deeply and shifting in his chair. For some twisted reason, you want him to stand up and leave. Maybe it was to further prove your point, or maybe you just wanted to be alone. 

You’d never really know the true answer. 

He hums, nodding to himself before he shifts again. For a fleeting moment, he debates on whether or not he should stand and exit — it was clear that you wanted your space anyway. 

Astarion knew you … and he knew that right now, you certainly didn’t want him around. Never were you short with him, but your tone insinuated that you wanted nothing to do with him. 

Not that he could honestly blame you. 

And so, he stands from his chair. You don’t lift your head to look at him again … telling. 

“Why did you take so long to come for me?”

He freezes, feeling as though someone had doused him in freezing water. His back stands rigid; you could see the way that his spine visibly tenses the moment that his mind processes what it was that you had asked him. 

You snap your jaw shut the moment that the words fall from your lips, regret filling your senses. Sheepishly, you look down, staring at your lap and screwing your eyes shut. 

You freeze at the feeling of arms wrapping over your shoulders, tugging you against a chest that you had spent many nights resting against. His skin felt cold against yours, a welcome contrast to the heat that was currently making you very uncomfortable. 

Astarion’s cheek rests against the side of your head, his hands squeezing at your waist while also being mindful of the injuries that you had sustained. He sighs shakily into your hair, feeling himself relax as he feels you reciprocate his embrace. 

“The moment that I realized that I was not interacting with you, I went out to find you,” Astarion confesses, holding you tighter as he recounts the fear in the moment when he realized that you were not you. 

You remain silent, simply soaking up the comfort that Astarion’s arms provides you with. Your head rests comfortably in the junction that connects his neck and his shoulder, nose buried into his neck. 

“You have … absolutely no idea how frightened I was,” he whispers, his voice so low that it even the rustle of the blankets overpowered his words. His arms shake where they rest around your waist, his fingernails just barely digging into the exposed skin of your waist. “The prospect of losing you–”

“Astarion.”

He pauses, feeling you shift in his arms. Without any word of protest, he releases you, settling onto his knees on the bed in front of you. You adjust yourself, then reach out to take his hands into your own. 

Astarion flinches. You pause, waiting for him to say something to you. He doesn’t, and so you take it as an okay to continue. Your fingers squeeze his own, the action directing his eyes to your own. 

You stay silent for a second or two, simply taking in the way that Astarion’s eyes soften at you. His usually sharp scarlet eyes are glazed over now with a new emotion – guilt. Guilt over not being there for you, guilt over not saving you sooner …

… guilt that you had gotten hurt. 

“Darling, if I had the chance to save you sooner, know that I would have taken it without a second of hesitation,” Astarion admits, shifting an inch closer to you. You feel the tears building along your waterline, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you attempt to suppress the sobs that begin to bubble up somewhere in your chest. 

One of his hands releases yours, hesitantly laying against your face. He thumbs away the tears in your eyes, sighing as you crumple and reach for him again. Astarion doesn’t waste a single second, wrapping you in his arms and resting his chin against the top of your head. 

“I thought that,” you hiccup, “you and the others had forgotten about me.”

His arms tighten around you at that declaration, chest promptly collapsing it on itself as he realizes just how scared you had been. He doesn’t want to imagine what you must have been thinking in that cell, likely thinking about if you would ever be saved.

If he would ever come for you.

“Never,” he whispers into your hair, fingers stroking comforting circles into the small of your back. “I would never forget you, ever.”

“You are the first thing in my entire life that makes me feel … feel something. Something other than burning hatred. You make this wretched world worth living in.”

You squeeze at him, hands bunching up his shirt from behind. He doesn’t bring attention to it, letting you cling to him with as much force as you need. 

“And I’m not going to let you go. Not now, not ever,” he promises you. You close your eyes, sighing shakily through your nose. He can feel your nod against his chest, his cheek leaning further into your hair. 

And that night, when the glistening moon hung over your tent and signaled to your companions that it was time to rest, Astarion remained at your side – fulfilling his promise.

He wasn’t going to let you feel that scared again. Not now, not ever.

Can I request a fic where someone else confesses to reader infront of Megumi? How would he react thank you!

Sypnosis - A student from Kyoto is a little too bold ... but who is Megumi to say anything without accidentally revealing that he likes you?

Warning(s) - None.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

God … he hated Valentine's Day.  

But not for the cynical reasons that everyone else seemed to despise Valentine's Day for – no, his loathing for the holiday stemmed mostly from his frustration with himself.  

His frustration over not being able to say something … anything … to you. Every time that he thought about it, about confessing to you or saying anything to you about his feelings, it felt like someone had lodged something in his throat. It felt like someone had stolen his ability to speak, locking it away in a tiny metal cage and swallowing the key for its lock. 

And it wasn't like Yuuji or Nobara made the situation any better. If anything, they only added fuel to the flame – constantly teasing the poor boy any time that you were in his vicinity. Megumi would have to bite back his growing scowl whenever you approached; knowing that Yuuji and Nobara would smirk at one another and embarrass him in one way or another.  

Thank God that you never really noticed … unless you did. Maybe you were just being nice in order to not add to an already bad enough situation (you genuinely had no idea what was going on, Megumi would later find out).  

"C'mon Fushiguro, get her something nice and tell her!" Yuuji had told him first thing that morning, leaning against the open doorframe of his dormitory and smiling widely. Megumi bit back his urge to roll his eyes.  

"Here, I'll give you everything. All you need to do is speak, yeah?" Nobara had said when he and Yuuji joined her in the school's courtyard. Again, Megumi had bitten back the urge to roll his eyes towards his skull.  

It wasn't that he didn't want to tell you, it was just that he had absolutely no idea of how he would be able to stomach your rejection when it inevitably hit him.  

"Fushiguro! There you are!"  

His head turns at the sound of your voice, the scowl on his face fading almost immediately upon seeing you make your way over to him. You lift your hand in a friendly wave, one that he doesn't hesitate to return.  

Yuuji and Nobara exchange knowing looks as you wave to them as well, eyebrows momentarily furrowing together at the snicker that Yuuji hides behind his hand. Even Nobara's smile seems forced, but once again, you don't draw any attention to it.  

"Hey (Y/N)," Megumi says with a polite bow of his head, feeling his chest swell at the smile that you flash in his direction. "Gojo didn't send you on a mission today?" 

"Nope! I think he was more heartbroken at the fact that Nanami didn't get him any flowers for Valentine's Day," you reply with a dismissive wave of your hand. Yuuji laughs heartily at that, but his laughter is quieted immediately by Nobara smacking her palm against his mouth.  

Your eyes flicker to watch as Nobara smiles at you, her eyes closing as she slowly begins to drag the pink-haired boy back into the school. 

That leaves you and Megumi alone.  

"Oh, I wanted to ask you--" 

"(Y/N)!"  

You lift your head at someone calling out your name, smiling as a visiting second-year from the Kyoto school walks over, his hands closed around a comically large bouquet of vibrant red roses. He smiles at you once he's standing in front of you, not noticing the confused look on your face … or the deepened scowl that had settled over Megumi's features.  

"Oh … hello," you say, mustering the politest smile that you could without looking as though you wanted to shove the Kyoto student away. He returns your smile, then shifting the bouquet of flowers forward, silently urging you to take them.  

Megumi can feel his heart sink to the depths of his stomach as you take the roses, holding them against your chest to ensure that none of them would fall. You nod your head at the Kyoto student, already feeling an uncomfortable sensation beginning to bubble in your stomach.  

"Here, this is for you as well!" Suddenly, a white envelope with a bright red heart scrawled into it is shoved into your free hand. The Kyoto student only smiles wider, watching you through glistening eyes as you chuckle – a chuckle that Megumi immediately pegs as you being uncomfortable.  

"Thank you, you're too kind," you reply, still chuckling even as you shift to stow the unopened letter into the pocket of your uniform. The Kyoto student opens his mouth to speak, but his words die on the tip of his tongue at the glare that Megumi shoots in his direction.  

"N-no problem," the Kyoto student mumbles out, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as his gaze flickers between an uncomfortable you and an irate Megumi – whose glare looks as though it could light blazing fires.  

And without uttering another word to you, the Kyoto student scurries away. 

You turn to Megumi, finally noticing the frown that had settled on his face. "Fushiguro? Everything okay?" 

He shakes his head, bringing himself back to reality as he turns his head to catch your awaiting gaze. His eyes dart between you and the flowers that you hold, though he doesn't dare to say anything regarding the roses that are borderline falling from your arms.  

"Fine," he answers coldly, lifting his arms to cross them over his chest. You furrow your eyebrows for a moment, then a knowing smile curls the corners of your mouth upward.  

"You know, I was hoping to get flowers from someone else today," you say with a little shrug of your shoulders, already bending to place down the bouquet of roses. Megumi's eyebrow perks, eyes following you as you fold your hands behind your back and cheekily smile at him.  

Megumi's frown only seems to deepen at your words, the letter he had written for you suddenly feeling as heavy as stones where it sat in his jacket pocket. 

"Yeah? Who?" Megumi dares to ask, feeling his anger double at the sight of your smile widening.  

You giggle, already reaching into your pocket for something – removing a small black box with the letter 'M' engraved into its thick fabric. He stills, staring down at it, puzzled.  

Hesitantly, Megumi reaches out, taking the box from you and opening it. Inside is a silver ring, and turning it over reveals a little message engraved into the silver.  

Megumi <3 

His cheeks immediately flush a bright shade of red, the tips of his ears burning as his gaze returns to you. Your lips are turned upward in a smile, this one soft and gentle – the one that crinkles the corners of your eyes and makes your smile lines stand out.  

"Do you like it?" Megumi flushes again at the sound of your breathy chuckle. It was cute to you, how he was admiring the ring while simultaneously trying to catch your gaze.  

His fingers snap the box shut, arms lifting to wrap themselves around you. You let out a shocked yelp as you're tugged against Megumi's chest, his face hiding itself into your hair as he squeezes at you with a strength you had no idea he possessed.  

You chuckle after a moment, finally lifting your arms to return his embrace. He relaxes upon feeling you around him, closing his eyes and simply savoring the feeling of you.  

"I like you too, by the way," you whisper into his ear, smiling as he pulls back just enough to glance at you. His face reddens impossibly further, but he finds himself smiling nonetheless.  

Maybe Valentine's Day wasn't that bad after all.