Here's A Little Nanami Snippet To Munch On While I Write A Much Bigger Piece.

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.  

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.

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!!

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

Oops .. sorry!

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

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

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.