Just Saw Kraven Today,

Hi! I would love to request something for Aemond x fem or gn reader. I was thinking reader saying prompt. 15 from your general list “I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too."

Maybe one day he wakes up with bad pain in the eye and he doesn’t feel like calling the maester so they help him, they remove his eyepatch and apply his ointment for him. And he feels extremely insecure because it’s the first they saw him without the eyepatch but they reassure him. I need that man to cry in my arms as I tell him he’s beautiful (I know it may sound ooc but he’s my babygirl)

15. ''I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too.''

The gif from the trailer fits perfectly this request

Warnings: mention of past injuries (eye)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You returned to your chambers after spending the morning embroidering with Helaena to find Aemond still in bed. A frown drew between your eyebrows. At this hour, he was either training with Ser Criston or attending the small council meeting.

‘’Aemond?’’ Your soft voice cut through the silence of the room, waking your husband’s attention.

He shifted under the covers, his single eye fluttering open. ‘’Could you tell Cole I will not be training with him today?’’

You walked over to the bed, taking a closer look at him. ‘’Are you well?’’ You touched his forehead with the back of your hand, checking for a fever.

‘’It’s just…my eye. It gets irritated sometimes.’’ Aemond avoided your gaze, not wanting to see the familiar look of pity that he had grown all too used to seeing in the eyes of others. ‘’Would you want me to fetch the maester? He should have something to sooth your pain,’’ you offered, concern etched on your face.

‘’No need for the maester.’’ He gently caught your hand in his own, stopping you from rising. ‘’I already have a salve Maester Orwyle gave to me. It’s on the table, over there.’’

Aemond let go of your hand, allowing you to stand and retrieve the salve for his eye. You returned to the bed. ‘’I’ll do it for you.’’

You had offered your help out of pure kindness, but Aemond did not want it.

‘’No! I do not wish that.’’ His voice was firm, causing your hands to crisp around the jar. ‘’You won’t like what you see under,’’ he added with a gentler tone.

He knew what lay beneath the eyepatch — the grotesque, scarred skin that he had lived with for years now. It was a sight he preferred to keep hidden from everyone, even you. Especially you. Since you’ve known each other, you’ve only seen his good looks, and Aemond wanted to keep it that way.

Aemond let out a soft hiss of pain as he sat up, his body tense with discomfort. It had not been this bad in a long time.

Seeing him in pain made your heart ache, but you tried to hide it.

You sat down close to him and guided him back against the pillows. He clenched his jaw, trying to bear the pain.

‘’Let me,’’ you insisted, only wanting to help him, to relieve his pain.

His good eye was fixed on yours with a mixture of resignation and reluctance. He knew there was no arguing with you when you were like this.

With a resigned sigh, he slowly removed the eyepatch, revealing the scarred skin beneath. The sight was a stark contrast to his usual handsome features, with its puckered and uneven texture. He averted his gaze, unable to look at you directly.

Aemond waited for your response, his body tense, and braced for your reaction. He expected disgust, pity, perhaps even revulsion. After all, his scarred eye had left other people speechless in the past. He glanced up at you under his lashes, searching your face for any hint of how you were feeling.

You remained silent as you applied the salve on the reddish-pink skin with the more careful and gentle touch. Causing him more pain was the last thing you wanted.

Aemond couldn't help but watch you intently, studying the focused expression on your face. Your eyes were fixed on his scar, but there was no repugnance in your gaze, just a mixture of concern and tenderness.

Once you were finished, you put the lid back on the jar and cupped your husband’s face with one hand. ‘’Aemond,’’ you began, looking at him with the most loving eyes. ‘’I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are.’’ You glanced down at his naked chest, seeing the softly defined muscles he acquired from training, and back to his face. ‘’Although you look pretty great too.’’

Aemond's heart squeezed at your words and the tenderness in your gaze. He had expected a lot of things from you, but not this. Not such unconditional acceptance and love.

"You're the only person who's ever looked at me like this," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.

‘’Come here.’’ You shifted back on the bed and guided him to your lap.

Aemond didn’t protest, curling up to you, seeking comfort and closeness. You began to stroke his hair gently, running your fingers through the soft silver strands. The sensation was soothing and intimate, making him feel safe and entirely loved for the first time.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

All and more taglist: @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13@cece05@laylasbunbunny@gemofthenight@beautyb1ade@mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog@queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  @Anouknani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21

pure wholesomeness if anybody wants it 😻

animal - masterlist

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: a man with no memories and the instincts of an animal finds his place in your home, and in your heart (it’s feral!logan)

warnings: non-sexual nudity, swearing, some sexual thoughts and mentions of sex, mentions of blood, angst, drinking/alcohol, violence, killing, smoking cigars, smut (in chapter 6), oral (fem!receiving), unprotected piv, pregnancy (in the epilogue) warnings will be added along with chapters

not all facts about reader may apply to you. i tried to keep it vague enough so you can insert yourself into the story, but writing a character requires knowing their personality, so it is impossible for this to fit everyone.

chapter 1: in which you meet logan

chapter 2: in which your relationship deepens and he speaks to you for the first time

chapter 2.5: an interlude in logan’s pov

chapter 3: in which you and logan share your first kiss

chapter 4: in which logan starts to regain his memories

chapter 5: in which you and logan start to patch things up

chapter 5.5: an introspection in logan’s pov

chapter 6: in which you and logan go all the way for the first time (smut)

epilogue: in which you’re pregnant and logan’s obsessed

bonus headcanons!

lazy mornings and the proposal

drabbles

feral!logan: the original drabble that started it all

feral!reader: what if reader also had feral traits?

more chapters and drabbles may be added… feel free to send requests!

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

this was...devastating

Five minutes

Satoru Gojo? Yuta Okkotsu

ughhh this is so cute 🤧

Ice Skating With Zoro

A/N: This was written for a trade in my server for the lovely @levi-supreme I had the absolute best time writing this <3<3 Pairing: Zoro x Reader CW: none WC: 1.4k

The crisp, cold air embraced the ice rink, giving way to an exciting ambiance for the date to come. Overhead, stars dotted across the night sky, and a luminescent moon cast its silvery glow upon the surface of the outdoor rink. The soft glow of hanging lights lent a gentle radiance to the ice, transforming it into the  shimmering spot that awaited the couple's presence.

The ice rink, nestled in a secluded corner of the city, was a hidden gem. Surrounded by snow-laden trees, their branches delicately dusted with powdery snow, the rink felt like a magical escape from the world. The emptiness of the rink allowed them the freedom to lose themselves, surrounded by the beauty of the winter night. The only sounds present were the rustling of clothing as You and Zoro put on your skates. 

With skates securely laced, you gracefully glided onto the ice, and Zoro followed suit. The difference in your skating skills became immediately apparent as Zoro clung to the rink's edge, a look of uncertainty on his face. Observing his hesitant attempts, you couldn't resist skating over with a teasing smile.

"Need a little help there?" you asked, your voice playful.

"I got this, just need a minute to get used to it," Zoro replied, attempting to push off the wall. However, his bravado lasted only a second before he found refuge on the barrier once again, fingers tightly gripping the cold wall.

You chuckled, closing the distance and reaching for Zoro's larger hands. "Come on, I got you," you reassured, guiding him away from the safety of the wall. You guided him slowly, hand-in-hand as you taught him how to skate. As you moved together, Zoro's initial wobbles transformed into a more confident glide, guided by your encouragement.

With growing confidence, Zoro decided it was time to venture off on his own, to circle the rink without your guidance. You watched with a big smile as he looped around the rink, occasionally letting out cheers of encouragement as he did so. However, this seemingly simple action took an unexpected turn when he realized he had never learned the crucial art of stopping. His confident grin shifted into wide-eyed panic as he hurtled back towards you.

Zoro's arms flailed in a desperate attempt to slow down, but his efforts proved futile. The collision was inevitable, and you let out a surprised squeal as your paths met. The two of you tumbled together, laughter and shouts of surprise filling the air as you guys met the ground. In the midst of the chaos, Zoro found himself in an unexpectedly comfortable position—on top of you. His hands were planted on each side of your face, holding most of his weight up. 

Your laughter softened into an awkward silence, and a subtle heat flushing your faces. Inches apart, Zoro's gaze met yours, and a hush fell between the two of you. His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips as he realized just how close his lips are to yours. It’s as if one subtle nudge could make your lips collide. His confidence wavered as he did not know what to do from there. You were equally as flustered and you could feel her heart race as you too realized how close his lips were to yours. 

The trance you were seemingly in was abruptly shattered as you two simultaneously realized the intimacy of your position. Zoro quickly pushed himself up, stumbling over his words in an attempt to break the tension. "I, uh, sorry about that. Didn't mean to—"

Your cheeks heated up even more as you tried to hide your own embarrassment with a nervous laugh. "No, no, it's okay. I mean, it happens, right?" Your attempt at nonchalance only made the atmosphere more awkward.

You both scrambled to your feet, avoiding eye contact as you two brushed off imaginary ice crystals from your clothes. You spoke up once again, attempting to ease the tension, “Hey, I saw this cafe on the way here, it looked good. Did you want to check it out?” You asked with a sheepish smile. 

Zoro looked over at you and offered her a grin as he nodded in response. “Yeah, actually that sounds wonderful.”

The two of you took off your skates and made your way to the cafe nearby. The walk there was silent, the embarrassment of the near kiss still occupied your minds. You two entered the cafe and sat across from each other. You and Zoro perused the dessert menu and as he scanned the menu, his eyes widened with intrigue as he spotted something on the menu. "Peppermint mocha cheesecake? That sounds interesting," he remarked, his curiosity evident.

You, looking equally interested, grinned. “I was actually just looking at that! I love peppermint mocha!”

“Then you wouldn’t mind sharing a piece with me, would you?” Zoro asked, the lingering embarrassment now replaced with a newfound confidence.

You nodded eagerly, and you placed your orders for some drinks and a slice of peppermint mocha cheesecake. The delectable treats arrived, and you both indulged. The conversation flowed effortlessly over the cheesecake, a sense of ease enveloping you two as the night progressed.

You couldn't help but notice a smudge of cheesecake on the corner of Zoro's lips. "Hey Zoro, you got a little cheesecake right there," you said, gesturing towards the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, thanks," he replied, attempting to wipe his face. However, in his efforts, he managed to miss the spot entirely. You, finding amusement in his unsuccessful attempt, took matters into your own hands. You grabbed a napkin, leaned over the table, and gently wiped the cheesecake off his mouth. This seemed to fluster him for the second time that night, and you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at the pink tint that graced his cheeks. He muttered a quick 'thanks' as he continued to savor the cheesecake, using the moment to gather himself.

The two of you eventually finished and paid the bill. As you and Zoro stepped out into the cold winter air, his larger hand instinctively sought yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as you strolled through the empty streets.

Zoro broke the silence with a soft chuckle, “You know, I’ve never been ice skating before.”

“Yeah, I could tell by the way you nearly killed me.” You responded playfully.

He laughed louder, his hand gripping hers tighter as he responded, “Well, when you ignore that part, I was a damn good skater. You could’ve confused me with a professional.” He looked over at her with a grin.

You returned his gaze with an affectionate one, a smile spreading across your face as you responded, “Yeah, you definitely fooled me.”

"Good," he responded. Your hands swung between them in a moment of shared contentment before he abruptly halted, turning to face you. Entranced by the way your eyes seemed to radiate with each smile, and how your lips appeared irresistibly tempting beneath the moonlight, he couldn't resist the pull.

His free hand tenderly cradled her your, his thumb delicately brushing against your cheek as he leaned in. In that moment, he breathed deeply, capturing the captivating gaze of yours. His voice, with a slight quiver, broke the quiet night air as he posed the question, "Can I kiss you?"

Your heart skipped a beat, her gaze locking onto his. The air around them seemed to shimmer with a quiet intensity. "Yes," you replied, your voice soft.

With that affirmation, Zoro closed the distance. His lips met yours in a slow, gentle kiss—a moment suspended in time. His warm lips moved tenderly against yours, the kiss carrying the subtle taste of peppermint mocha. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the quiet rustle of the night and the occasional jingle of Zoro's earrings. His hand cradled your face in a protective and intimate manner, while your hands reached up, grasping his shirt as his lips continued to move against yours.

When you finally pulled away, a soft smile played on Zoro's lips, mirroring the warmth in your eyes. He looked at you with a playful glint as he added “How about this: I’ll be the one deciding what we do on our next date.”

You arched an eyebrow, a smile peeking as you responded. "Oh, really? And what exciting plans do you have in mind?”

Zoro's smirk hinted at the mysterious possibilities as he replied, "You'll just have to wait and find out."

Demon Slayer x Studio Ghibli

is it me or is there a serious lack of charlie hunnam fics?

ohhhhh my babe

sorry for the noise that’s just me barking

It's time to pack it up Mr, Delulu

this and Sugar Plums, my delicate love for bucky barnes has been reinforced

Подарок. | W.S

summary: You give the soldier a present for Christmas.

warnings: Fluff & Angst | Winter Soldier!Bucky | Post!CA:TWS | PTSD mentions | Mention of medical treatments | Recovery | Brief talk of nightmares

a/n: Sort of unofficial part two to Sugar Plums since I had a few people asking for a part two. Same universe I guess, with some time between. Uhh probably rushed idk. To be edited later. ;; wc: 3.3k

Recovery.

Fickle, fragile, exhausting.

He gradually accepted being called Bucky, though the name stirred something uncomfortable within him each time it reached his ears. Steve, ever persistent and hopeful, would use various versions of the name - Bucky, Buck, or sometimes James - in his unwavering attempts to resurrect the friend he once knew, unable to accept that the Bucky from his memories had faded away like footprints in snow.

Winter had completely erased the old Bucky.

While these names would trigger a subtle internal struggle, he maintained an almost perfect mask of indifference, with only the slightest furrowing of his brow betraying any sign of his inner turmoil.

You, however, carefully navigated between calling him Bucky and Soldat, aware that using his old code name might reinforce programming you wished to help him break free from. Yet there was a slight relaxation in his shoulders when you used the familiar designation, the way it seemed to ease the constant tension he carried made it impossible to completely abandon - his comfort, however small, had become your priority.

Even if that comfort stemmed from a dehumanizing name.

It required negotiation and persistent discussions to convince Tony to finally allow the soldier access to the medbay wing for his necessary medical treatments. Despite the soldier's extended stay in the tower passing without any concerning incidents, Tony maintained a strong hesitation about providing medical assistance. His deeply-rooted skepticism and apparent distrust were sources of frustration for you, though you consciously chose to avoid escalating the situation into a full-blown argument, knowing it would only make matters more complicated.

You had already gotten into intense scuffles with Tony over the soldier’s stay, how he needed to be looked over, physically and internally. The dislocated arm Steve caused never healed, and he had been carrying his arm awkwardly close to his body. Other physical injuries on top of the apparent dehydration and malnourishment, he was constantly under a veil of sickness.

The situation was particularly delicate because Soldat struggled with being in the presence of the other tower residents. He was acutely aware of how everyone seemed to cautiously moderate their behavior around him, treating each interaction as if they were navigating through a minefield of potential triggers. Like they were walking along eggshells every time they were near him.

It felt like he was walking on glass.

You were his only source of comfort, though traces of caution still lingered in his demeanor. He knew you posed no threat to his wellbeing. You had been patient and gentle the entire time, regardless of his panic or prone sense to lash out if he got stressed enough.

Long nights stretched endlessly in the sterile medbay rooms, where you faithfully maintained your vigil in the uncomfortable chair positioned beside the standard-issue medical bed. The soldier’s bed remained empty, as he consistently chose to rest on the cold floor instead. Sleep was an elusive companion for him, a nightly battle he rarely won. More often than not, his rest was violently interrupted by his own terrified screams or desperate shouts, his body jerking upright with defensive movements, arms swinging at invisible threats.

You would spend countless minutes trying everything in your power to bring him back to reality and calm his frantic state. Sometimes, despite your best efforts and gentle words, the situation would escalate beyond your ability to manage, forcing the medical staff on standby to intervene with sedatives to prevent him from unintentionally causing harm during these episodes.

Luckily his recovery progressed slowly but surely, transitioning from those intensive IV treatments in the clinical environment of the medbay to the more comfortable setting of your personal quarters. His sleeping arrangements evolved as gradually as his treatment; first from the hard floor, then to the modest couch tucked against the far wall, and finally to your bed.

These days, he found his rest beside you each night, his body instinctively seeking comfort by curling close to yours, desperately trying to make up for all those decades of disturbed sleep and haunted dreams.

Over time, his attachment to you had grown increasingly intense, and he began experiencing waves of jealousy whenever your attention was directed elsewhere. You helped around the tower a lot, so you tended to be distracted with tasks or aiding in another’s need. The soldier didn’t like it, so he began leaving his mark on you. It started subtly at first, he would rub your clothes on himself, in his mind it was good enough that you smelled like him. He saw it in a documentary once, of animals, but he had been in such a dehumanized state for so long, it made sense to him. His body’s scent on you, others would back off. That would work.

But, no, it wasn’t enough.

One day, crossing an unspoken boundary between you, he started placing love bites along your skin, positioning these tender marks from your neck down to your shoulders, eventually becoming bold enough to venture lower, marking your chest with these plum bruises.

The possessive displays sent warmth coursing through your body, and you willingly accepted his territorial behavior. After all, you had become his sole source of comfort and security in this world, making it perfectly natural for him to want to claim you in some way - whether through his distinctive scent (you knew about him rubbing your clothes on his body) or these carefully placed marks. His need to establish this connection, to make his claim visible, he was terrified you’d be taken from him.

Progress was being made in your relationship.

While he was still cautious with physical contact, he had begun to allow gentle touches and brief moments of closeness, though always within carefully maintained boundaries. He was like a cat, deciding when he wanted physical attention and when he wanted it to stop. The challenge of memory recovery remained a significant hurdle in his healing process. You had to help him remember specific things, he often mixed Russian and English, or plainly forgot the simplest of words.

He couldn’t for the life of him remember what a pillow was.

When Steve would speak to him, sharing stories and memories of their past, Bucky would often find himself lost in confusion, unable to connect with the vivid recollections that Steve so enthusiastically shared. The determination in Steve's eyes was evident as he tried desperately to help his lost friend remember the bond they once shared, but for Bucky, these memories remained frustratingly out of reach.

Steve's enthusiasm was well-intentioned, but sometimes, it manifested as an overwhelming flood of information and expectations. You could sense Bucky's growing distress during these interactions, the way his shoulders would tense, how his eyes would dart anxiously around the room. The stark reality was that Bucky's memories of Steve were minimal at best, yet Steve continued to share detailed accounts of their past experiences with increasing intensity.

Your became a careful mediator, providing emotional support to Bucky while gently helping Steve understand that his passionate approach was more hindering rather than helping the delicate process of memory recovery.

Bucky would get frustrated with himself during his journey of recovery. His collection of journals became a sanctuary for his fragmented memories, filled with carefully preserved photographs (provided by Steve), detailed notes written in an unsteady hand, and hastily scrawled thoughts or recollections that would suddenly surface from the depths of his consciousness throughout all hours of the day and night. These journals became both a source of comfort and torment, evidence of his struggle to piece himself back together like a puzzle without a photo.

Even with help from you or Steve, he maintained strict control over his recovery process. He deliberately chose not to document anything that Steve mentioned or tried to convince him of, instead focusing solely on recording memories that emerged organically from within his own mind.

Having experienced decades of mental manipulation, he didn’t want anyone influencing his thoughts or memories ever again. He couldn't bring himself to simply accept Steve's version of events without questioning them, needing to verify everything through his own recollections.

You knew it hurt Steve to see Bucky this way, how he refused to listen or believe him, but you couldn’t blame the man. Either of them, really. It was delicate, it took a lot of patience on everyone’s part.

Bucky’s dedication to recovering his past manifested in sleepless marathons that would stretch on for days at a time. The soldier within him approached the task with military precision, attempting to reconstruct his shattered memories in a specific manner. Yet despite his efforts, the majority of his recollections remained disjointed and fractured, with memories of his time with HYDRA dominating his consciousness more than anything else.

While Bucky was trying to recall his elusive past, you dedicated yourself to helping him build new neural pathways and retain more recent experiences, hoping to make his daily life more manageable and give him a sense of independence. The simplest tasks had become foreign territory for him - the muscle memory and basic understanding of everyday activities having slipped away like water through cupped hands. Modern appliances like microwaves, coffee makers, or the oven had become objects that he approached with confusion.

His relationship with food had become particularly concerning. Unable to prepare proper meals, you would find him furtively consuming makeshift sandwiches, but only when he believed he could finish them before being discovered. His posture during meals was hunched, protectively positioning himself over his plate or bowl, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming pace, his entire body tense as though preparing to defend his meal from unseen threats.

Food aggression, apparently, wasn't restrictive to just animals.

Among the numerous concerns, his recurring nightmares stood out as the most troubling and pressing issue. The frequency and intensity of these night terrors had become increasingly worrisome, regardless of how well he had progressed otherwise.

Night after night, his anguished screams would pierce the darkness, and these episodes gradually evolved into extended periods where sleep became completely impossible for him to achieve. Bucky would remain awake for days and nights at a stretch, fighting against his own exhaustion, scribbling nonsense into his journals until his body would finally surrender and he would collapse into a brief, troubled slumber.

This cycle would repeat, each time more severe than the last.

Your began looking into different methods that might help ease his troubled sleep so that Bucky could experience the simple luxury of peaceful rest. Your research led you through a wide array of options; from various herbal teas and natural sleep remedies to more conventional medical interventions. However, given his strong aversion to pharmaceutical solutions, you deliberately steered clear of medication-based approaches, knowing they would likely be met with resistance.

Over time, you discovered that a soothing routine of warm herbal tea and gentle companionship proved to be an effective remedy for his nightmares. The nightly ritual of sharing your sleeping space had become second nature, and you observed how this consistent presence brought him the comfort and stability his life lacked for seven decades. His sleep patterns were delicately intertwined with his emotional state, thus during periods of anxiety or perceived threat, his rest would become noticeably disturbed and fitful.

However, your unwavering presence served as a constant source of reassurance, creating a safe haven where he could finally find peaceful rest. Plus, it helped him regain new memories to write down and you could see how proud he was every time he recounted something from his past.

Christmas morning.

Every corner and crevice of the tower sparkled with festive décor, tinsel draped from every available surface, and twinkling lights illuminated the halls in a dazzling display. It was an extravagant winter wonderland that bordered on excessive, but that was exactly Tony's style - he approached every holiday with unbridled enthusiasm, and Christmas was undoubtedly his crowning achievement.

With his seemingly limitless resources at his disposal, there was nothing holding him back from creating the most elaborate celebrations possible.

Aka…he was rich so he could.

In contrast to Tony's lavish approach, you took a more modest approach when it came to gift-giving. The act of receiving presents always made you somewhat uncomfortable, as you found far more joy in being the one doing the giving. You selected meaningful presents for each team member, carefully considering their individual interests and preferences. You couldn't match Tony's extravagant spending (something he never failed to remind everyone of that morning), but you firmly believed that the genuine thought and personal consideration behind a gift carried far more significance than its monetary value (Tony disagrees).

Bucky perched uncomfortably at the far end of the plush couch, his posture tense and rigid while the other team members enthusiastically tore through their wrapped presents with childlike excitement. Your general annoyance with Tony's characteristic swagger and showmanship failed you this morning, a warmth spread through your chest at the genuine joy radiating from Pepper's face when she discovered the exquisite diamond ring he had carefully selected for her and presented after she freed it from the tight wrapping paper.

You stayed by Bucky all morning, carefully observing his reactions to the bustling holiday atmosphere. It was clear he was struggling to process the overwhelming sensory experience and you didn’t blame him. The twinkling lights and shimmering tinsel to the constant chatter and laughter of the group, on top of holiday music and the smells of breakfast and baked goods from the kitchen, were surely a lot to process. His discomfort grew and you recognized the telltale signs of sensory overload in his slightly widened eyes and shallow breathing. The social expectations was clearly taking its toll.

He had wanted to try, he wanted to sit down with you that morning, but he had been struggling.

Your gift pile was modest, exactly as you had requested. You insisted that presents weren't necessary, you found yourself the recipient of a generously stuffed Christmas stocking and an assortment of small, meaningful items carefully chosen by your teammates in a way that made it impossible for you to object to their kindness.

When Steve presented Bucky with a collection of carefully preserved mementos from their past, but the soldier's response wasn’t what he wanted. His eyes fixed on the items that should have sparked recognition, should have ignited memories of happier times, but instead were met with blank confusion and growing distress. You sensed the uncomfortable scene and noticed the mounting anxiety in Bucky's expression, you decided to intervene with a present you got for him.

"Here, I got this for you." You handed him a carefully wrapped bag with delicate tissue paper peeking out from the top, rustling softly with each movement. "Nothing all that special but...I figured it might be nice to have something like this." You replied gently, your voice carrying a hint of nervousness as you watched him, waiting with anticipation for him to open the gift.

Bucky held the bag tentatively, his eyes fixed on the festive baby blue packaging adorned with an intricate pattern of darker blue ornaments. The glitter-coated decorations caught the light as they spiraled across the surface of the bag. He had to blink a few times to refocus his eyes, his hand slowly reached up and grasped the white tissue paper that had been carefully arranged at the top, concealing the gift. He pulled it free, soft crinkling sounded as he removed it.

He reached into the depths of the bag, his fingers brushing against something soft before grasping it. As he drew it out, his hand revealed a charming stuffed elephant, its plush grey body soft to the touch. The toy was perfectly proportioned, with endearing fat limbs that dangled naturally from its tear-shaped body. Its oversized ears flopped gently and its trunk curved in a friendly manner that seemed to welcome embrace. The stuffed animal sat comfortably in his hands, sized just right for holding close and cuddling.

"Elephants are known for their memories, you know." You gave him a gentle, encouraging nudge, your voice soft and hopeful. "Who knows? Maybe having this elephant around will help spark some of those lost memories of yours. They say elephants never forget, after all."

Bucky turned to face you, his expression one of confusion and curiosity. His eyes held that familiar, guarded look the soldier usually carried - a careful blend of wariness and interest that never quite revealed his inner thoughts. He examined the stuffed toy with an almost childlike fascination, as if encountering one for the first time.

His flesh hand explored every detail of the plush elephant with careful attention, fingers trailing along the soft fabric. He wrapped them around the trunk, testing its flexibility, then moved to rub the floppy ears between his thumb and forefinger, then squeezing the body gently as if checking its softness.

"There's something else too." You smiled warmly, gesturing toward the bag with enthusiasm. "Go ahead, take another look." He complied, reaching in until his hand emerged clutching a brand new journal. Following the theme, the journal was decorated in a soothing light blue shade, its cover stamped with a delicately printed elephant in the center. "I noticed your other journals were getting pretty full, so I thought you might need a fresh start. This one's got plenty of space, lots of room for all those thoughts and memories you want to keep safe."

His hands gently set the items down after examining each one carefully, his eyes lingering on every detail as if trying to memorize them. Then he turned to you, his expression unreadable. "You...got these...for me." Bucky spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen, as if he was having trouble processing the simple act of kindness. "To help me remember?"

"And, the elephant will be a nice cuddle buddy for those long nights you tend to have," you explained softly, watching his reaction. "It has special infusions of lavender and bergamot oils that I picked specifically to help you sleep better. The aromatherapy might even help soothe away those bad dreams you've been having. Well, at least according to the sales clerk." You reached out and lifted the soft plush elephant, bringing it to your nose and inhaling deeply. "See? It's really calming, isn't it?"

He took the toy back and smelled it deeply, letting out a contented sigh as the aroma filled his nose and sent waves of comfort through his body, making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He carefully lowered the elephant into his lap, treating it as if it were made of delicate porcelain. His throat tightened with emotion as he swallowed hard and looked back at you, his eyes wide with disbelief and gratitude.

"All this for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as he struggled to process the reality that someone would think to get him anything at all (Steve didn’t count). The concept of receiving gifts was so foreign to him, so far removed from his perception of what he deserved, that he could barely wrap his mind around it.

You thought maybe it looked sill to some people, but it was more about why you got it, not what you got him.

You nodded, offering a warm smile, "Yes...I got this just for you."

The soldier's gaze slowly drifted back to his lap, his fingers lingering momentarily on the thoughtful gifts before carefully pushing the journal and elephant to rest beside him. He then leaned forward quickly, closing the distance between you and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. The display caught you off guard, given his usual hesitance to initiate any form of contact beyond nightly cuddling or his possessive love-bites.

After you recovered from the sudden gesture, your arms encircled him in return. You drew him closer as he nestled himself against your body, seeking comfort in your warmth and smell. It was one of the only things he could consistently rely on.

A knowing smile played across your lips as you whispered against his ear, "I take it you like it?"

"...Да."

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

— GOODBYE, MY LOVE

⤷ featuring : geto suguru (mentions of gojo satoru, ieiri shoko and nanami kento)

⤷ warnings : major jujutsu kaisen manga spoilers and a bit of angst

⤷ form : imagine

⤷ published : 19 march

⤷ pronouns : not mentioned

⤷ word count : 0.7k

⤷ request : Hehyehye, can i request an imagine with a female reader; where she’s Geto’s girlfriend/classmate and they’re spending their last moments together before he ends up leaving (after Geto is charged with his crimes)

⤷ barista’s notes : let me admit, i've been hating the layouts of my writing but i have no idea how to like 'solve it' anyways, watch me scroll on pinterest for hours to see how i can fix this feeling ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ also i don't think i'm really good with angst writing but that's just my opinion....

It seemed to be a bit too quiet.

Too quiet for Suguru's liking, but what can he do when it was 2 am in the morning.

Softly twirling the ends of your hair, Suguru couldn’t help but begin to admire the shine of the strands before his eyes slowly shift from the strand of your hair to your eyelashes before moving to the apple of your cheeks that were still flushed with a rose hue, ending his journey to your lips that were a little chapped, making him remember how you would alway apply a layer of your favourite chapstick since you hated the feeling of your lips being dry, yet he didn’t mind at all. For some strange reason, Suguru didn’t mind your chapped lips since he knew he was the one to moisturise them the second his lips met yours, but secretly he also did enjoy the taste of the artificial sweetness that came along with the product.

However, right now, Suguru’s body felt the heaviest it has ever been causing him to force himself to balance on his arm since he didn’t want to crush you with his body, worried that he could hurt you like he did with his parents just a few hours ago. Even though he knew that you wouldn’t mind his body on top of yours like you have experienced throughout the time of your intimate relationship, Suguru couldn’t help but believe that this weight he was experiencing will crush you the second he let loose.

“You know you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met right?” Suguru whispered as he let your hair slip from his grasp. “You are so beautiful that I want to take you with me,” he continued before wrapping his arms around your bare body, making you unconsciously sign at the warmth that was comforting you right now as you snuggled against his naked chest, feeling the way your legs tangled with each other, as if you were savouring this moment.

“But I can’t do that, because who is going to take care of Satoru and Shoko if I’m gone,” Suguru mentioned as he began to recall all the times where you put your classmates in place even though you were the youngest out of all of them. “How are you going to take care of Nanami if I take you with me?” Suguru questioned again, yet this time it seemed as if he was asking himself this.

Gently placing a light kiss on your temple before resting his forehead, Suguru felt a single tear drop from his eye to your cheek.

Suguru wasn’t scared about the path he had chosen to walk on, nor he was scared about the consequences of his actions. Suguru was scared of leaving you alone.

He wasn’t stupid. Suguru knows you can defend yourself and how to fight - you were a sorcerer after all like him - but there was still a part of him where he was afraid that you were going to fall into the hands of those ‘monkeys’ that he once vowed to protect. He didn’t want to leave you all alone in this cruel world to survive for yourself. He wanted to convince you to follow him, so he could protect you and continue this love that connected you both heart to heart and soul to soul.

Suguru wanted to make his vision of this relationship come true, he wanted to live with you, marry you, have children with you.

Even the simple things he wanted.

He wanted to stay by your side. He wanted to hold you whenever he wanted. He wanted to kiss you, love you, even breathe the same air as you.

Suguru wanted nothing more but to have you.

He wanted nothing but to have a normal life with you like you had mentioned to him when you both snuck out of your dorms one night to have a weird timing picnic - he still recalls the scolding you both received from your teacher Yaga when he found you both sleeping outside since you were both late for class.

But he knew that he couldn’t and this was the one time he couldn’t let his selfishness control his actions.

Stroking the apple of your cheek, Suguru couldn’t help but smile with glassy eyes once he got a full view of you resting in his arms while your arms tight around him, keeping him from moving away even when he needed to leave you so soon.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me,” Suguru pleaded before tightening his hold, nervous of the days where he was never going to be by your side again.

© violettelueur 2022 - all rights are reserved to violettelueur. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarise, translate or screenshot my work : this will also include other social media/writing platforms like AO3, Wattpad, TikTok and many more.