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lei-tired · 11 months

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**The calm after the storm** -GN!Reader x sad tired Leon

Aww my poor baby needs some love and comfort :(((

**Warnings**

Mentions of pills, axes, blood, wounds, etc. Please be cautious when reading dear! 🥺

He was standing in his empty apartment. Cuts, bruises, and injuries litter his body. The soft rising and falling of his chest as he takes a deep breath, trying to cool himself down from the heat of the burning pain. The burning, searing, flaming pain of each injury.

His blue eyes flicker down to his hands. The same hands that held the guns, the same hands that were covered in blood. He lets out a groan and puts his hands back at his sides. Memories of everything that happened flashed through his mind.

Every person, every yell, every scream. All of the blood and the horrible smell of death that surrounded that horrific town.

He could still practically smell it on him. The nasty..horrific scent of blood and sorrow. How his eyes watered with tears from the memories. The horrible trauma was still fresh and new in his mind. He remembered the animalistic groans and yells from the villagers. He jumped in shock when a thunderous cry filled the night sky.

Lightning followed shortly after, adorning his room. It was still the same way he had left it before he left for that horrific mission. Rain softly patterned against his window as he looked around his now-dark room. His bed in the middle pressed firmly against the wall. Grey sheets sheathed his bed, slight ruffles in them from the nights of his turning and tossing in his bed. The soft black and grey comforter was neatly laid out on his bed, a corner open so he could have easier access to his bed.

His eyes moved to his pillows. A grey color covers them as well. There were two larger ones and a smaller, more narrow one for him to hug. The headboard of his bead was a black smokey color. It was padded as well. The foot of his bed had a black smokey board. His eyes moved to his nightstand. There was a lamp there with a black cover. A few empty pill bottles littered the top. A brand new bottle of pills sat there, unopened and untampered.

The rain pattering steadily against his window continued to serve as a sort of white noise. A round of thunder came again before the familiar white flash illuminated his room once more. His eyes traveled to the floors of his room. They were a black wooden floor. The black was soft and smokey so you could walk easily and not get tripped out and it served as an aesthetically pleasing sight.

His eyes moved to the small circular gray carpet that lay on his floor. A few stray pieces of clothing he dropped while grabbing his gear for the mission. He quietly walked over to them, the sound of his shoes gently hitting the wooden floors softly echoing through his room and then disappearing. He bent down and gently picked up the clothing. He observed them gently to see what they were. In his hands was a soft dark navy blue T-shirt. He gently tossed it into his clothing hamper. He picked up the other articles of clothing that included a pair of black jeans, a pair of socks, and one pair of boxers.

As he stood back up fully he was met with his black closet. There were silver knobs on them. His eyes traveled over the pictures of people he met in the agency. His eyes traveled over to his mirror. His eyes widened slightly for a moment as he saw his reflection. He walked to the mirror that was on his desk.

He looked into the reflection, his tired blue eyes met with the sight of his tired, beaten up, and weary form. His arms were scabbed over with blood from several scratches from fences, plants, trees, and walls that he accidentally scratched himself on.

His wrists were bruised. He was slightly confused about why before he remembered the room he was in with Luis. A soft smile feigned over his lips as he remembered Luis. Although..soon enough his smile turned into a frown as he remembered Luis' death.

A shaky sigh left his lips. It was soft and quiet as it left him. He let his eyes continue to wander over his disheveled figure. His hair was soft but slightly plagued by blood in some spots. The blood was dry and a darker color. His hair had little strays from him moving around and fighting so much.

His eyes traveled to his face. There was a cut on his cheek and a bruise forming on his cheek. There were dark eyebags under his eyes. His pupils were dilated from the darkness of his room. A cut was on his top lip as well. His eyes wandered down to his neck which was slowly also starting to bruise. He could make out a handprint that was starting to form.

His eyes moved to his shoulders which had slightly healed cuts from axes. He had bruises that littered his forearms. His shirt was slightly ripped and snagged in some places. His eyes wandered down to his legs. His pants covered every injury that he could feel but not see. He knew they were there without even seeing them.

His eyes looked back at his mirror. More photos of people from the agency were on the sides of the mirror. His eyes glanced over to a few. There were four. Different pictures of Krauser and him. One picture was in the training fields. Krauser had a smirk on his face. Leon was looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. He remembered that day...

He remembered that Krauser wanted to show him a new move. A new defensive move nonetheless. Leon ended up falling on the ground not some mud and Krauser had laughed at him.

The second photo...Krauser was holding the camera. Leon was in the bathroom, scrubbing off some marker doodles the others had drawn on him after he fell asleep. Krauser had a smile on his face and he was holding back a teasing laugh.

The third photo was of Kraused and Leon. Krauser was sharpening his knife and Leon was watching him out of pure boredom.

The fourth photo was of Leon and Krauser standing next to each other. They were in uniform. Krauser had an arm around Leon and rubbed his knuckle on his head. Leon was Laughing and trying to get his hand off of him.

Leon felt a weird feeling of conflict in his stomach. He remembered how he killed Krauser...how Krauser killed Luis. He remembered everything. He turned his head away. He looked back at his room.

His eyes looked around before he saw his bathroom door. He thought for a moment. A shower seemed...nice. He walked over and opened the door quietly. His bruised hand gently touched the light switch. The bathroom's lights turned on. His eyes squinted from the bright light and he blinked a few times before he got used to it.

He took his shoes off carefully and gently placed them down. His feet hurt because of jumping from high heights, walking, running, jumping, and having to hold his and Ashley's body weight sometimes. He let his hands gently grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it up. A shooting wave of pain shot through hir lower back and shoulders.

He let out a groan and stopped for a second. He took a deep breath before he managed to get his shirt off. He gently placed it on his marbled sink counter. He slid off his pants and his buckle. A feeling of relief washed through him as the pressure from his waistband and buckle finally released.

He looked at his body in the mirror. Even more cuts, stabs, and wounds were visible. He grimaced and turned his face away. He laid a soft white towel out on the rack. He had one of those glass showers with the doors.

His hand reached for the door handle and he turned the shower on. He put it to the hottest temperature and closed the door, waiting for it to heat up. While he was waiting he took off his socks. And right before he got in he slid his boxers off. They fell to the floor with a soft noise and he stepped out of them.

He opened the glass door and stepped in. He let out a sigh and a happy hum from the relief of the warm water. "mm.." He closed his eyes softly for a moment, allowing his ears to do the only work. He could hear the water bouncing off of his sore body and hitting the glass or the marble floor of his shower. He could hear his soft noises of relief softly echo and reverberate against the glass and walls of his shower.

He stretched and he could hear a few pops and cracks and he felt relief. He let out a soft sigh and grabbed a bottle of his shampoo. The shampoo was healing and restoring. It had a soft, sweet scent of honey and fresh air. It was a soft but noticeable scent.

He squeezed the bottle gently and closed it afterward. He put the bottle back on its rack before he gently scrubbed the shampoo into the roots of his hair. The soft smell of fresh air and honey mixed with the smell of the hot water almost immediately. The suds and bubbles formed in his hair as his hands gently massaged his scalp.

He let it sit for a moment or two before he washed it out gently. He tilted his head back to avoid getting any soapy water in his eyes. Though...after what he has seen, that may not have been the worst idea.

He grabbed his conditioner and put it in his hair as well, but he let it sit in his hair. While he let it sit he grabbed a loofa and he got some of his soft-smelling Dove body wash. The scent was sweet and soft but not perfumy.

He put some water on the loofa and let the soap foam up before he gently washed his body. He got his arms, legs, feet, and his inner thighs. He got his back and his shoulders as well. He gently washed all of that off and then washed a few other places. After he finished all of that he gently scrubbed his face to get all of the dirt and grime off of him. He finally felt clean after the sweat that had dried on his skin washed off. He cleaned the loofa and then washed the conditioner out of his hair.

He continued to let the water console his aching and pain-filled body as a bit of relief washed over him. He carefully got out of the shower after turning it off. The glass was clouded and so was the mirror. He grabbed the towel and dried his hair and then his body. He wrapped the towel around his waist and he grabbed his hair dryer and brush.

He spent 5 minutes drying his hair and brushing it. His hair was free from dirt, grime, sweat, and blood. He ran his fingers through his soft and dry hair. He picked up his clothes and put them in his dirty clothes on his way out of the bathroom, deciding to just leave his shoes in there.

He walked to the black closet and his hands gently opened the doors. He grabbed a soft black hoodie and he grabbed new socks, boxers, and some shorts. He put on the hoodie and slid the boxers up his injured legs and up to his waist. He pulled on his shorts before he walked to his bed and slid on his socks.

He was sitting on his bed, now letting everything that happened seem like a memory, a distant but also new memory. He started to get lost in the memory of everything that happened. He felt his chest tighten up and his breath left him as quickly as it came. Tears blurred his vision and he choked a few times on his tears and coughs as he tried to breathe.

Suddenly his phone vibrates. He jumped, feeling nervous and paranoid. He wiped his eyes slightly and reached a very shaky hand to his phone. He looked at the screen and a bit of relief washed through his system. You had texted him.

He put his passcode in and looked at the text message. It was simple but cute to him, but also very needed.

You: Hi Leon, I heard you got back from your mission! Saving the president's daughter huh? Now that is pretty cool. I know you may be busy signing autographs or some idol stuff like that but maybe I could come over and you could tell me about it?

His eyes glistened over. He needed someone right now...

His fingers gently typed on his phone's keyboard and he replied

Leon: Yeah, no you can come over!

He saw your little emoticon he had set as your contact profile photo type.

You: Ok! I'll be right over.

He smiled and turned off his phone. He put it on his nightstand and he laid back on his bed. He could feel the migraine setting in and he let out a groan. He grabbed his comforter and pulled it over him and he rested his head on his pillow. He fell asleep.

Soon enough he heard the front door to his apartment open and he smiled sleepily. He heard a coat being unzipped and placed up and then he heard the sound of shoes hitting the floor. Soft sounds of little steps were heard coming to his bedroom door.

Then you opened the door. You weren't wearing your shoes and you were in your socks. He watched as you walked over to him and looked at the injuries on his face.

He saw the worry in your eyes and he frowned slightly. He didn't want you upset or sad.

He sat up on his bed and opened the blanket. He saw your eyes travel down his body and towards his injuries. He saw your face contort into more worry. He saw you walk into his bathroom and grab the first aid supplies.

You walked over to the bed and sat down on it. You started to put disinfectant on all of his cuts. He let out gasps and groans from the pain as he squeezed his eyes shut. you grabbed bandaids and put them on the smaller injuries before grabbing bandages and wrapping them around his bigger injuries.

Toward the end of it, you were holding his injured hands in your own and bandaging them softly and carefully. His tired and sad blue eyes watched your hands move carefully to not hurt him. You gently finished bandaging his hand and you threw the paper stuff away before putting the first aid away.

This had become a routine. After every mission, you would come over and heal him slowly. Sometimes on simple missions, he would purposefully get hurt just so you would come over and bandage him and stay with him. He enjoyed your company, he enjoyed you being there with him.

You came back into the room and Leon looked at you with a soft, sleepy smile. "Thanks..you help me you know..? Every time you help me I always feel a bit safer and...I can't thank you enough"

His voice was soft and raspy as he spoke softly. He looked up at you and he moved over in his bed. He patted the spot next to him with an uncharacteristically sheepish smile.

You laughed slightly and a warm smile spread on your face as you sat next to him on the bed. He put the blanket over you. Usually, he was the big spoon but after missions, you always held him.

He needed reassurance and love. He needed the feeling of being wanted and cared for. He hated having to always be strong and he hated always making decisions. Lord knows he made enough already during his mission. He just needed someone to hold him...and listen to him..and let him cry.

You opened your arms and he put his head onto your chest. He could feel your hands gently scratching his scalp softly. He could feel your other hand gently massaging the sore muscles on his back and his stiff neck. He let out a small sigh.

He was too tired to cry now. He just wanted to rest and relax..and that is exactly what you let him do.

You were usually his rock after the missions. You were the reason he fought to come home alive. You were his reason for everything.

And these moments solidified those thoughts, and that made them stronger every time.

His love for you was true...and he loved you a lot. That is one thing he knew he could count on. The simplicity of your love...your care...your everything.

His eyes softly closed as he could hear you softly humming. He always enjoyed your humming when he was tired and fragile. He could practically feel your concern. You were holding him like he was as fragile as a flower...as if one movement could break him.

He could feel your warmth and love with every tender movement your hand made as they massaged his back. He could feel the kindness and care in every gentle, loving scratch that blessed his clean and soft scalp.

He could hear the sounds of the rain still pattering against his window like earlier and he had a soft hazy smile form on his tired, injured face as he slowly but peacefully fell into a trance.

His arms were gently placed around your waist. His breaths were soft against you. His chest was pressed against your side.

He could feel you press a soft kiss on his head. He could feel your head laying on his. The weight really grounded him and made sure he knew you were there and that he wasn't in Spain...and that he wasn't alone.

He felt the fatigue from the mission slowly catch up to him again. He could feel his legs relaxing first. Slowly but surely his body relaxed into his bed. The soft pattering of rain against the window, the wind gently blowing, the soft rumbling of thunder...and then the soft sounds of your sleepy hums or the sounds of your soft breathing...

Comfort filled him as he finally felt peace..as he finally felt comfort..and he let sleep carefully overtake him as his body, and mind went to rest...forgetting about his trauma, his stress, and his pain.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. You get some rest now lovely, you need and deserve it🥰

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robin-price · 8 months

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Sup nerds. I remembered this site exists! Yay…anyway here’s some Link!

Maybe i can resuscitate this blog from the dead pls help😆

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gardenofnoah · 2 years

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waiting up for you

one thing about me is I go feral for the idea of big, strong bakugo needing softness and domesticity at the end of a long day. of him having no idea how to cope with how good it feels to be loved. augh i love him. wc: 1k

Bakugo Katsuki opened the front door quietly, careful not to make too much noise, assuming you’d gone to bed already. He set his gauntlets down, grimacing at the clink of the metal against the hardwood floor. He stood up straight and paused, taking a deep breath into his chest, and holding it until it ached. He let the breath out slowly, head tipping back as he did. It hadn’t been a horribly bad day by any means, but his nerves were still fried. He willed the tension out of his shoulders, and felt it pool into his chest instead. Figured.

He dragged himself up the steps, unsurprised at the dark living room that welcomed him home. What did surprise him, though, was the soft light flooding from the open bathroom door down the hall. He heard the faint sound of the melody of your voice, and he let a gentle smile creep across his face. It was just like you not to listen to him when he told you not to wait up for him. He was glad you did, every time.

He let his feet follow the sound of your voice, coming to stand in the doorway of the bathroom. You had candles sitting on the sink, each flickering flame sending warm light dancing around the room. His eyes drifted to where you faced away from him, feet propped up on the edge of the tub, the rest of you nearly submerged in the bath water. His eyes followed your dark hair as it spilled over the edge closest to him. He didn’t bother saying anything—you were still humming softly to yourself, but he knew that you were aware of his presence. Still, he didn’t want to disturb the peace you’d so carefully crafted for yourself.

He watched as you reached an arm out of the water and slung it over the edge, water dripping off your fingers onto the tile. You beckoned toward him silently, knowing he would come. He waited a beat, watching the candle light lick over your skin. You looked ethereal like this—angelically beautiful and certainly too good for him. He didn’t dare blink, lest the moment be a dream his brain conjured for him as a reward for making it through the day. He wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, either way.

He padded over to you, regretting the way his boots clanked off the tile. He sat down on the lid of the toilet next to the tub, reaching a hand out to thread his fingers through your hair. A soft smile graced your lips, and he thought he’d do anything to burn the image of it in his mind.

“Hi, angel,” he said quietly, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. You rolled your head to the right to look at him, still smiling at him as you opened your eyes.

“Hi,” you whispered back, arm bending at the elbow to reach the back of his head, scratching his scalp lightly. He let out a long breath and let his head drop to your shoulder. You kissed the top of it and let your face linger in his hair, breathing him in. You would never tire of the way he smelled— like pine and earth and smoke and him. He pulled back and propped both elbows on the edge of the tub, eyes meeting yours. He could barely breathe when you looked at him like you did— all love and forgiveness and warmth, like he’d never done a wrong thing in his life.

“Rough day?” he heard you ask, and he shook his head, not knowing how to talk about it. You hummed in understanding and went back to massaging your fingers through his hair. He was grateful you didn’t pry it out of him—you never did, always letting him process how he needed to before he could talk to you about it. He knew how much you trusted him, knew that you knew he’d always need you, even if he couldn’t accept it right away. You really were too good for him.

“You wait up for me?” He asked, and if he was honest, he was unsure what answer he was hoping for.

“Not a chance,” you told him, but the way you looked at him, with so much vulnerability and love, told him otherwise. You pulled him forward by the back of his head and pressed a devastatingly gentle kiss on his lips. He had to fight not to let out the whimper that crawled up his throat. His emotions swum behind his eyes and he blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.

“Dinner is in the fridge,” you murmured, still running your fingers through his hair, “I’ll be out in a few, if you want me to warm it up for you while you shower.”

He dropped his head to your shoulder again, squeezing his eyes shut as a last ditch effort to stop the flood from dragging him out to where he surely couldn’t touch. This feeling threatened to pull him under all of the time—he had no idea what he’d done to deserve the love that you gave him so freely, as if it was as inherent and involuntary as a heart beat. He couldn’t stand it, and he couldn’t get enough of it. It would rush into his lungs and drown him if he let it—and he knew that, because he did. Often.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and then picked up his head to press another to your temple, and then a final peck to the top of your head. He spared you one more glance, noticing your eyes had fell shut again as he lingered, unable to look away from you. He turned on his heel and made for the doorway, a last ditch effort before he choked on his love right there in the bathroom.

“Katsuki?” Your voice made him pause, head turning to look back at you.

“Mm?”

“I love you,” you told him, and he nearly lost it, “more than you know.”

He felt the burn in his eyes and he took in a breath, silently begging his voice not to shake. “I love you so much.”

this fic belongs to me (@b-writes-things). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.

#bakugo #bnha bakugo #mha bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo fluff #bakugo comfort #katsuki fluff #katsuki comfort #i am so gay but i want to love him anyway #he just needs a hug #bakugo x gn reader #bwritesthings

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rubydracogirl · 5 months

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WOW SO

I did not expect that drawing of Stanley to get notes. Thank you all so much for that, I keep rolling around in the likes and reblogs like a husky in fresh fallen snow.

Since I wrote a one-shot with Reader kissing Ford, I thought about it, and Stan needs a hug.

Why don't we give him one? ^_^

Stanley PinesXReader

Rated T for depictions of tobacco and adult conversations.

"Just A Hug"

It had been such a long day at work. You couldn’t wait to lock up and leave, though you dreaded walking in the snow. The bitter cold was waiting for you with wide arms, and as you clocked out and zipped up your coat, you regretted taking this shift.

Fuck it, I need the money….

To your surprise, when you stepped out, you noticed someone out in the parking lot. A lone car, with someone leaning against it, smoking. You squinted, recognizing the silhouette. It was that weird science guy from the woods. Stan something. He’d just come in for a pack of cigarettes, a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs an hour before the store closed. But that was over an hour ago…

What was he still doing here?

You weren’t normally nosy, but it was late, and you had some… neighborly concerns. You didn't know him well, he'd always been a bit of a hermit. He had been coming into town more often this past month, so you'd seen him a lot more. You liked him alright, he seemed harmless.

You shivered in your jacket.

Why was he sitting out here in the freezing cold?

Screw it.

“Hey there, buddy, y’doing alright?”

He seemed slightly startled by your voice as you began to walk over and he waved at you sheepishly.

“Fine, fine, just, uh, enjoyin’ the uh, night life.” His gravelly voice called back to you.

“Yeah, real wild hangout this is. You should see it in the summer, we get all sorts around here.” You chuckled. “Can I bum one off ya?”

He looked at you with surprise before reaching back into his pocket.

“Didn’t take ya for a smoker, toots.”

“On occasion. Much appreciated.” You replied, reaching into your own pocket for a lighter.

You lit up before taking a deep drag, ignoring the cold and focusing on the calming rush of nicotine. As you blew out a thin wisp of smoke into the air, you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“So, you wanna tell me why you’re hanging out so late at night?”

He gave a hoarse chuckle.

“Didn’t think anyone would care. It's not illegal, right?”

“No. Not illegal… but weird.” You replied. The pale smoke drifted into the air, and you leaned against his car with him.

“C’mon, buddy. You can talk to me.”

He looked at you with narrowed eyes.

“Sweetheart, I don’t even know your name. M'not gonna bare my soul to a stranger, even if you are cute.”

“I wear a name tag, y’know. You probably would’ve seen it if you weren’t so busy looking at my tits all the time.” you replied boldly.

He snorted sheepishly at that. “Sorry. I uh, thought I was being discreet about it.”

“You’re not exactly the type of person I would label 'discreet'.” You chuckled. “You’re also not the first guy to ogle…. It’s (y/n), by the way. You’re Stan, right?”

“Yeah…Stanford Pines.”

You hummed thoughtfully.

“There, we’re acquainted now, for better or worse.”

He chuckled.

“You’re awfully pushy, Miss (y/n). I don't know if I like that.”

“Hey now, I'm not pushy, just worried… no one just hangs out in an empty parking lot during awful weather, not even in this backwoods town.”

He grunted.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, no offense, toots.”

You nodded.

“That’s fair… can you at least promise that you’re not up to mischief here, Mr. Mysterious guy?”

He looked down at you, and you saw the barest hint of a smirk appear on his rugged face.

“Not the kind of mischief that you need to worry about, honey.”

You squinted, trying to read his emotions. It was impossible, though you could clearly see lines of care and some deep worry behind his tired, dark eyes. In that moment, with the cold night pressing in and his presence the only warmth around for miles, you felt your heart clench into a single desire. He didn't want to talk to you, that was fine… but you weren't going to leave him like this.

“Ok, Stan. I won’t bug you anymore… can I ask for a favor though?”

“Depends on the favor, but shoot."

“Can I hug you?”

He actually choked, coughing out smoke and turning from you as he tried to regain control.

You winced in sympathy, but as he turned back to you, his already reddened cheeks were even redder.

“You're serious? A hug?” He repeated incredulously, his voice raw from the coughing.

You nodded, adding sternly, “Don’t get any bright ideas, wise guy. It’s only a hug.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t- that wasn’t…. Sure. Yeah. I could hug you.”

It was obvious you had caught him off guard, but as you put out your cigarette and opened your arms, you didn't expect how strong he was. He pulled you in against his body effortlessly. The heat from his body stole your breath and suddenly, you didn't feel so cold.

His bulky frame shielded you from the winter air, his arms enveloping you perfectly. Your heart skipped as you felt him sigh.

You squeezed him tightly, resting your head against his shoulder. He smelled like cigarettes, cheap cologne and some strange, musky smell, like burnt metal. It was a strangely comforting scent, and you thought you felt him turn his head towards you.

"You're so small…" he murmured softly, his breath puffing against your hair.

"Naw, you're just big." You shot back, but didn't lean away or let go. In truth, you didn't want this moment to end...

Inevitably, he let go after a moment, awkwardly patting your back, his cheeks still rosy, though it could have been from the cold. You gave him a smile.

"Hey, if nothing else works out for you, you can at least know that you're a good hugger, Stan Pines."

"... Thanks." He replied quietly. You suspected he wasn't just thanking you for the compliment.

It was getting close to midnight, and you decided you had been nosy long enough. You patted his shoulder, giving him a soft grin.

"I suppose I'll leave you to it. See ya around, Stanford."

He piped up, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Wait, (y/n)… look, do you, uh, need a ride?"

You considered it.

"Hmm. You're not gonna kidnap me, right?"

"No! No... Not tonight, no." He chuckled.

You giggled.

"Not tonight huh? Too bad. But, well, sure, I could go for a ride. Thank you."

He grinned back, a spark of sincerity lighting up his dark eyes.

"Don't mention it. Let's get out of this crummy weather."

#Gravity Falls #fanfiction #my writing #stanley pines x reader #Stan Pines #Mullet Stan #he just needs a hug #we give him one #after smoking with him #i initially wrote this with my name so #apologies if I didn't catch all the Rubys #also female pronouns are used #angst and fluff #strangers to lovers vibes

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