Multifandom: Bleach, Andromeda Six, Skyrim, LOTR, The Hobbit, Ikemen Vampire, Ikemen Sengoku, Jujutsu Kaisen. Always trying to be funny and to post some nice edits even if I'm not really good at them. Hope you have fun here! Feel free to ask anything.
Hey! I love the way you describe Leon! If I may, I’d love to read an angsty/fluffy fic where Leon (r9) comes home after a mission—tired, hurt (not too badly, of course), and dirty. The reader helps him with a warm bath, cleans him up, shaves his stubble, takes care of his wounds, then makes him a proper meal (this man is big—he needs to eat a lot lol). After that, she massages his sore muscles and lulls him to sleep :3 He really needs to be pampered. Thank you in advance!
re9 leon kennedy x fem!reader fluff
1.3k words
c/w: mentions of blood and descriptions of injury
a/n: thank you for your lovely request! i hope you enjoy, this one really tugged at my heart. re9 leon deserves this kind of peace, and more! NOT FULLY EDITED
⊹˚. ♡
when leon gets home, the first thing he notices is that the house is quiet, and he couldn't be more glad.
it’s late, very late, and leon expects you to already be sleeping. the windows of your home are dark and reflective, the only light coming from the lamp you left on in the living room, and he catches a glimpse of his own wounded silhouette.
a few more steps forward, and he sees you.
you tried to stay awake on the couch, but the sound of the door unlocking and his heavy boots pulls you up before you even realize you’d drifted.
he steps closer slowly. he looks exhausted.
there’s a bit of dirt smeared along his jaw as if he tried to wipe it away in a rush. there's dried blood at his collar, which definitely isn’t all his. his shoulders are tense like they’ve forgotten that "calm" is an option. and when he sees you sitting there in your soft sleeping clothes, his whole expression shifts.
“hey,” he says, voice gravelly.
you leap from the couch, sighing in relief, “leon,”
you cross the room before he can take another step.
“oh honey, what a mess,” you chuckle in a whisper, hands hovering his arms like you’re afraid to break him.
he lets out a slow breath through his nose, breathing out a weak and sarcastic “thanks”, but his thoughts are louder than his voice.
'god, i missed you. i’m so damn tired.'
you reach up carefully, fingers brushing the side of his face. he leans into it without thinking. just a fraction. just enough that you notice.
“what hurts? besides everything,” you murmur.
“i'm fine. i've had it worse,” he says automatically. he always says that. you give him a look.
he huffs, “nothing serious. i promise.” but despite his words, he’s swaying a little, and he smells like smoke and metal and cold. just cold.
“i'll run you a bath,” you say softly. “come on.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
the bathroom is warm, heat curling in steam against the ceiling. you added epsom salts and a little bit of the oil he likes—it smells clean, woodsy, grounding. the kind of scent that makes leon feel safe. he sits on the edge of the tub, already peeling his shirt off while you help him out of the gear strapped onto his legs.
his movements have slowed down, the adrenaline nearly gone his system. it started to dwell the second you touched him. as you help him take his shirt off, his hands find your hips. you see the bruising blooming along his ribs, a shallow cut near his shoulder, scrapes along his arms, and a nasty, drying deep slice on his neck.
you wince, terrified by the sight, but you hide it, keeping your hands gentle. his thoughts, however, are not.
'she shouldn’t have to see this. i should’ve been more careful.'
but when your fingers brush the angry bruise along his side, you don’t flinch. you don’t even look scared. you just look focused.
“you did good,” you tell him quietly, like you can hear the guilt creeping in.
he looks up at you slowly. “you don’t even know what happened.”
“no, but...” you pause, “you came back.”
that shuts him up.
you help him ease into the bath, and the second the hot water reaches his shoulders, he exhales, long and trembling, like he’s been holding in his breath for days.
“feels good?” you tease softly.
“hey,” he mutters, eyes closed. “i'm trying to relax here.”
you kneel beside the tub and start washing the grime from his skin. the water darkens, but leon's heart and mind lighten immensely.
you move deliberately, careful around the cuts. he opens his eyes to watch you for a little. he sees the way your brows pinch when you see a deeper scrape, and guilt runs through his chest.
“i can do the rest myself,” he murmurs, but doesn't move.
“just shut up and let me.” you smile, reaching up and tilting his chin so you can clean the dirt along his jaw. “i want to.”
his body tenses in a way that has nothing to do with bruises.
when you reach for the shaving cream, he raises his brows in amusement. “seriously?”
“you’re scratchy.”
“it's 5 o'clock. at most.”
“right, well, you’re itchy.”
he scoffs, but he lets you.
you work slowly, one careful stroke at a time. you hardly ever do this for him, but he trusts you, keeping very still, eyes on your face instead of where you're putting the blade. when you’re done, you wipe the last of the foam away and smooth your thumb over his jaw.
“there,” you whisper. “much better.”
he catches your wrist gently before you pull away, pressing a soft kiss to your palm.
“thank you,” he says simply.
you grin, pushing his hair back and pressing a kiss atop his eyebrow.
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after you dry him off and bandage what needs bandaging, you walk him to the kitchen. (well, you walk to the kitchen and he follows you like a clingy puppy).
he begins to protest weakly. “can i—”
“you can sit,” you interrupt, pointing him into a chair.
he doesn’t bother arguing. by now, he realizes he's not in charge tonight.
he doesn't really mind though. watching you cook is one of his favourite things. the way you move around the kitchen like it’s a choreography only you know. the warmth of the candles you light to hide the smell. the normalcy of it. it feels unreal after where he’s been.
you make him a hearty and filling meal, his favourite, breakfast for dinner. you pile his plate high with pancakes and eggs and sausages, sneaking in a few slices of tomato and cucumber.
he gives you a look.
“what?” you say.
“you feeding a small army?”
“you are a small army.”
that makes him laugh, low and warm. “thank you, honey.”
he eats like he hasn’t in days, because he probably hasn’t. you sit across from him, chin in your hand. every so often your knee “accidentally” brushes his under the table, just to remind him he’s here. he tells you about the mission, about grace, but he purposefully leaves out the scariest details. all the times he nearly didn't make it. he always does that—tries his best not to worry you.
by the end of the conversation, he finished everything.
“feel better?” you ask.
he leans back in his chair, studying you, a small satisfied smile painting his cheeks.
“yeah,” he admits. “i do.”
but it’s not just the food.
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later, in the bedroom, the lights are dimmed low. clean sheets, like you might've been anticipating his return.
leon lies on his stomach, shirtless, head to the side, while you straddle his hips gently—careful of his tender ribs—and start working your hands into his shoulders.
he groans before he can stop himself.
“that bad?” you murmur.
“you have no idea.”
your thumbs press into the tight knots near his spine, and he feels himself unraveling, inch by inch.
'so worth it if this is what i come home to,' he thinks.
but he doesn't just mean massages, he means you. everything you are, everything you do, your love. he feels so spoiled.
“i missed you a lot, leon,” you whisper.
that does something to him. he opens his eyes slightly, staring at the dark wall ahead.
“you too.”
your fingers slow, turning into gentle strokes instead of deep pressure. you trace along his spine, and his eyes grow heavier under your touch.
“so much.” he adds in a murmur, already half-asleep.
you shift beside him, letting him roll carefully onto his side. he pulls you in close, one big arm wrapping around you like it’s instinct. eyes still shut, his face tucks into your hair.
he smells more like himself now. soapy and something uniquely leon.
his breathing evens out within minutes, but just before sleep fully claims him, he mumbles, voice thick and soft and unguarded:
The least realistic thing about the Lord of the Rings is that a team got together for a group project, decided everything in one meeting, and their plan worked.
The group abandoned the original plan halfway up Caradhras, split up several times, some group members started looking into different projects, found new partners and ended up doing something else, the original plan was abandoned early on, and the project was salvaged at the last moment by the one group member that didn’t get sidetracked. Sounds like a pretty astute description of teamwork to me
OH DEAR GOD! Open requests in a blog I just found out and loved? This is everything my heart needed! Honey, I'd like to request Shingen Takeda + hugs #8! I just can't get enough of that handsome man lol wish you the best!!
Hello there @mrsukitakekyoraku - so glad you found my blog! Sorry this is like a few (or maybe more) months late. Hope you enjoy!
Let's Dance - Shingen Takeda x Reader (Ikemen Sengoku)
A/N: Part of my New Year, New Celebration event.
Pairing: Shingen Takeda x Reader
Prompt: hugging while slow dancing
Word Count: 386
Tags: fluff, one very tiny spoiler for his main route
“I had a great time today.”
It was a great day. It started with a shopping trip for new fabric (and a new hairclip as a gift from Shingen) that ended at your favorite tea house for dinner. Hot sake and sweet desserts really hit the spot after a long day walking around the town.
Darkness was creeping into the sky, light blue replaced with the darker purples of twilight. Time had come to return to Kasugayama and bring the others the treats you bought them.
But now there was a crisp breeze, enough to feel the chill on your cheeks.
“I hope everyone likes the tea cakes we picked out,” you said as you hurried your steps, eager to get back home.
“They were quite good,” Shingen commented. “But I’m not sure we bought enough.” You glanced at him, his handsome profile highlighted by what was left of the sky’s light, and laughed. Shingen and his insatiable appetite for sweets.
As you made your way through the streets, you heard music playing from somewhere, the sound growing louder the closer you approached. Shingen stopped in his tracks and turned to you.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, his large hand extended towards you.
“Now? Here?” You looked around at all the people milling about, going their way shopping, warmth rising to your cheeks as you suddenly felt very self-conscious.
Your gaze met his; dark puppy dog eyes stared back at you. It was easy to forget that not so long ago, tomorrow was not a promise for Shingen, and that he had to live everyday for today.
How could you say no to him? Or that sad face?
“Anything for you,” you said with a smile.
You slipped your hand into his; warm and strong, you would never tire of holding hands with him. He twirled you before guiding you into his arms. Your bodies swayed slowly to the music, your head pressed against his chest. Warmth radiated from his body, warming your cool cheeks.
“Not so bad, is it?” he asked, sensing your earlier shyness.
You hugged your arms tighter around his waist, your body pressing closer to him. No, it wasn’t so bad after all.
Hi! Can I have a request please in which MC decides to have le Warlords try the "Period Cramp Simulator"? Just imagine them boasting that they'll be fine, only for them to kneel over in pain. 🤣🤣🤣🤣
Again, Anon, I am sorry for taking so long. Hopefully my schedule should clear up soon…? But here is your request!
Oh, this is a fun request. But it involved some serious thinks… these warlords are pretty stoic. In my memory they’ve been shot (arrows and bullets) beaten up, fallen (or jumped) off cliffs, stabbed in battle, stabbed daily by Kenshin and defied a terminal illness without complaint….
So, really, are they going to be defeated by a period simulator? Are they? Let's see....
Upon hearing of such a device there is a great argument over who would be able to last the longest. And so a contest is proposed….
Contest Rules:
One: Mai is not allowed to watch as all agree that none of them will admit to pain in her presence. (She hides in the ceiling and watches anyway).
Two: Yelling, yelping, screaming are grounds for elimation.
Three: Sasuke runs the experiment and controls the simulator. He is the judge as to whether or not a warlord has been eliminated. Why Sasuke? First, because they all trust him enough to run the device equally and not cheating for your lord, Hideyoshi and Kanetsugu. Second, because he is a sensitive new age guy and freely admits that period cramps hurt (he secretly tested the stimulator on himself when he was alone and tapped out at level eight).
Let the games begin! Sasuke places the simulator patches on everyone, and from a master switch, turns the device on so that everyone hits level one simultaneously.
Level One:
All warlords are fine. Ranmaru earns the wrath of the room by noting that it “kind of tickles.”
Sasuke bumps the intensity to Level Two:
Such serious faces. Everyone is concentrating.
Sasuke bumps the intensity to Level Three:
There are a few deep breaths happening now, but nothing that could be defined as yelling, yelping, or screaming.
Sasuke bumps the intensity to Level Four:
Sasuke walks around the room for a long, slow time, looking at everyone’s faces, until Kenshin tells him to get on with things and start making it hurt. When is the pain going to start? Kanetsugu chimes in, telling Sasuke to move things along, so that Kenshin can have his pain. There are quiet whispers of, ‘yes, hurry, let’s move it along,” and a lot of internal, “let’s get this over with now, kthxbye” thoughts.
Sasuke bumps the intensity to Level Five:
Kicho accuses Nobunaga of wincing. Motonari is quick to agree that Nobunaga winced. Hideyoshi defends Nobunaga, says that he would never wince, it was just a natural blink. After a short discussion, it is decided that Nobunaga did not wince, and further accusations of wincing, or yelling, or thereof will be cause for forfeit.
Nobunaga silently admits to himself that he quite possibly winced, but now that he knows what to expect, he is prepared for the next wave of … oh shit.
Sasuke bumps the intensity to Level Six:
Ranmaru, Keiji and Yoshimoto incur a forfeit by accusing each other of wincing. They escape the room. The fourteen remaining warlords quickly look around, but no other accusations are made.
Sasuke bumps the intensity to Level Seven:
There is a lot of visible sweat, careful breathing, and gritted teeth happening. Internally, there is a lot of very creative swearing, using words in combination rarely spoken out loud.
Kennyo puts himself into a meditative state. Masamune wonders if that would be considered cheating, but Kennyo points out that he’s not preventing anyone else from meditating, he’s just using the skills he has. No one is willing to discuss the matter further, and Shingen notes that Kennyo is correct, and can they please keep going.
Privately, Shingen vows to give every one of his female spies three days off a month, and a pay raise.
Sasuke bumps the intensity to Level Eight:
Sasuke looks at every face and pauses at Ieyasu’s for a long time. Ieyasu says that while he is not bothered by the cramp simulator, Sasuke is making him very uncomfortable. Sasuke replies that he’s impressed by Ieyasu’s stoicism and by the way when this is over, can he have Ieyasu’s autograph. Ieyasu rips the simulator off and stomps out, deciding that while he can endure the pain, he can’t deal with Sasuke.
Ieyasu goes home and hugs his emotional support sourdough starter for the rest of the day.
Sasuke bumps the intensity to Level Nine:
Kanetsugu looks over at Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi…. “Are you two holding hands?!” Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi look down at their joined hands and instantly let go of each other. “No!” they both yelp.
Some time is lost while it is debated whether or not that counts as period simulator yelping, and after everyone votes (voting signified by slow careful hand raises), they are both allowed to continue in the competition.
Yukimura curls himself into a silent, fetal ball – but he does not yelp or yell, so Sasuke is inclined to let him continue.
Sasuke bumps the intensity to Level Ten:
The warlords sit in silent agony.
Time ticks onward.
Slowly.
No one taps out.
Everyone stares at each other’s faces.
“Perhaps we can consider this a tie,” Shingen suggests.
There is immediate universal assent from the rest of the room, and Sasuke agrees. “Take off your simulators.”
Twelve warlords quickly – but nonchalantly – remove their devices. Then Masamune notices… “Mitsunari, lad, you can take the device off now.” Hideyoshi rushes over to his vassal, worried that perhaps the young man has passed out.
Mitsunari looks up from the book he has been reading. “I’m sorry, did you say something? He gazes around the room. “Oh, are we starting the contest now? Go ahead, Master Sasuke, I’m ready.”
Mitsunari declared the winner.
There will be a celebratory banquet for him…. next week… when everyone else has recovered.
“What’s that, fireball? A special day for romance? Ridiculous. As if one day is enough. I will declare all days a ‘Valentine’ day.”
Hideyoshi
“Candies for me? I don’t understand . . . of course I’ll eat them, but you should help me. The sweetest gift I could have is you at my side.”
Mitsuhide
“A custom from your time, little mouse? Fascinating. I know just what sweet treat I want from you. Oh, you meant the candies? No. I think not. What happens to the mouse in the layer of the fox? That’s right. I’m going to gobble you up.”
Masamune
“Thank you kitten. What did you say this holiday was called again? Valentine’s Day? Interesting. And you give each other these little cards with phrases of love or friendship? I’ll remember that for next year.”
Ieyasu
“Ahhhh! Don’t startle me like that! What is a Happy Valentine’s Day anyway? It sounds ridiculous.” *slips his valentine into his kimono when he thinks you aren’t looking* “You didn’t make one for anyone else, right?”
Mitsunari
“What a strange lunch! It looks like just some sweets. And a letter! Valentine?” *stands and spills plate of candies. Knocks over a shelf trying to catch them, disturbing Cat, who knocks over another shelf trying to escape*
Keiji
“A special day to say I love you? Who needs that, princess? I can tell you I love you every day.” *eyes twinkle dangerously* “But if it’s a holiday just for love . . . I know one princess that isn’t leaving this room for the rest of today.”
Ranmaru
“A day to give gifts to the people you love? That sounds amazing! But you’re the only one I want a love-gift from. Let’s go sit on the roof and eat these together. Everything is better when I share it with you.”
Kenshin
“This is for me?” *holds valentine card as if it is a precious work of art* “I will find the perfect place to display it, where I can look upon it every day. My Valentine. A most precious gift from my most precious love.”
Shingen
*laughs* “What’s this about, angel? Showing the person you love affection by giving them this little letter and some sweets? That’s a holiday I can get behind. Come here and let me say thank you properly. I know just how to celebrate a holiday for love . . .”
Yukimura
“Valentine’s Day sounds stupid.” *sees you begin to pout* “But hey! This candy you made is . . . real good . . . and . . .” *blushes* “Just c’mere already and let me kiss you, ok? I don’t need a holiday to confess my love.”
Sasuke
“Ah yes, Valentine’s Day. Did you know Chaucer essentially invented the holiday with his poem mphhhh?” *history lesson interrupted by necessary kiss* “I see your point. We can discuss the history of the day later. I think we should continue celebrating it where we just left off.”
Yoshimoto
“What a beautiful idea! There can never be too many holidays to celebrate love. Your Valentine is so pretty, but there is no gift that can hold a candle to you.”
Kanetsugu
“A Valentine?” *looks at candy and card suspiciously* “Does Lord Uesugi know about this? I feel if the holiday is not approved by my lord, we should not in good -” *protests interrupted by a kiss to remind Kanetsugu that Kenshin doesn’t need a say in everything* “I suppose if it’s just between us. Now give me your lips again. They are much better than these sweets.”
Motonari
“What flower-headed nonsense are ya spouting now?” *look of worry that he forgot to get something for you* “Valentine’s huh?” *expression changes to mischievous smile* “Well I got ya a Valentine too. A secret one. Yeah. I’ll show you in my cabin.”
Kennyo
“Thank you. You must tell me more of this holiday. Come. We will walk and you can explain it to me.” *takes your hand* “Any day I have an excuse to spend more time with you is worth celebrating, afterall.”
Kichou
“A Valentine? Why?” *looks coldly on the candy and card* “Yet another stupid custom from the future. But don’t go. Pouting only enhances your adorable features. I will instruct you on why we don’t need a valentine.”
