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aliidarling · 3 months ago

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i literally love how you write danny so if that’s okay i want to ask you if you could do Danny x Fem reader cuddling please🙏

thank youuuu😭🙏🙏

DANNY JOHNSON x fem!reader

— sfw content

summary; just cuddling with your psycho boyfriend!! :3

warnings; danny himself is a warning, blood, stalking, fluff, cuddling, pervert danny, non-dbd au, no beta read we die like danny’s victims

you and danny’s relationship was close to normal. you were aware of his antics and how he snuck out at night to end the lives of other, but who were you to judge? you were the one in love with him knowing he had ruined several lives.

there would be quiet nights where you laid in bed waiting for him to return home from one his stalkings. anxiety would pool at your feet, taunting you. your head yelled at you and told he he probably got himself arrested or he broke into the wrong house.

but each time the sound of the front door slowly creaking open always seemed to comfort you. you’re quick to sit up and rush out of your bedroom, peeking into the living room. he’s still in his ghostface get up, the bloody robe and mask telling you he had succeeded once again. a grin tugged at your lips and you ran into his arms, giggling lowly.

“how did it go? are you alright? did they fight back—“ you bombard him with questions that had been lingering in your mind for the last two hours. your hands grab at him to hold him tighter to you, eager to feel the warmth of his body.

he chuckles at your needy attitude and pulls off his mask, his dark eyes staring you down. he was as pretty as the day he met you.

“it went well, sweetheart. lil’ brat fought back but as you can tell,” he snickers, motioning to himself, “i won.” the cocky tone doesn’t go unnoticed. whenever he comes home from a successful kill he’s always in a good mood.

“good job, baby.” you coo happily, pressing kisses all over his face, from his jaw to his forehead. he hums and picks you up. you wrap your legs around his waist as he holds you close, carrying you to your bedroom.

“she managed to land a few blows on me, though.” he grumbles into your ear, subtly feeling you up through your pajamas. he loved these little flimsy things you wore to bed each night, a cami with cotton shorts, they were always so soft and comfortable to cuddle with.

“awwww, are you okay?” you frown, looking over his bloody robe. “s’all her blood, right?” you bat your lashes.

he snorts.

“yes, baby, all her blood. but the sore ribcage is from her bitch ass landing a few blows on me.” he spits out the last few words, feeling quite frustrated that the young girl he went after managed to hold quite a fight. he had stalked her for weeks, memorized every single thing about her, but he didn’t know she would pack quite a punch. she was barely 130 pounds for gosh sake.

“poor baby.” you coo as he sets you down onto the bed. he strips down from his robe, throwing it into the hamper with no hesitation. underneath is his usual black jeans with black tee shirt, completed with black gloves. he turns to the closet and starts to rummage through for some pajamas as you sit on the bed, fiddling with your fingers, waiting for him.

he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a scowl tugging at his lips. there was a small scar at the corner of his mouth that reminded you how dangerous his career was, but it also definitely enhanced his beauty no matter what anyone else told you.

“why you still awake, huh?” he asks as he grabs a pair of grey sweatpants and a black crewneck. he pulls down his pants and throws his shirt into the hamper with no care, and then quickly changes into the comfortable pajamas.

“was waiting for you.” you pout, watching intently. you weren’t a pervert, no, you just loved to watch your boyfriend in his glory.

“of course you were.” he sighs with a subtle hint of mirth. he fixes up his messy hair and crawls into the bed right next to you, shoves away some of your stuffed animals even after you yell at him not to, and pulls you close to his chest. you sigh happily and snuggle into his chest, his firm arms wrapping around you. he had a cold heart but he’d never say no to cuddles.

“gimme a back massage tomorrow, okay?” he whispers, hugging you. he rolls over so he’s on top of you, happily sighing at the new position. it’s more comfortable for him and slightly suffocating for you, but he doesn’t care. he just likes the feeling of having you in his arms underneath him with your boobs in his face.

“so squishy….” he mumbles, burying his face into your breasts, hands squeezing your waist.

“goodnight danny.” you yawn and press kisses to his head. he hums back, his voice muffled by your body, eyes already closed and zoned out. he’s always exhausted after one of his killings. it’s quite a work out for him. “night, brat.” he purrs.

#ghostface #danny johnson #ghost face x reader #dead by daylight #danny johnson x reader #ghostface dbd #dbd ghostface #danny johnson ghostface #the ghostface #danny jed olsen johnson #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader

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stellarbit · 7 months ago

Text

Confess

3k words NSFW Echoxreader

Someone requested some Echo smut and so I gave it a shot.

You catch Echo off guard and he has to deal with his feelings for you.

Laid up in the dimly lit corner of Cid's parlor, Echo grumbled under his breath as AZI-3 performed a body scan. Flanking him were you and his brothers, forming a protective semicircle. Omega, always eager to be involved, stood near Echo’s head, her eyes darting between you and the rest of the Batch as you all did a bit of bickering.

Chuckling, you lowered yourself into a bedside chair, “Wrecker, when are you going to learn to keep your eyes up.”

The burly clone rolled his eyes and head in the same exasperated expression. “I do keep ‘em up!”

“Considering you nearly made all of us fall, I’d say you didn’t this time.” Tech drolled.

At the mention of the fall, Echo gingerly touched the swelling bump on his head, a reminder of the chaos when Wrecker lost his grip climbing a cable to the Marauder, resulting in both of them plummeting twenty feet to the ground. Your voices were gradually sharpening the dull ache in his head.

A streak of red on Echo’s hand caught your eye. A tear in his glove exposed a cut you hadn’t noticed at first glance. As Tech and Wrecker continued their argument, oblivious to the new development, you reached out and gently grasped Echo's wrist.

“Echo.” You said warily, as you pulled his injured hand closer for a better look. He kept his eyes shut, already knowing what you were about to say.

"Just a scratch, nothing to worry about," he murmured dismissively, trying to withdraw his hand, preferring to ignore the injury than address it in front of everyone.

You kept a firm grip on his hand, the pressure pushing a fresh drop of blood to the surface. Before he pulled away again, you took his bleeding finger into your mouth. The feel of your mouth around his gloved finger sent Echo lurching to attention. He was so caught off guard that he smashed his head straight into AZI.

At the same time Echo shoved away AZI and snatched his hand back. His sudden outburst had you reaching for him again, at least to stabilize him, but he had already scrambled up from his prone position, his eyes wide with shock. "What are you doing?" he blurted out, still wincing from the collision.

You opened your mouth to explain, but Echo cut you off, raising his hand to halt your words. He glanced down at his hand, then back at you, his cheeks coloring slightly.

Echo noticed the questioning look on your face and quickly averted his eyes. His voice carried a biting edge as he stammered, "I-It’s not clean."

Like every clone you’d ever met, Echo was a terrible liar.

You were about to respond when Hunter intervened, patting Echo on the shoulder with a light-hearted remark. "Glad to see you're okay." This gave Echo the perfect opportunity to divert attention from the awkward moment.

As AZI began to relay the results of his scan, your gaze lingered on Echo. You leaned back, puzzled by his intense reaction. During your time together, Echo had never before recoiled from such a simple touch. Well except once.

Echo soon walked off with his brothers, his attention drifting as he replayed the moment you had taken his gloved finger into your mouth. The warmth that spread through him was something he thought the Techno Union's modifications had stolen for good. For the most part, his duties as a soldier kept him from thinking about it.

When the Batch reunited with you after Order 66, Echo knew he was feeling what you had when he was lost at the Citadel. His feelings only became more reoccurring.

He would be lying if he said he’d never thought back to the singular night the two of you used each other as a distraction. For Echo, it wasn’t just a distraction, you were so much more to him. You saw him as more than a number and he saw you for the soul you were beyond a Jedi. Fearless, proud, and beautiful. But he also saw you for what you were, a Jedi bound by selflessness.

Before Skako Minor, during a night spent in a medbay. Echo had been severely injured and, late that night you snuck in to see him. The weight of almost losing him overwhelmed you, and comfort turned into an embrace that quickly heated into staying the night wrapped around each other.

In the gray light of dawn, and under the threat of being discovered, you had mutually decided to confine that intimacy to just one night. However, Echo found himself frequently revisiting that decision. The memory of how you looked beneath him, the feel of your body pressed against his—these thoughts had been his companions through many lonely nights on the battlefield.

The warmth your mouth stoked in him spread, reminiscent of the heat from a kiss—his mouth on yours and then not just his fingers.

To be exact, the warmth of your mouth felt like it was around his cock. Even though your lips had touched him only briefly, his world narrowed to nothing but the memory of you.

A part of him felt undeserving and ashamed. You loyally spent years beside him, followed him to join the Bad Batch, and saw him as your most trusted friend. He wondered what you’d think if you knew what had transpired in him.

As the evening faded and days passed, you watched Echo, noting the careful neutrality he maintained in his interactions. He brushed off the incident as if it were nothing, but you weren’t fooled. You remembered too well the last time he had reacted like this.

After the night you spent exploring each other, the next time you whispered close to him, he had jumped as if blasted in the ass. He'd stammered some feeble excuse before quickly excusing himself. This time, though, you were determined not to let history repeat itself without a proper resolution.

This time you weren’t letting him off so easily. The war was over. You were no Jedi and he was not bound by his role of a soldier.

You were kind enough to wait until you got him alone to push him. A few days after the incident, you finally noticed Echo heading towards the Marauder by himself. You made no attempts at hiding your presence, in fact you sing-songed his name on sight. When the only response was a soft chuckle and an “Over here,” you continued towards Echo.

He sat at the navigational screens, only turning slightly as you neared him. You smiled and leaned down, positioning yourself to look over his left shoulder for a shared view of the screens. The unexpected rush of emotions—loud heartbeats and butterflies—surprised you.

Before second thoughts could hold you back, you reached out and gently touched his shoulder, your hand trailing down his arm until it rested over his. "Echo," you whispered softly.

At your touch, his back straightened. You angled your face close to his, maintaining the contact. You kept your hand over his until he finally turned to look at you, his expression a mixture of caution and curiosity. His head still faced forward as you delicately laced your fingers through his.

He reared his head and looked at you full on, his pale hazel eyes wide. Maintaining eye contact you picked up his hand in yours and pulled his glove off with your other. A light pink mark running up his forefinger was all that was left of his gash.

You turned his hand over, inspecting the healing mark, then looked back to him. Echo swallowed and you couldn’t help doing the same.

"I’m glad to see it’s healing," you commented softly, your thumb tracing the faint line. "Looks clean, too."

"What are you doing?" Echo's voice was tense, a sharp contrast to his usual composure.

At the same time, you asked, "What happened when I touched your hand the other day?"

Echo’s grip on your hand tightened, pulling you a fraction closer, almost as if he was challenging you. "You didn’t just touch me," he said, a hint of accusation in his tone.

You blinked at him, not suppressing your there it is smile. “What did I do then, Echo?”

His usual straightforwardness faltered, making this avoidance all the more telling. He sighed and his grip loosened slightly. "Please, just let it go," he pleaded, trying to pull away.

But you were quick to act, gliding your tongue along the length of his finger, a bold move that turned his hand rigid in yours. You ended with a soft kiss pressed to his lips, cherishing the contact and the rush of emotions it brought.

It took a bit of courage for you to meet his eyes again, lips still on his finger.

His eyes were shut, lips pressed tight, and heat scorched his cheeks. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was suffering. The thought made you panic.

Feeling suddenly foolish, crouched before him with just the simple kiss of his hand, you realized the irony of the situation. You had been far more intimate before, yet now, in this small gesture, you felt incredibly vulnerable. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you kissed his skin again, softly whispering an apology.

“It made me think of you,” Echo's voice broke through the silence, a choked and hurried confession as his eyes fluttered open to briefly plead with the unknown before settling intensely on you. “When you licked my cut,” he continued with a heavy sigh, surrendering to the moment, “it made me think of our night in the medbay.”

That night had only been spoken of maybe twice over the years. During the war, you both had buried any thoughts of what could have been without the conflict. Because, without the war, you wouldn’t have Echo. But that hadn’t stopped you from recalling the things he whispered to you, or from clinging to the memory of how he felt during lonely nights.

Gently, you rolled his hand over to press his palm against your cheek, turning to kiss his touch tenderly. “Is that a bad thing?”

Echo leaned closer, his prosthetic arm pressing lightly against your shoulder, grounding the moment with its weight. “Of course not,” he replied sternly, his voice softening. “It’s just—”

“Because I like the idea of you remembering,” you interjected before he could voice his doubts.

His hesitation wavered as he searched your face, looking for something that might tell him this was real—that it was okay to feel this way. Finally, a gentle smile broke through his stoic facade, and he whispered back, "So do I."

Smiling into his skin you stuck your tongue out and licked him again. “And this?” You said between kisses.

His eyes fluttered at the sensation. “It doesn’t feel like that’s my finger.”

The sight of him, relaxing back and a smile on him made you pounce. You took two of his fingers into your mouth this time and he took a sharp breath as he watched his fingers disappear past your lips. Echo felt you hum and a shudder ran through him.

Echo withdrew his hand, leaned forward, and scooped you up by your arms. He effortlessly lifted you, pressing you against the control panel of the Marauder. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned in, his face hovering inches from yours, his gaze dropping to your lips

Overcome by the moment, you instinctively pulled your legs over his hips, drawing him closer. His hand moved quickly, silencing the beeping controls and sealing the hatch with a soft click, ensuring privacy.

"Careful," you whispered, your voice a playful taunt, even though you were completely alone. "Your training is showing, trooper."

Echo's response was a low chuckle, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. "Say my name, please," he requested, his voice thick with emotion, turning the moment into a deeply personal plea rather than a mere flirtation.

You whined out a yes and said, “Echo.” Before pressing your lips to his. You felt him groan softly, his tension melting away as he leaned into the kiss with ease. His tongue sought yours without hesitation, initiating a deep, earnest exploration rather than a wild rush. Each moment was about savoring the taste and feel of one another, deepening the connection that had been simmering between you for so long.

Echo eventually pulled back slightly, his nose brushing against yours in a tender gesture. "I think I've known since the moment we met," he confessed softly, his breath mingling with yours.

Your one hand slid up to his face, gently kissing, “And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

Echo responded by capturing your bottom lip gently with his before he released it to murmur, "That I’d fall in love with you."

The words resonated deeply, sending a shockwave through your entire being. Every cell seemed to freeze, the significance of his admission striking a profound chord within you. On a reflex, you pulled back, creating a small space between you as you placed your hands on his shoulders to gently push him away.

Echo’s expression quickly changed to alarmed as he blinked at you, eyebrows raised. When he started asking what was wrong, your hands fell to your pelvis with fingers quickly working at your pants.

His breath hitched as he realized what was going on and made enough space for you to pull your legs back and wiggle out of your pants. Your pants hadn’t hit the ground and he’d already pulled at his own clothes enough to expose himself fully to you.

Neither of you broke eye contact as you nestled back together. A smile and hum bubbled from you when you felt him glide over you.

Echo, leaning on his hand for support, choked out a curse when he felt you drip over him. Using your legs as leverage around him, you slid against him before positioning yourself at the head of his cock.

With your hands cradling the sides of his face, your thumbs gently stroking his cheeks, you looked as if you may plead for your life. In a way you were.

“Say it again,” you whispered, your voice a blend of demand and desperation.

Echo responded to the urgency in your voice, his actions mirroring the intensity of his emotions. As he closed the distance between you, joining your bodies slowly and thoroughly, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. Though it felt like both of you could barely breathe, Echo's voice emerged clear and warm, filled with unwavering conviction.

"The moment I laid eyes on you, I fell in love with you," he confessed again, each word deliberate and heartfelt,

The words themself sent a thrill through you, they hit you so hard you swore you could’ve came. You bit back a moan and he responded by pulling out a few inches and steadily pushing into you. He picked up a rhythm and his metallic arm steadied you against him.

Your hands held onto his shoulders for support as you pulled him into a kiss. Your body felt like it was thrumming, every move he made pulled a noise from you in some way as you came undone for him.

“Echo.” His name was a panicked plea.

"Yes?" He replied, his forehead resting against yours, both of you sharing quick, shallow breaths in the intimate space.

Your eyebrows drew together, your fingers tightening on his shoulders as the words spilled from you, heavy and raw. "I’m so in love with you."

It was Echo this time that stilled, his sudden stop left him throbbing inside you.“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever met.” He said in awe of you. It felt like he released something deep inside him by allowing himself to say that. His eyes squeezed shut as another shudder ran through him. He let out a controlled breath. “I’m about to-”

It was you who now moved below him with quick, small thrusts, “If you love me, do it inside.”

Echo dropped his hand to your hip and rammed himself fully inside you in one last thrust. The entire time he’d been inside you he had been stretching you, but him fully sheathed and pressing deep inside you was the point of no return. You writhed against him and contracted around him.

“A-Are you?” Was all he could manage when he felt another sudden wave of pleasure.

“Uh-huh,” was all you could utter through the thrill of your orgasm. Knowing you were cumming for him, on him, made Echo move against you again, throbbing and filling you again to the point his cum finally spilled out of you.

Your foreheads touched, still caught in each other’s close orbit, and for a few moments ou simply breathed in unison, the storm of emotions settling into a calm. Echo looked into your eyes, his gaze steady and clear.

“That was a long time coming,” Echo said, his voice low and sincere. There was a hint of wonder, as if he was still processing the reality of the moment. The quiet between you was comfortable as you started pulling yourselves together.

As Echo buckled his gear back up he said in a teasing tone, “So, should we schedule our next confession for a few years from now or just surprise each other like today?”

Your laughter rang out. “Maybe without so many life-or-death settings.”

Echo’s eyes met yours again, reflecting a shared happiness and a forward-looking optimism. It was clear that whatever the future held, you would face it together, with no hesitations and no barriers between you.

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #bad batch #the bad batch echo #the bad batch x reader #echo x reader #tbb echo x reader #tbb reader insert #echo x you #tbb echo

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stray-kaz · 2 years ago

Text

Memento Mori : a Kaz Brekker x f!reader oneshot

A/N: A request! Thank you for this idea!

Summary: Reader is poisoned by a rival gang leader hoping to force Kaz to his knees by taking you down. Kaz is afraid and murderous, a fatal combination.

Reader’s nickname, because of her profession, is Bee. (And it’s just easier sometimes to allow use of some kind of name instead of being constantly vague).

Memento mori: remember you must die.

Warnings: Violence, blood, near death. Poisoning. Kaz near breaking point.

Inej flew up the stairs in the Slat to Kaz’s quiet office, Jesper tearing after her, coattails flying out behind him. Matthias waited at the bottom of the flight, your limp, still form in his arms. Nina stood next to him, sweat beading on her forehead as she pressed both hands hard down against your heart.

“I am not a healer, I am not a healer, I am not a healer” she kept muttering.

“You’re all she has” Matthias reminded her gently. “Just keep going.”

Kaz looked up from the ledger he was filling in, irritation written all over his features, when Inej and Jesper burst in, panting. They had run all the way from the bottom of the Barrel.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“It’s Bee” Jesper managed to gasp out. “Talyss stung back.”

Kaz stood with such force his chair skidded away and toppled over. He grabbed his cane from its position leaning against his desk and pushed between Jesper and Inej, making his way down the stairs faster than they’d seen before.

He didn’t make a misstep and he didn’t stumble or fall, but when he saw you, Kaz wondered briefly if this was what death felt like. His hands shivered inside his gloves as he raised a hand to remove an errant curl from your forehead. Nina stared; it was the tenderest thing she had ever seen him do. He loved you.

“My room” Kaz rasped, and stepped aside so that Matthias could carry you upstairs, Nina edging along the banister so she could keep your heart going.

Inej was just finishing preparing Kaz’s bed when you were laid down gently on top of it. She covered up to your waist with a heavy blanket and Nina sank down beside you, her skirts rustling around her.

Kaz hovered like a ghost in the doorway of his own bedroom, watching your face, wan and lax. Your eyes rolled beneath their lids, and just as he was about to bite his tongue, come closer and hold your hand, Wylan skidded into the room and did just that. His knees slammed onto the wooden floorboards and, bright eyes wild, fluffy hair in disarray. He squeezed your hand and you whimpered, still unconscious.

Kaz took a threatening step into the room, but Jesper moved to block him, shaking his head firmly. Kaz glared at him, but for once, Jesper didn’t flinch.

“He’s her friend” he said quietly.

It was true, and Kaz knew it. Wylan was his chemist, bombmaker, demo man. And you were his poison maker, his sting, and the love of his abominable life. You worked with Wylan most days and were more now like brother and sister. He loved you, too.

Wylan looked up at Jesper then, an idea sparking in his eyes.

“You can take the poison” he said, looking suddenly a little feverish himself.

Jesper glanced uneasily around the room as he suddenly felt all eyes on him. He rocked back on his heels, met Kaz’s implacable gaze.

“I’ve never done it” he beseeched, spreading his hands out wide. “This is what killed my mother, Kaz.”

He felt a tug on his hand and glanced down at Wylan.

“You wouldn’t need to take all of it, Jesper. She practices with poisons every day, taking small amounts to build up immunity, always with an antidote to hand. Tonight, you are the antidote. She just needs enough gone for her system to start fighting on its own” he told him.

Jesper looked at Kaz again; he said nothing. Jesper sighed quietly and gently nudged Inej out of the way so he could sit opposite Nina and clasp your other hand. He closed his eyes and concentrated, feeling his way along the channels of your veins, almost able to taste the metals in your blood. Fine dark veins rose on the back of your hand and your eyes flew open to stare at Jesper. You tried to pull your hand away, but he held fast, swallowing hard against the pain.

Kaz’s jaw clenched so tight he thought he felt a tooth crack when your first cry rent the air. Tears spilled over your lashes and onto your cheeks, and you tried again and again to pull away from Jesper, but he was stronger than you and could sense the end of it.

Wylan held tightly to your other hand and Matthias stood sentinel behind him, a stony set to his jaw, though his eyes were worried. Kaz had never seen you cry tears of pain. He had never heard the animal sounds wailing out of you, howling at the walls and the window. He had never seen you break.

He tightened his grip on his cane. He was going to find Talyss and his band of thugs, beat him nearly to his grave and then pour his poison down his throat to send him the rest of the way.

As he turned to leave, he felt a hand lightly brush his sleeve and looked to see Nina. He raised his eyebrows impatiently, waiting.

“Bee is strong enough” Nina said steadily. “There is hope for her, Kaz.”

He merely shook off her hand and spoke over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Hope is dangerous, Nina.”

As Dirtyhands made his way to the bottom of the Barrel, gutter dwellers avoided eye contact and leapt out of his way, edging back into the shadows. He heard the whispers as he passed, cold fury and determination disguising his limp. There were those nearby him who knew why he was there and those who had no idea and were terrified to see him. Either way, both types of people hid their faces and did their best to remain undetected.

The door to Talyss Novak’s converted warehouse was locked, which didn’t surprise or deter Kaz. Normally, he’d go quiet and careful, but tonight he didn’t care for quiet or careful. He didn’t reach for his lockpicks, he simply hefted his cane in both hands and swung it at the door handle. It crunched under the weight of the crow’s head and the inner lock clattered onto the floor on the other side.

Kaz pushed the door out of his way with the toes of one shoe and stepped across the dark threshold, cane still gripped tightly in one fist. His other hand had slipped into his pocket, gloved fingers tightening slightly around the vial of poison he had picked up from the workshop you shared with Wylan along the way. He had no idea if it was the same poison or what it did, but judging by the thick red “!!!” on the white label, it would hurt.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he twisted out from under it, wrenching slightly but not caring. He swung the cane like a truncheon and felt something give wetly under his strength. There was a strangled scream and then they all came out of nowhere, trying their best to take down the bastard of the Barrel. But Kaz would not be taken anywhere tonight. He could smell blood, and he wanted it all, the sounds of your pain still ringing in his ears.

When there were bodies heaped around his feet, some still and noiseless, some groaning pitifully, he reached down and grabbed the coat collar of the most alive one. He moved in nice and close, face blood stained and dripping.

“Your boss” he hissed, teeth bared. “Now.”

A weak hand pointed towards a twisting stair shaped shadow and Kaz dropped him back to the hard concrete floor and stepped away, the men already forgotten.

The staircase was quiet and he could hear the soft sound of blood on his glove slipping on his heavy cane. He reached the top and moved silently along the landing, again reaching for the poison in his trouser pocket. A door at the furthest end of the hallway stood ajar. His instincts screamed that the worst of Novak’s men would be behind that door, but he could not bring himself to care. They would all die.

As he approached the dark side of the door, he heard his name spoken.

“Brekker.”

The door swung open and a single lone man appeared, backlit by the interior. With a flick of his thumb, Kaz released the tiny vial stopper and circled finger and thumb around the glass neck.

“How’s your girlfriend? Still breathing? Or dead as a dormouse?”

Kaz walked forward slowly, clenching his teeth against the pain of hiding his limp. Peripheral room checks told him he was alone with Talyss. The man was a maniac, or stupid. Kaz was betting on the latter.

“Did you really think you could take me down by removing my sting? Novak, I don’t need anyone. You made a mistake thinking that I do.”

“Then why’re you here, Dirtyhands?”

“To make you pay for that mistake.”

Kaz decided to temporarily forgo use of his cane; instead he struck with his other hand, shoving the vial with its contents into Novak’s mouth, swallowing hard against the bitter bile that rose in his throat as his gloved hand forced the man’s jaw up and shut and he heard the splintering of glass plink against his teeth.

Novak screamed through closed lids, Kaz’s hand tightening even harder. Thirty seconds dripped past and Novak finally wrenched himself away, opening his mouth to spit glass and a damp pinkish mist. He coughed, choking, and Kaz realised enough glass had been inhaled to perforate his lungs. Talyss Novak was drowning in his own blood, before the poison even did its work.

Kaz helped him along a little; he lifted his cane and lightly prodded the older man in the centre of his chest with the solid flat end. It didn’t take much prodding before he was flat on his back on the cold rough concrete, rasping blood soaked air in through piecemeal lungs.

Kaz stepped closer and leaned over him, watching until his eyes started to stare and his chest stopped spasming. Then he turned and walked out the way he came, blood and fear pounding in his ears.

When Kaz finally staggered back in through the doorway of his bedroom in the Slat, he saw you sitting up in his bed, leaning heavily against Jesper’s chest but rosy cheeked, damp hair sticking to your forehead. Your eyes were opioid bright, glossy and damp looking, but they focused on him with the ferocity he was used to, and something loosened inside his chest. He opened his mouth, and what came out surprised all of them, but most of all him.

“Please.”

Nina held you up while Jesper eased out from behind you, then plumped several pillows up behind your back and shoulders. Inej briefly touched your shoulder and Wylan blew you a kiss. Nina leaned hard on Matthias as they walked out of the room, followed by the other three.

Alone finally, Kaz shed his cane and coat and almost collapsed onto the bed next to you. He retained his gloves, which you understood; in your current state, sweating and clammy, the touch of your skin on his would remind him too much of Jordie. But he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you down onto his chest, and held on as tightly as he thought you could cope with.

You sighed.

“Is the problem dealt with?” you asked quietly, your voice sounding uncomfortable and hoarse.

Kaz scoffed a chuckle and nodded.

“Yes. The problem is dealt with. No more stinging the stinger.”

“Good. ‘Cause it pretty much sucks.”

Kaz tipped your chin up slightly so he could see your eyes, his expression serious.

“You will improve your immunity” he said, a statement and not a question. “I do not want to do that again.”

What he meant was: I will not survive your near death again. If you die, I will also.

You gazed back at him and nodded.

“I will” you promised. “Never again, Kaz.”

He nodded back, leaned his head on the wall of pillows and closed his eyes, settled for now with the knowledge of you safe in his arms.

Tagging: @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x female reader #liss writes #shadow and bone fic #soc fic #six of crows

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chrystal-ink · 25 days ago

Text

Shadow x GN reader

Sleepy / Wish

A double feature fic This came out slightly more angsty than I originally intended but honestly I'm not mad

-Enjoy (with a little mood music)

The music swelled as you rested your head on Shadow's shoulder, the living room was entirely dark the only source of light was the television which omitted a soft glow illuminating the two of you in a pale blue light.

You stopped paying attention to the movie ages ago, you had been busy all day and the exhaustion was finally catching up to you. You felt your limbs grow heavy, your eyelids becoming more impossible to keep open by the second.

"Do you need to go to bed?" Shadow asked sensing your growing tiredness.

"No, there's only twenty minutes of the movie left I can make it."

You did not.

Shadow picked you up from the couch, thankful that you decided to put on your pajamas before the movie started. He carried you into your shared bedroom and gently placed you on the bed before removing your gloves and placing them on your nightstand.

He pulled the blankets around you tucking you in before placing a kiss between your ears.

The sound of your gentle snoring serenading him as he got himself ready for bed. You were embarrassed about the fact that you snored he found it comforting a sweet reminder that you were still here, still alive on the nights where his nightmares would jolt him awake before you could comfort him.

He memorized your snore knowing that one day he would never be able to hear it again. But he would remember it and remember you for all your perfections, all your flaws, all the times you would drive him crazy, and the times you would comfort him. He loved you all of you and nothing could ever change that.

Shadow climbed into bed wrapping his arms around you pulling you into a sweet embrace.

"good night Y/N I love you so damn much." He whispered before drifting off to sleep.

✨

The stars were shining brilliantly in the night sky. A soft breeze blew the wisteria branches filling the air with the sweet aroma of the flower.

You were watching the stars intensely waiting for the meteor shower to begin. A blanket lovingly draped over your shoulders by your partner fought off the chill of the nighttime.

Shadow refused to wear his blanket insisting he was fine, you knew he was just trying to stay awake, he had been up for awhile his mission took longer than expected meaning he had to skip taking a nap before your date. he refused to miss your date despite your protests. He already had trouble sleeping he shouldn't deprive himself more then he has to, but try telling that to the ultimate lifeform.

"You can take a nap sweetheart, the meteor shower isn't supposed to start for another hour."

"No, I want to watch this with you."

"I'll wake you up I promise. I know how you can get when you're tired you should rest please, for me."

You gave Shadow the biggest puppy eyes you could muster.

"fine. But wake me up when you see the first one got it."

"got it."

He laid down resting his head on your lap your hand reached down stroking his quills humming a lullaby. Within a few minutes shadow had drifted off to sleep, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, like all his problems didn't exist like all the pain he's been through had gone away. You wish you could take all the pain away or at least prevent More from happening.

You knew that he was immortal and that one day he would lose you. you hated the thought of leaving him like that knowing that he would have to live his life moving on from all the people he cared about.

You wished that you were immortal too so that you could be there with him through it all. that he wouldn't have to go through time alone. You would never tell Shadow that, he would scold you telling you that it was a bad idea and that you shouldn't have to live like that with him.

So you kept that wish to yourself. Every birthday candle, every shooting star you wished upon you wished for the same thing hoping that one day fate would smile upon you granting your wish so that shadow could finally get the happy ending he deserved. It was a longshot but who knows, stranger things have happened.

You looked down smiling at the slumbering black hedgehog who stole your heart wrapping him up in his blanket and kissing his cheek.

You continued stroking his head as you looked back up at the sky. Watching for the first shooting star to signal your partner back to the waking world and watch the night that was beautifully gifted to the both of you.

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #shadow #sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #x reader #not beta read #light angst #Spotify

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painted-flag · 4 months ago

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Duty is the Death of Love - Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist.

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x unnamed bracken!oc

✧.* summary: the fruits of passion are turned rotten from betrayal.

✧.* word count: 2.2k

✧.* note: angst, angst, and more angst stoked with forbidden love.

Her grief started as confusion. Waves of uncertainty moved through her brain. It was a mistake. All a mistake. The message had to have been wrong. There was no way her reality had morphed into this twisted hellscape. Yet, she reminded herself of the fickleness that lay in peace. Times of unity are nothing but falseness. Peacetime, another word that men used while havoc lay dormant; a sleeping beast waiting for vanity and envy to claw at their throats.

Situations could go awry at any moment. One slip up and suddenly the price of consequence is dealt. Men fight men, such is the march of time. A result of that conflict may be measured by the severity of the interaction. The God's exact justice in the cruellest of ways. Violence - unmitigated and gratuitous - is an affront to the God's.

That is their language to speak, not men.

Yes, situations could go wrong. So terribly wrong. But her family had appeased the gods daily. Earned their favour through rigorous prayers and offerings. She had knelt, every morning and night, in service and prayer to the seven. Her dedication enshrined her very being.

Why must they exact their retribution by taking everything from her?

Just that morning, she had broken her fast with her twin, Aeron. She had joked with him and planned their week together. There was nary a time when the two were not joined at the hip. All it took was one afternoon separated for her life to crumble like the many ruins laid bare through the Riverlands.

The news came swiftly, a sign of the stranger. She had been diligently stitching a new set of gloves for Aeron when they carried his body into the great hall of Stone Hedge. She did not understand it all - could not understand it. Just hours ago he had been breathing; warm and there. The cold corpse in front of her was not her brother, it could not be true.

His face, one she came to know dearly, would no longer look upon her with care. The sun from his eyes and the comfort from his words were no more. Death was odd to her. A complex system of contradictions came from the mark of the stranger.

Death was a tragedy for those gifted with youth, yet a point of victory for the aged.

It was in this sorrow of death she discovered an unwilling truth; her gods were false. How could her family carry centuries of servitude and be wronged like this? Perhaps it was a punishment from the old gods, that House Bracken had forsaken their originals and sided with the seven - sealing fates of evil vengeance.

The Battle of the Burning Mill was what men called it. Their need for grand titles trumped the yards of bodies now either buried or burned.

She had been locked in her chamber for an undetermined amount of time, watching the trees shake in the wind from her viewpoint. There was an unspoken question she dared not to explore. Conflicting reports were discussed regarding the exact nature of how the battle broke. However, one indisputable fact was that Aeron Bracken and Benjicot Blackwood had exchanged words. The details of those words are muddled, but the outcome is easily perceived by the field of fallen men.

On the morning of a new day, she found herself wandering the moors like a ghost in the night. One could have mistaken her for a banshee should they have seen her the day her twin’s body arrived. Never in her years of living had she shrieked so horribly, sobbed so deeply that the salty tears burned tracts down her glass skin. Now, her throat felt torn and she could no longer muster a single noise.

The sky hung slate and sad. Gray clouds dripped down to form fog and enshrined all around; a gossamer veil clung to the trees. The sun, like her brother, was smothered by the evil weather around - taken when needed most. Sleets of rain refused to fall.

The gods would not weep for men.

She remembered the gleam of his sword so clearly. A gift she had commissioned for their name day. All the coins collected throughout the year went into that gift and it was what killed him. Her gift killed her brother - pierced through his throat like a needle to cloth. She questioned ever getting it for him in the first place.

Those thoughts clouded her mind as she strode through the thicket. There was one destination in mind - a location she had kept hidden from everyone, including Aeron. Beside a rocky cutout with a small flowing waterfall lay a tiny meadow. The coming winter had seen all the flowers gone, but her memories of this place remained warm.

Viewing it, she could see the past flicker through her vision. Wandering hands, heated passion. The warmth of comforting strong arms wrapped around her body as she lay on a blanket in the grass with her lover. The trysts between her and Benjicot Blackwood were supposed to be nothing but meaningless bouts of built-up passion being expended.

However, the more his breath brushed her skin between kisses that trailed over her body, her heart and soul bonded to him. Ben had also relished in it, having confessed to reciprocating those feelings after a particularly long night of coupling in the hot spring behind the waterfall. She believed - truly - that what they had stretched beyond their houses ancient grudge.

What a silly little dream.

Her tragic reminiscence was interrupted by nearing footfalls. She turned to see the object of all her desires and the bringer of her current ire standing at the break of trees. He was visibly injured, with several bruises and countless cuts marring his exposed arms, neck, and face.

A whirlwind of emotions surged over her. A deep and unyielding love overpowered it all, but the feel of his touch - as he went to wrap her in his arms - pulled her free from that reverie. She shoved violently against his chest, pushing him away from her. Ben’s face, once relieved and calm, morphed into confusion.

“Why?” Her voice cracked. Its previous use through screaming in mourning had worn down on her body.

Ben tilted his head. His tongue moved across his chapped lips, “None of it was supposed to happen.”

A forced laugh burst forth from her mouth, which was quickly replaced by swelling anger, “Not meant to happen? Don’t be so absurd, Blackwood.” Her omission of the use of his first name came like a slap upon his face.

“I am telling the truth, I always will tell you the truth. It was not meant to happen.” Ben shook his head.

She regarded his figure for a few moments. The person in front of her was a shimmering reflection of the man she had known not long ago. The body that once stood with confidence swayed with uncertainty and pain. The physical remains of the battle he endured did not come close to the marks branded on his mind from the violence witnessed; the violence that washed across him like an unyielding tidal wave.

Ben swallowed, “Your brother…” You closed your eyes in pain, but he continued, “I’m sorry for your loss, for your house's loss… Everything happened so quickly.”

She watched as he moved back towards her, hesitantly this time. Once only a few inches from her, he went to reach out but stopped short. There was a time when she would curse such a distance between them, no matter how short. A time when all she wished was to remain next to him until her dying days.

Benjicot, who had pushed down the walls of their hate and built up a foundation of pure, unaltered love.

Benjicot, who had been the man to share in all her firsts.

Benjicot, who swore his mind, body, and soul to her for as long as he shall live.

Benjicot, who had slain her twin brother, throwing all the previous into an abyss of disregard.

“I fought to come back. I couldn’t lose you.” His words, while meant as a comfort, cut her deeper than any sword ever could.

“You lost me the moment you plunged that sword into Aeron’s throat. You killed me then, as well.” Tears had begun to fall down her reddened cheeks. The aggression in her voice did not match her face. Her look was nothing but anguish.

Ben’s brows furrowed and the accusation laid heavy on his heart. “You believe it was I who killed your brother?”

Her heart felt like it was tied to a rope and thrown into the depths of the ocean. As it sunk beneath the waves like an anchor, pieces of it broke off. They scattered in all directions. The lower her heart sank, the more fragile it became. Down lower and lower, breaking piece by piece.

“Can you tell me, with all that truth you swear to possess, that it was not you?”

Ben did not answer. His eyes, once so focused on her face, cast down to the ground as he hung his head in shame. The voiceless confirmation was enough for her to know. The rest of her heart then broke up and every bit wandered to the ocean floor - away from the light’s gentle caress - until there was nothing left but the rope it was once tied to.

“I never wish to see your face again. What we had…” She paused to swallow a sob that threatened to escape, “What we had never existed. It's nothing, like you are to me.”

It was almost laughable how much of a lie that was. No matter the crime, the slaughter of her family and house, what she felt for Benjicot would never go away. No amount of animosity or betrayal could erase the simple fact that her body and soul longed for him. It called out for him like a siren on rocky shores.

She moved back, for if she did not separate herself from him soon she would forsake all her previous words and fall into his arms; recreating all those previous nights they had shared. The honour of allegiance to her family and house was stronger than her personal feelings. Without so much as a goodbye, she turned to walk away.

The sound of a thud made its way to her ears. She could not turn around, could not look into his eyes. The sound of heavy and pained breathing made her return her gaze to him. Benjicot was on his knees in the dew-laden grass. Anguished painted his beautiful face. The carved cheeks she once thought carved by the gods were sunken. Despite making it out of the battle alive, his countenance reflected that of a corpse.

She watched as his hands reached down to the blade strapped to his hilt. He pulled the sword out of its sheath and gripped the blade. The hilt was presented to her, an offering waiting to be taken. Ben took a moment to control his breathing.

“Take it,” His voice wobbled with each word. This was the first time she had ever seen him cry. It did not look right - like the action itself should have never even been thought of. Pain did not look good on him.

“Take it and cut me down, my love.” He nearly sobbed out the words, “Send me to whatever Hell is waiting for what I have done to you.”

The blade reflected the dullness of the grey sky above. He had given her the opportunity to use his own blade against him; like some sense of poetic justice. Poetic justice would not bring her brother back. Poetic justice would not right the wrong that had befallen both of their houses.

Poetic justice could never bring her back to what they had just a few short days ago.

She walked back to him and looked down upon his form. In his eyes was nothing but trust. He gazed upon her with a softness like never before. Her heart began to beat erratically. The palms of her hands became clammy and the once rigid stance she held began to crumble. Her hand reached out but stopped just short of the hilt.

Ben moved it to touch her palm, “Cut me down and end your pain. I have hurt you, and for that, I must die.”

She remembered the vow he swore to her all those moons ago. A secret marriage only they and the gods witnessed during the hour of the wolf in this very meadow. He swore everything to her and promised to protect her no matter the cost. Protect her no matter the cost. How quickly it took for men to go back on their word.

She reached out and gripped the sword in her hand. It almost dropped to the ground, for she was not used to such a weight. Ben’s chest heaved in sync with hers. Their hearts beating together, perhaps for the last time.

Every fibre of her being screamed to stop. To abandon this foolishness, fall to her knees and wrap him in her arms. In spite of that, the faces of all of House Bracken’s men, the ones who lay dead, flickered across her vision. In the end, Aeron’s face remained. Once again, the feeling of rage that had dissipated returned with rigorous fire. She had an obligation to all those who died, to all the ancestors that came before her to exact justice as it was supposed to be. If the gods would not do it, she would. A familiar phrase brushed her memory which she heard long ago.

Duty is the death of love.

She raised the steel and made her choice.

____________

✧.* end note: not edited because i wrote this in a fever haze while coughing like no tomorrow. sorry for any glaring errors.

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