#fic: Good Boy
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Good Boy | Vernon
Pairing: Vernon x (f)reader
Genre: good ol’ smut and fluff
AU: idol!au, established relationship
Wordcount: 3.3k
Summary: You visit your boyfriend on tour after two months away and find out something interesting about him.
Warnings: language. Some good ol’ smut. Unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP). nicknames. Praise kink. Vernon’s a rough boy sometimes. He calls her his plaything. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Other sexy stuff I’m sure.
Rating: M / 18+
AN: this is a bts blog. this was a bts blog. now we are chaos and we are confused and horny. enjoy. thank you bby @playmetheclassics for beta-reading and dealing with me screaming and crying over Stage Vernon. Also tagging @yoongimingyu and @the-boy-meets-evil bc y'all made me do it. and @sugarwithtea bc 💜
I'm going to have to make a Seventeen masterlist. 🥲
and of course, banner and divider by @classicscreations
Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee?
You land on the bed with a soft thud, head hitting just below the pillow and legs dangling off the edge.
You let out a shaky laugh, watching your boyfriend stand in front of the bed and grip the back of both of your knees. He slowly brings them up, eyes locked on yours as he parts your legs enough for him to crawl onto the bed, settling on his knees and in between your legs. Your thighs find their place on his, wrapping the rest of your legs around him as he crawls to hover over you.
He stays silent while you’re locked in on his tense staring contest. He knows you hate it, much preferring it when he’s growling in your ear about everything he wants to do with you. There are two different personalities to Vernon, and you love them both, but there’s one that just destroys you, and he knows it.
Stage Vernon.
Off stage, Vernon is quiet, calm, and often in his own world in his mind. He can be very loud and hilarious when needed, especially with Seungkwan. With you, he’s the bonus of being extremely sweet and loving, always giving back hugs, and needing some sort of physical touch, even if it’s just sitting next to one another.
He’s the perfect boyfriend, even if he is oblivious sometimes and a bit shit at remembering important things, but it’s fine. You’re the same way.
Stage Vernon, however, is a problem.
Stage Vernon is a natural entertainer. Stage Vernon gets lost in the music, rapping and singing his heart out and dancing like the rent is due in an hour. And it drives you insane every time.
Stage Vernon almost always ends the shows that you attend by walking off stage, immediately looking for you, and fucking you senselessly in a random room. By the time he’s done with you, you usually find at least three bite marks near your shoulder, countless hickies across your body, and marks where his fingers had been digging into the skin on your hips from holding you still while he used all the adrenaline from the show to pound into you relentlessly. You fucking love it.
Which is why this feels different. You surprised him at a show in a different country. You were wearing your best outfit showing off his two favorite things about you, your ass and your breasts. You waited in the dressing room while they were doing soundcheck. When they came back, everyone quietly greeted you, not wanting to give away the surprise to Vernon, who was the last to enter. His eyes found yours immediately, his mouth hanging open in utter shock. Seungkwan had to push him towards you just to bring him back to reality, lifting you in his arms and swinging you from side to side as he buried his face in your neck, mumbling about how much he missed you.
The show was amazing. Of course, it was. Vernon put his all on the stage, and you watched as you usually did, absolutely amazed at his duality and the fact that he was yours. You didn’t even care that he barely looked in your section’s direction because he focused on his performance and interacting with the fans. This was his job, and he can’t be distracted by you while working.
Except you were all he could think about while on stage, which is probably why he went so hard tonight. All he could think about was getting you back to the hotel so he could have his way with you after two months apart. That’s why he didn’t look your way the whole night. That’s why he barely said anything when he got off stage, in the car ride back to the hotel, or in the elevator to your floor.
It’s not until you put the keycard into your room’s door and open it that he finally makes a sound. A low growl as he stops you from proceeding down the hall once you both step inside the room. The grasp on your wrist is tight when he pulls you back to face him and desperately presses his lips against yours and pushes you against the wall in the process.
You both moan in between fervent kisses and gasps of air. He dips down a little, hands wrapping around your thighs to pick you up and keep you pinned against the wall with his hips. Your dress quickly becomes useless and rides up to your waist just from being lifted, the straps falling off your shoulders like string.
“I missed you so much, baby.” He groans into your mouth, and you lean your head back against the wall.
You take a useless deep breath that escapes quickly when his lips move down your jawline, landing on the part of your neck he labeled the sweet spot since it always made you squirm under him. Tonight’s no different as you let out a sharp squeak, starting to struggle under the strength of him pinning you, hands tangling in his hair when he rolls his hips perfectly.
“Vernon, baby. It’s been two months, don’t make me wait any longer.” You plead into his ear, and he stills immediately.
For a second, you panic internally, thinking you ruined the moment. But he just brings his face back up to face yours, resting his forehead on yours as his eyes pierce yours.
“You think I enjoyed making us wait until we got to your room? That I enjoyed not just bending you over the couch after soundcheck in front of my hyungs and fucking you until next year?” He lifts from your forehead, returning to your neck and biting down hard before letting go, ensuring he left a mark behind.
“Or how I had to ignore an entire section of the arena because if I saw you in this fucking outfit again, I’d drag you onto the stage and show everyone what I do to you?” His lips trail down to your collarbone, lips bruising your skin on the way down.
“Do you think I haven’t lost my fucking mind these past two months without you?” After this question, the death grip on your thighs loosens only to readjust his hold on you and push you further up the wall.
“No, baby, no. I don’t mean that.” You whine, using your grasp on his hair to move him back to face you.
“I mean, I need you. Now. I need you to fuck me right now.”
His eyebrows shoot up at you, a cocky grin following suit.
“Are you trying to tell me what to do?” His tone is teasing, his hands sliding up and down the back of your thighs.
“If it gets your cock in me? Then, yes. Yes, I am telling you what to do.” You whine, trying to roll your hips for any amount of friction. But he presses further against you, making any movement impossible.
The man dares to laugh, forcing a groan out of you when his lips meet yours again.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, baby girl.” A wicked smile flashes when you pout at your boyfriend.
“You’re my little plaything, right? My little obedient plaything?”
You nod because you are, and you’re not afraid to admit it. You love when he throws you around and edges you until you cry. But you’re also needy and desperate right now and not in the mood to be played with. You missed him like crazy for two months, which is how you ended up working with Seungkwan to get you a flight out to visit.
“But an obedient plaything wouldn’t tell me what to do, would she?”
“Vernon. Please.”
“That’s better.” He grins, a small laugh escaping when you whimper against his lips. He backs away from the wall, giving you enough time to secure your legs and arms around him as he brings you to bed, giving you another kiss before he tosses you onto the bed. He sheds all of his clothes before you can fully process where you are.
When he hovers over you, your legs wrapped around his waist and thighs resting on his, you get that familiar sense of excitement again. Vernon sometimes changes his behavior in bed. You call it the secret third Vernon. Stage Vernon multiplied by ten. You love it, you hate it, you crave it, and you fear it.
Tonight’s Vernon, you’ve met a few times before it got rougher. This Vernon is slow, methodical, calm, and loving. He doesn’t bother helping you out of your dress, kissing whatever skin is exposed as he makes his way back down to lay between your legs.
You let out a series of soft moans when he lightly bites your inner thighs, tongue dancing across the marks a little before moving on to the next bite.
“Fuck, baby, please. Please, I need something. Anything.” You’re already on the verge of crying, the teasing being too much for you after such a long time away from him.
You feel him exhale a laugh against your skin, kissing the space between your thigh and where you need him most before he harshly tugs your underwear down to your knees, giving you a moment to kick it off the rest of the way. He finally places a soft kiss on your clit, your hips buck up, and he forces them back down as he dives right in, lapping up your arousal from your center and thumb coming up to play with your clit.
Your whines and moans become stronger and louder as he eats you out. You spare no thoughts or concerns for your hotel neighbors. The only important thing right now is your boyfriend’s mouth that’s buried between your folds and the fingers that are now thrusting in and out of you with no remorse.
You lift your head slightly to look down and see him work his magic. You have no idea why you open your mouth, but you can’t stop yourself from speaking as your hand tangles in his hair.
“Fuck, that’s a good boy, keep going.”
You don’t even sound like yourself when saying it. You have no clue who or what possessed you. Your eyes widen in horror as Vernon stops what he’s doing to slightly lift his head to look up at you, eyebrows raised to the top of his head.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t. I don’t—ahh, fuck.” Your head falls back onto the bed, crying out at the sudden pleasure of Vernon’s mouth sucking on your clit like his life depends on it until you’re coming around his fingers and on his tongue. He pulls off you for just a moment, quickly crawling back up your body to kiss all across your face and neck.
“Say it again.” He growls against your ear.
“What?” You question, unsure of the sudden change.
“Say it again, baby. Call me your good boy.” He groans against the skin under your ear.
“What?” You ask again, fingers dancing up and down his spine. “You wanna be my good boy?”
The guttural groan that vibrates through his chest answers your question for you. You’re thankful he can’t see your reaction right now, a huge grin plastered across your face. You whisper for him to roll over, and he does, effortlessly holding you close as he flips you both over and slides himself up the bed so he can sit against the headboard. He pulls you back on top of him, legs straddling either side of his lap.
“I thought I just said roll over, not sit up.” You smile, wrapping your arms around your neck as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling at the zipper of your dress so it comes undone
“And I said you don’t tell me what to do.” He teases back, capturing your lips again. But only for a moment because you pull away, leaving him to whine at the loss. You lift the dress over your head, tossing it somewhere off the bed.
“So I can’t tell you what to do, yet you get turned on when I call you a good boy?” You hold his chin between your thumb and index finger, tugging down slightly so his lips barely part.
“I didn’t get turned on.” He lies, his hands finding their usual grasp on your hips.
“No? Then what was that? What was that whole ‘say it again, call me your good boy’ stuff? You don’t want me telling you you’re a good boy?” You slowly roll your hips, your soaked center rubbing perfectly against his erection. “Don’t want me telling you how amazing you feel inside me? How well your perfect cock stretches me out?”
The grip on your hips tightens and you feel yourself clench around nothing when he tries to suppress his whines. His eyes shut tight when you lean forward to whisper in his ear.
“Tell me, baby. Are you a good boy that knows how to treat his girlfriend right?”
He nods quickly, exhaling a shaky breath and pulling your hips over his back and forth.
“Yeah? A good boy that knows how to make his girlfriend feel good?”
“Fuck, yes.” His words are drawn out, and his head falls back, hitting the headboard.
“Then be a good boy and prove it.” He takes barely a second to do as you say, quickly lifting your hips so he can line himself up with you and sitting you back down on his length in one go.
Your breath stops for a moment at his action, looking down to watch him rut your hips against him. You mutter a few curse words under your breath, mostly enjoying the feeling you’ve been craving for two months. He lets you take over, watching you lift your hips and bring them back down in a rhythm that has both of you losing your minds. You bring your gaze away to look up at him, his eyebrows are pinched together, and his bottom lip is perfectly tucked under his teeth. He looks so good, and the fact that he’s reacting this way because of you is a little confidence boost you don’t need but greatly appreciate.
“Feels like I’m doing all the work here, baby.” You smirk, rocking your hips once to make his breath shudder, looking up at you. “You’re not proving to be a good boy if I’m doing all the work, now are you?” You tease, watching his eyes flicker from your sweet boyfriend enjoying the feeling of you to your menace of a boyfriend that just got off stage.
In the blink of an eye, he pushes you forward so you’re on your back again, hands forced up above your head with one hand as the other grabs both of your ankles, folding your legs together up towards your chest. He gives you all of two seconds to focus on what had happened before he’s roughly shoving himself back into you, beginning the relentless pace you’ve been looking forward to since buying the plane ticket out here.
“Fuck, there he is.” You quickly say in a gasp. He laughs as he presses deeper with each thrust. You cry out, unable to move any of your limbs. You try to lift your hips more to meet him faster, but he lets go of your wrists, pinning you back down by placing his hand on your lower stomach. His thumb creeps down, finding your clit and rubbing harsh, almost circles eliciting a loud moan of his name to leave your lips.
You breathe out a warning of you being close, and he only gives a small nod because he is pulling out enough to lower his head, spitting directly on your clit before quickly resuming his harsh pace. You try lifting your hips again at the sudden shock of him spitting on you, but his hand holds you down again, his thumb finding its way back to your clit.
“Come for me, baby. I’ve missed the feeling of you coming around my cock.” He groans out the words, bringing your legs to his chest and kissing your ankle. Just that action alone is enough to quickly bring you to the edge, but it’s when he bites down just above your ankle that you feel the hot coil in you burst and you’re coming undone for him while he continues to fuck you through it.
When you’ve finally calmed down enough, he quickly pulls himself out of you, dropping your legs and parting them, so he has access to your stomach. His hand wraps around his cock and starts pumping while he grunts a series of words you barely understand.
“Good boy, baby. Come all over your plaything. You did such a good job. Come for me, baby.” You repeat your affirmations a couple of times until he finally lets out your favorite sound, a loud but deep growl followed by short gasps and moans as he comes all over your stomach. He stills for a moment before moving to your side and laying backwards next to you, neither of you care that your feet are at the headboard.
You both stay silent while catching your breath, your fingers mindlessly tracing the cum on your stomach as he watches. You’re not doing it to be sexy or try to turn him on again. It’s just a thing you do while thinking. He knows that, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t doing anything for him.
“So…” you giggle at your own thoughts, “a praise kink, huh?” you turn your head to grin at him. He sighs, resting his arm over his face to hide a laugh.
“I guess so.”
“Interesting…the rough loving dominating one wants to be told he’s a good boy. I can get used to that.”
“That’s fine, but don’t forget who has the power here.” He grumbles with an almost giggle, failing to say it seriously as he turns on his side, head resting in his hand.
“Oh, me for sure. You can’t be rough with me unless I say so. And you won’t be praised if you do anything I don’t like. All me, baby.” You grin as he stares at you, eyebrows pinched together again and mouth open in disbelief.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He concedes, and you giggle, flipping to your side, mimicking his posture to get closer to him. You cup his face with your free hand as your smile softens.
“I missed you, Vernon. So much. Two months is too long.” You whisper. You know it’s his job, touring the world and being an idol and someone everyone desires to be with. But it’d be stupid not to admit that it’s hard not seeing him every day.
“I know. I’m sorry, y/n. If I could, I’d take you everywhere with me. You’d never leave my side.” His free hand finds your waist, thumb rubbing soft circles against your skin.
“Oh, that might be too clingy there, buddy.” You giggle, easing the sadness you both feel.
“How long are you here for?” you look off to the side at the imaginary calendar in your mind.
“A week and a half. I think. I leave before you head back to Seoul.” One of his eyebrows raises at the idea of having you on tour with him for under two weeks. A mischievous grin creeps along his face as he tugs your waist closer to his.
“Then I have just under two weeks to make up for two months of neglect.” his voice lowers when he moves to kiss your neck.
“Oh, a good boy with a good plan. I like it.” You tease, cackling when he tickles you before climbing back on top of you to make good on his plan.
hope you enjoyed! lmk what you think. I love you 💜
#fic: Good Boy#Kelly writes#Seventeen#Vernon#vernon x reader#vernon x f reader#vernon x you#choi hansol#hansol x reader#vernon smut#vernon fluff#hansol smut#hansol fluff#svt smut#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt vernon#vernon x y/n#Vernon fic#hansol fic#seventeen hansol#svt fic
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One thing I LOVED about Good Boy was the Scottish folklore and mythology and how you wove all that into the Miyagi-verse, and I wondered if you had a list of sources you used, and if so could you please link them because it was so fascinating and I'd love to read more about it myself!!
I am so sorry for the delay in answering this thoughtful question.
I don't get much time with my laptop now that I have created another small human, but lil guy is sleeping at the moment so I have a sec.
Another reason for the delay is that I have been googling, trying to find a good source to recommend for you because unfortunately the real answer to your question might not be much help. Sadly, I can find a lot of single stories, but these are normally for tourism purposes and are centred around locations that can be visited. As a result, you need to know the story you are looking for and the location it is set when google searching. I had no luck finding any kind of centralised database for you.
Most Scottish landmarks will have a legend attached to them, so there is A Lot.
I have scottish ancestry and most of the stories that worked their way into Good Boy are re-mashed versions of fairytales told to me by my great aunt when I was a kid. We are one of the thousands of offshoots from the scottish disapora. So I know her versions quite well.
(but she took a lot of liberties with her versions, as all good storytellers should.)
So in compensation, here is a scottish fairytale that nearly made it into Good Boy. I tried to hard to finagle it in, but it wouldn't quite fit. however, it is one of my favourites.
Here is the link to a backpacker site's version if you want to read an official one.
And here is how it was told to me:
The Tale of Sligachan Bridge -
Once upon a time, Sgathaich was the most famous warrior in all of Scotland. Her fame grew and spread across the world. This made Cú Chulainn jealous, and he believed that HE was meant to be the best warrior ever.
And, indeed, he was considered the best warrior in all of Ireland.
He sailed to Skye to challenge Sgathaich to a fight to the death. Sgathaich found his impudence and arrogance supremely irritating and agreed.
The fighting was fearsome and brutal. The two warriors clashed again and again and the sound of their battle echoed across the Cuillins.
Sgathaich's daughter, a renowed beauty who spent her days fending of suitors with a stick, became sick of the fighting and wanted it to end, so she ran down to the river - which was known to be a fairy place.
She sobbed and cried and begged the fairies to help her stop the fighting.
"I can give you what you wish for - the ability to stop any squabble." A fairy stepped out of the waters. "But it will cost you."
"What is the price?" Asked the daughter, because there is always a price with fairies.
"Your beauty. Dip your face in the water and it will wash away everything that makes you so lovely to look upon, and in return I will give you the gift of being able to bring peace anywhere.
Sgathaich's daughter considered this a fair trade and agreed.
She dipped her face in the water and then leapt to her feet.
She knew exactly what to do!
She ran back to the castle and started throwing herbs and spices and all sorts of lovely things into a pan. (My aunt always said bacon, but vegetarians and vegans please imagine whatever deliciousness you wish). The Daughter opened all the windows and a breeze wafted the smell into the mountains where two famous warriors were still doing battle.
Sgathaich and Cú Chulainn both realised how hungry they were and agreed to a truce while the had breakfast. They followed the scent back to Sgathaich's castle.
Cú Chulainn was so enraptured with the delicious smell that he sat right down and started gobbling up the bowl that Sgathaich's daughter put before him.
Because of the highland tradition of guests rights, now that Cú Chulainn had eaten in Sgathaich's home, he could do no harm to her whilst he was on her land.
The two warriors supped and talked, and realised their squabble was silly. They agreed to respect each other's skills as warriors, lay down their arms and would fight no more.
So peace returned to Skye because of a very very very good breakfast.
And the daughter?
She was no longer beautiful, but she was the best cook in all of Skye and knew the secret to calming any squabble - a hearty breakfast and good conversation.
She found that she was fending off even more suitors that before after the gentleman tried her shortbread.
Her incredibly beauty is still floating along the waters under the Sligachan Bridge, (For truthfully, the fairy had no need of it. She just needed a price to be paid). They say that if you dip your face in the waters, you may emerge a little better looking that you were before.
So now, if you go to skye and go past the sligurachan bridge, you will see people dunking their face in the water.
The End
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HI i saw you reblog the haechan mommy fic and was absolutely floored bc it just brought me back to when the fic was first dropped. in case you didn’t know or i haven’t already voiced my opinions, THAT FIC CHANGED ME and i am forever grateful that you decided to put your time into not only writing it but sharing it with us too <3 please continue being as hot as you are <33
🥹 omg really??? djdhdhdhdh i had a lot of fun writing that one and i’m glad that even tho it flopped, there’s a lil pocket of people who love it !
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your manic pixie dream girl and nightmare bad boy all in one
I love binggeyuan sooo much. If I'm MIA, it's because I've fallen into quite the rabbit hole lately and going into hibernation!!
#my art#fan art#svsss#danmei#mxtx#binggeyuan#luo bingge x shen yuan#sorry i read so much good fic of them and it's ruined my life.#wolf boy that is a sopping wet dog x secretly very milfy otaku came for my NECK. won't lie!!#ough binghe we're in it now#been particularly mentally ill lately but this is my “nice” account so im hiding it in the tags#read nyoomerr's fics guys. pip is so good!!
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soft glow ✰ m. riddle
summary: sleepy mornings with matthéo
pairing: bf!matthéo x reader
warnings: slightly suggestive at the end, but nothing really other than that!! just tooth rotting fluff n théo who’s soft for u and no one else!! :’))
note: hi!! i’m not sure how i feel about this one but i still think it’s a lil tiny bit cute so i’m posting!! feel free to send in requests!!
masterlist
comments & reblogs are so appreciated! <3
✰ ✰ ✰
when you wake up, matthéo’s bedroom is warm with the soft glow of morning. golden rays of sunlight peek stubbornly through his drapes, and soft white noise filters steadily in through the window.
as you slowly come to, you begin to register the familiar sensation of matthéo’s touch. his calloused fingers glide almost curiously across your face; carefully tracing each curve and dip, as if to memorize your every detail.
with a soft hum, you finally blink open your eyes - squinting into the sunlight. you roll towards matthéo with a yawn, offering him a sleepy smile. “hi”
matthéo grins, smoothing a mess of tangled hair away from your face. “hi, darling.” his voice is raspy and painfully fond - and your heart aches pleasantly behind your ribcage. his hand slides casually to the back of your neck, and you quietly hope that your cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “how’d you sleep?”
“me? oh - i slept terribly” you’re aiming for deadpan in a desperate attempt to play it cool, but you wear a giddy little grin that almost certainly gives you away. “worst sleep of my life.”
“oh yeah?”
you nod with all the conviction you can muster - which admittedly isn’t much. “mhmm” with a little stretch, you’re leaning upwards to kiss his cheek. “you snore louder than my granddad.”
matthéo scoffs in mock offence, fingers poking teasingly at your side. “‘s that so?”
you nod once more, trying desperately to stifle a giggle. matthéo’s teasing is relentless, and you squirm clumsily away from his prodding fingers. in the end - it doesn’t take long for you to give in. “okay! okay - fine!” you laugh breathlessly. “you don’t snore and i had the best sleep of my life. is that what you wanted to hear?”
“yes actually. because you on the other hand - you do snore and it’s really quite loud - sort of like-”
“matthéo!” he’s being mean on purpose and you pretend to hate it. “i do not snore!”
“okay but how do you know you don’t snore, hm? i mean - if you’re asleep when it happens…” he tugs you towards his bare chest, one arm wrapped firmly around your back. “you wouldn’t really know, would you?” he punctuates his words with a soft kiss to your forehead, and you all but melt into his gentle embrace.
“i hate you.” with your face smushed against matthéo’s chest, your words come out awkward and muffled. “like - i really, really can’t stand you sometimes.”
he tugs you impossibly closer with a pleased laugh. “don’t lie, sweetheart”
“i’m not lying!”
he tilts your head upwards before slowly kissing your lips. you feel warm all over, and you chase him with a quiet whine when he pulls away. “if you really hate me, why were you screaming m-”
“you’re so awful!”
#it took me SO long to get this right for some reason#and i still don’t think it’s that good but oh well i’m posting anyways#enjoy <3#ageofstarkey writing <3#ageofstarkey harry potter <3#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle drabble#mattheo riddle blurb#mattheo riddle fanfiction#mattheo riddle fic#mattheo riddle fanfic#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle headcanon#mattheo riddle fluff#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys fanfiction#slytherin boys blurb#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin boys fanfic#harry potter
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"Good Boy"
Masterlist here
Word count: 3,200+
Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.
Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.
Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams
Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine
A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles.
Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward.
Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines.
What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket?
Because he was a good boy.
And you always informed him as such.
While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need.
Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper.
Well, his exploits at least.
Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him.
“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed.
That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most.
And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.”
He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips.
You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved.
And you said it.
You finally said it today.
His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind.
Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand.
“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you.
“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”
“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find.
“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”
“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”
He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own.
“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”
After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words.
“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either.
With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence.
“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound.
You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return.
“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?”
A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet.
Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for.
Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step.
At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him.
A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude.
“Good boy.”
From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words.
“Good boy.”
They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips.
Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips.
He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’
Until the day you didn't.
Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture.
Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles.
The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor.
This was the reason for his intense rage.
After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.
“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart.
Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment.
A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime.
“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe.
“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted.
“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”
“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”
After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles.
“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”
“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”
“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”
“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”
“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”
Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into.
“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”
“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye.
“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”
You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface.
The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention.
He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words.
Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders.
“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office.
“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.”
The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone.
Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor.
Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you.
“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”
“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess.
He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming.
“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”
Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat.
“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”
Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.
“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more.
“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence.
“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment.
He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze.
Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading.
He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves.
Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”
And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile.
“Good boy.”
#one piece#x reader#Eustass Kid#eustass kid x reader#op kid#one piece eustass kid#kid x reader#kid x gn!reader#gn!reader#one piece x reader#kid has a praise kink#he just wants to be a good boy#fic request#ask snail#snail answers#snail needs sleep
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087 - reigen takes mob out to get ramen for the first time. from another fic i’m really normal about
#freaks GET OUT OF HERE !!! this is not ship art im biting you to death#mob psycho 100#mob#reigen arataka#mp100#mod 1#i can kind of be normal about early reigen and mob’s dynamic. like . the fic writes it so well#reigen being standoffish to Not Get Attached to this small boy who makes being so kind and silly a sport#and whatever. the part abt not realizing how cold his apartment is until after he leaves the ramen shop#whatever GO READ IT !!! its so good alas i wish i colored this but that wouldve killed me
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nonsexual d/s for sub Eddie week with art here by @ent-is-indecisive
“Eddie, will you please open the door?”
“I ruined it, Steve, I messed everything up.”
“You didn’t ruin anything, baby, let me in, c’mon.”
All the music from the party almost drowns out Steve’s voice, but a small pathetic piece of Eddie clings to it like an anchor. He opens the door and Steve’s brows knit sympathetically at the state of distress Eddie's in. It’s all fucked up.
His leather sleeve is wet and sticky, he can’t stop raking his fingers through his hair, ruining the nice waves Steve styled for him earlier because he was too much of a wreck to do it himself. It’s all fucked up.
“I fucked up.”
Shaking his head, Steve comes inside and shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse, remember when Robin threw up in the middle of an audition.”
“Steve, at this point they’re gonna pay me not to make an album,” Eddie stresses, pacing around the bathroom. “I spilled wine all over the guy. Dale fucking Grazer wants to talk serious paper and shake my hand and I just emptied my stupid little glass all over him!”
“It was just wine, not puke or something,” Steve says lightly, trying to bring Eddie down from his frantic state. It works, his voice is a tether for Eddie to grab onto. “Come here, let me fix you up.”
Eddie does as Steve says, not trusting himself to make any more decisions when all he’s done today is fuck up.
Steve guides him over to the sink, wetting a towel and dabbing Eddie’s jacket. He’s so calm, like this isn’t the most important night in Eddie’s life and it’s not already blown and he can still make that hotshot from the record label like him.
Steve’s acting like everything’s fine, which makes Eddie feel stupid and small like he's overreacting, he tries to let Steve’s energy calm him too but it’s hard.
“You’re overthinking, I can see it on your face,” Steve says, being gentle but not in a coddling way that would make Eddie feel even more stupid.
He straightens out Eddie’s sleeve, good as new, then works on Eddie’s hair next. His fingers are soft and skilled and so sure, knowing exactly how to fix it and how to make Eddie melt under his touch.
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to let Steve fix everything. He's way better at fancy parties and schmoozing than Eddie is. He always knows how to get Eddie out of his head and that’s what he needs right now. As pathetic as he feels about it, he needs to stop thinking. Let Steve think for him, even.
“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Steve prompts softly and Eddie is helpless but to let it all out.
“I can’t stop saying the wrong shit. Why’d I tell him my dad’s in prison? Or bring up the dropped murder charges, or all that stuff about ket, I just can’t shut up.”
“No, that’s just you, the whole big personality charismatic rockstar thing. Trust me, that guy’s got star eyes for you.”
“This is just like with Paige’s label. I messed that up, and now I’m ruining Jeff’s chance again, and—”
“No you’re not, that guy loves Jeff already, everybody loves Jeff.”
“You’re right, he’s got this, he doesn’t need me. Let’s just get out of here, make a run for it.”
Eddie barely takes a step before Steve’s hands circle both his wrists, his grip gentle but solid, holding Eddie in place. It flips the same little switch in Eddie as the cuffs they use in the bedroom. It takes away the option to run.
Somewhere in the jumble of his mind, he knows it’s the right choice, trusting that Steve wouldn’t let him make the wrong one.
“We’re not going anywhere, baby, this is your chance too.” Steve rubs up and down Eddie’s arms, guiding him around in front of the mirror.
It’s hard for Eddie to look at himself right now and see it written all over his face. Steve cleaned the stain and made his hair perfect again but he can’t fix whatever’s making Eddie… Well, Eddie. Whatever it is that made him flunk senior year 3 times, or screw up the first chance he had to make something of himself, or the reason Ronnie won’t pick up his phone calls, or the reason Wayne sleeps with his keys on the bedside table in case he has to come running to Eddie’s rescue like always—
Steve’s fingers lightly cup Eddie’s chin, he’s standing behind Eddie now, his body warmly pressed against him.
“Look here, honey.” Steve gently tips Eddie’s head up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. They’re glistening with unshed tears that almost fall when Steve says soft but sure, “You’re not a fuckup,” and prompts Eddie, “Say it.”
Eddie swallows the lump rising in his throat, “I’m not—”
He chokes up a little bit and Steve waits patiently.
“Tell yourself,” Steve whispers, all earnest-eyed in the mirror like all he wants is to make Eddie believe it.
“I’m not a… fuckup,” Eddie gets the words out and a few tears slip free with them.
Steve brushes them away. “You can do this. Say it.”
With a deep breath, Eddie tells himself, “I can do this.”
Steve kisses his temple, gives him a little praise that he admittedly needs so much right now, “You’re gonna be so good.”
Eddie’s mind starts to clear of everything that’s not Steve rocking him slowly in his arms, whispering, “You’re my good boy,” as many times as Eddie needs to hear it. He feels his confidence building back up, getting more comfortable in his skin again with Steve holding him, believing the words Steve made him say in the mirror, believing the words Steve kisses into his neck and loves into his skin. He can do this.
“Aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me,” Steve prompts and Eddie turns a little, blinking slowly, eyes feeling heavy with the slow dose of bliss Steve gave him.
“I’m your good boy,” Eddie murmurs and he believes it.
When they leave the bathroom later, Steve can’t hold his hand through this, but Eddie still feels him.
He charms the fuck out of those suits from the label. They love Jeff, everybody loves Jeff, and they love Eddie too. The whole band is definitely getting signed, at least that’s what Steve says on the ride home.
Eddie greedily soaks up all the praise and attention, feeling a little spacey with it, Steve's big warm hand on his thigh grounding him. He can't wait for them to get home so he can properly thank Steve.
#i just think eddie needs steve to tell him he's a good boy sometimes and i'm right#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#subeddieweek#also thank you again ent i'm flattered you wanted to draw this and it's so gorgeous and I appreciate it!!
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Retirement Party
Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.
Chapter One - The Perfect Gift
Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.
~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above
"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.
"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."
"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."
"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."
"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."
Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"
Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"
"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."
"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."
Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."
"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."
"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."
You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.
It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.
“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”
You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”
“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”
You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”
“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”
Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.
“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.
As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.
The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.
You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.
Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.
There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.
“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”
You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.
“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”
Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.
You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.
You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”
So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.
“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”
He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.
Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”
You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.
And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.
The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.
You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?
Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”
“You drugged me,” you accuse.
“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”
“I like my apartment,” you protest.
“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”
“I don’t want to be taken care of.”
“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.
You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.
He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”
They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”
“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”
“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.
“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”
“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”
“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.
“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.
You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”
“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”
The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”
“Terrified,” you admit.
He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”
You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.
“Use your words, pet.”
“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.
“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.
Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.
He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”
“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.
“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”
“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”
He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”
You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.
As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.
He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.
Or worse, to play with.
You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.
Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”
So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.
“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”
“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”
“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”
“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”
I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!
Image Credits: Banner
Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune
#cod mw fanfiction#cave writing#John Price x Reader#x reader#dark fic#Price please keep your dogs on leashes they are terrorizing women#The boys missed the real retirement party because they got emergency deployed and they've been trying to reschedule all year long#Good thing they've got such a good gift to make up for it#The homies in discord agree: These guys are unsettling
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𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 ’ part one.
SUMMARY: jj finds himself crushing on kildare’s good girl.
PAIRING: bad boy!jj maybank x good girl!reader ( basically kook!reader. )
WARNINGS: smoking , cursing , thoughts of ‘corruption’ & violence.
listened to ‘born to die’ by lana del rey & ‘delicate’ by taylor swift & this plot was born! i’m obsessed with bad boy jj x good girl reader trope & i really liked the nsfw headcanon i did a few months back. this is one of my favorite’s i’ve ever writtenz
Your voice was sickly sweet in his ears everytime he heard it. Your words rolling off your tongue smoothly , slipping into his brain and making it go into a fog— like the highest he’d ever get. He always wanted more , listening in absentmindedly during class when you gossiped with your friends. He loved it when you laughed at something , the way your eyes would wrinkle and your hand would cover your mouth because you were embarrassed by how loud your laughter would carry. You shined in his eyes , always floating around like some god damn angel.
You were painfully innocent. Kind and friendly to everyone you came across. It was the type of innocent that all the boys adored , and all the girls found endearing. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Everyone who knew you either loved you or hated you— the latter always one in a million. It was hard not to like you , because of your habit to cheer up even the angriest of people around you. You were a simple girl , always walking around in your little sundresses waving at everyone and wishing them a good day.
JJ adored that part of you. He found it cute the way you were so naively oblivious. When the boys would shower you in gifts and compliments , the thought of an ulterior motive never crossed your mind. You’d simply thank them with a smile , promising to do something sweet in return. It had gotten to the point that people had stopped trying because no matter what anyone did— you treated everyone the same. You were friendly and kind to everyone , no matter how hard they tried to be special or different in your eyes it just went right over your head and you didn’t give it a second thought.
Like today , in the cafeteria , JJ watched you from across the room with his hands in his pockets leaning back in his seat. His toothpick on the side of his lip hanging as he lightly chewed it. JJ Maybank out of all people— the boy who was the complete opposite of you had been so hellbent on you. Nobody really understood it but at the same time , they were all too afraid to speak up to him about it. He was violent and mean , dismissive to girls like you. The Kooky , preppy kind. But it hadn’t mattered to him because you were his only exception.
Your friend whispered in your ear , something JJ could only guess was something about him. He watched as you flushed , not being able to stop the smirk on his face as you swatted her away with the shake of your head. With eyelashes fluttering , you looked up at him , pursing your lips. He nodded your way as a sign of approval— a hello all in the same. Your lips pressed into a smile at that , wiggling your fingers lightly before adverting your attention back to your friends. The way the girls around you went to whispering in your ear caused something to swell in JJ’s chest , hoping you’d finally manage to let him have a conversation with him. For everyone else he was hard and mean— but for you , he was soft.
“You need to give up this Y/N fantasy already.” Pope interrupted JJ’s thoughts by kicking his foot from underneath the table and earned an eye roll in return. “I’m serious. You’re acting creepy.”
John B couldn’t contain his laughter , nodding his head in agreement. “Yeah , dude. I thought you’d be over it by now but it’s been like a month and a half and all you do is stare at her.”
JJ sighed in irritation. His friends constantly gave him shit about him. Not that he could blame them. If it hadn’t have been him , he’d be giving either them the same amount of trouble over it.
Any other girl would’ve been fucked and discarded by now. He never focused on one girl for more than a week , let alone over a month. But there was something about you that always made him curious , wondering how innocent you truly were. You were beautiful , prim and proper. His crush had turned into something else inside of him— obsession at best. The way you hadn’t looked at anyone else , staying to yourself and your group of friends. The girl everyone wanted but couldn’t have. There was just something about you that caused his body to react a certain way it didn’t with the others he’d been with. Just the sound of your voice made his heart race , the little looks you’d give him sending shivers down his spine.
“Shut the fuck up and mind your business , alright?” JJ grumbled out.
“Look JJ , be realistic about this—” Pope started.
“Y/N’s a kook , okay? And not just any Kook. Like practically the Kook princess. I’m pretty sure she has Sarah Cameron beat by a long shot.” John B continued listening on the reasons. “You can’t stand Kooks and she’s like—” he glanced over at you , in your pretty pink sundress. “She’s like nice and you’re not all that nice.”
JJ narrowed his eyes at John B. “I’m nice to you.”
Pope chuckled. “Yeah barely. And that’s because you have to be or you’d be homeless. I have Chem with Y/N and John B’s right. She is pretty nice. You don’t like girls like that.” He thought back to all the girls JJ had been interested in the past and none had been like you. There were all same , a bit snippy and wild. Partying at the bonfires , sleeping with him the same breath. You weren’t like that and he’d rather be honest with JJ then have his friend hurt the good in you , regardless if you were a Kook or not.
“You guys need to just mind your fucking business.” JJ spat them , clearly fed up. They should’ve known better than to push at him— his anger always got the best of him in any situation. His chair scraped loudly as he stood up and yanked his bag from off the floor.
“JJ , c’mon man—” John B called after him , but it was too late. The only reminder that the blonde had even been in the cafeteria was the doors swinging closed behind him.
The commotion caught your attention. You watched as JJ briskly walked away from his friends , an unreadable expression painted on his face. Whatever conversation your friends were in now seemed like white noise to you , knawing on your bottom lip nervously.
It was JJ Maybank. The boy all the girls talked about in the locker room. Some of things you had heard , though , you had wished you hadn’t. You felt pervy when you listened in on certain conversations about how he was in bed , rough and fucking girls like a man scorned one too many times. And you knew he looked at you. Your friends would always gush about it , saying how lucky you were to have had his attention this long. Your parents knew of him , too. Nothing good ever leaving their mouth when a conversation involved him— your dad complaining about his trouble–maker lifestyle.
The inward war in your head seemed to come to a close when your body reacted before your brain did. Looking towards your friends you flashed them an innocent smile , claiming that you didn’t feel good and wanted to use the bathroom before the period ended. Brushing off their concerns , you grabbed your own schoolbag before rushing towards the door JJ had once walked through. Your eyes flickered around the halls to find him , only barely catching sight of his blonde hair rounding the corner.
Taking in a deep breath , you took it amongst yourself to follow behind him— your legs moving before your brain could think it through. “JJ!” His name fell off your lips easily , like it was something you had practiced in the mirror for days. The way his movements immediately stopped at the sound of you , looking over his shoulder to make sure it really was you. Starting to feel nervous , you swallowed anxiously while tightening your grip on the backpack straps. “I uh— well I saw—” you flushed red as you stammered.
His eyes on you this close , just a mere foot away seemed to cause more of a reaction than you thought. Beautiful even up close , the way his lashes dusted the apple of his cheeks seemed to entrance you more up close. He still held that cocky smirk though , pleased to see you had come looking after him. His reaction was practically stoic besides that , but you weren’t inside of his chest feeling the way his heart had started beating rapidly. “Yeah?” JJ drawled out , his voice teasing.
You cleared your throat as you tried speaking again. “Well you left in a hurry and I was just making sure you were okay.” You finally managed to breathe out trying your best to ignore how shaky it sounded.
You weren’t used to things like this. Feeling so worked up over a boy. Your whole demeanor had seemed to shift just slightly , and it pleased JJ to see. “Sweet little Y/N , like always.” He hummed.
You blushed at that. The name coming from JJ made your pulse quicken. “Yeah. . .” you managed to breathe. “I–I can go. I just , you know—”
“Were worried.” JJ finished for you , finding humor in the way you stumbled over words.
“Yeah.”
Silence seemed to begin to suffocate the two of you. Suddenly you felt warm , almost sweating with JJ’s eyes on you. Biting the inside of your cheek , your nervous habit , you tucked your hair away from your face. “I have to get back to my friends—”
“Okay.” Was all he said , still looking at you. Flushing red , you nodded awkwardly and slowly started moving to turn away. You silently cursed at yourself as you began to feel embarrassed.
Before you disappeared around the corner , you heard JJ’s voice once more. “Come to the Boneyard tonight. We’re throwing a party. Come.”
You hadn’t bothered turning back or even sparing another look. His words rang around in your head— the way he looked at you burned in the front of your memory , replaying the color of his eyes.
Parties weren’t your thing and they never really had been. Your parents didn’t like them much and the crowds always seemed to overwhelm you. And the idea of being at the Boneyard of all places. . .
But something in the way that your stomach bubbled and your heart hammered— told you to raid your closet and find something pretty to wear.
The night had come faster than neither you or JJ would’ve liked it to. You were a bundle of nerves. You had reapplied your lip gloss for what seemed like the hundredth time. And JJ just as equally on edge wondering if you’d even show up. As cool as he tried to play it , he knew it wasn’t cool. He wanted you there , to sneak you off somewhere to have you all to himself the way he had fantasized about. Too afraid of the chance of you not bothering to show up— though he couldn’t be too mad at you with the way he had invited you ( he wasn’t even sure you heard him ) , he hadn’t told the Pogue’s about it.
Wanting to play it safe rather than sorry.
Little did he know how determined you actually were. You picked out the prettiest thing in your closet , wanting to look your best. Paying attention to the littlest details , butterflies swirling in your stomach at the anticipation to see him. It seemed like a long time coming , anyway. Right? Your friends had noticed it before you had and at first , you weren’t sure to even bother. But JJ— JJ was different than all those other boys that tried it on with you. That’s all they seemed to be , boys. But JJ was more than that. You could tell in the way he carried himself. How closed off he was. There were things about him that nobody knew , things he had kept hidden about himself. Short sentences and broading shoulders , you knew there was more to him and your eagerness to know was foreign to you.
You had debated on calling one of your girlfriends to go with you. That’s what you had told your parents anyway. You knew they’d be furious with you if they found out where you really going , so you shrugged it off as just a get together with your girlfriends. Your excuse also allowed you to be out later than your normal curfew. Lying wasn’t something you liked to do and so you considered calling your friend— Jessie , to go with you but you didn’t feel like explaining it to her or anyone else for that matter.
Your mother allowed you to take her car and as you drove off towards The Cut , you did feel a little bad for your lie. The whole thing made you feel guilty and considered turning around and blowing the whole thing off , but the excitement you felt of seeing JJ again triumphed it.
You were a mess when you pulled up. You inwardly cursed yourself for the position you were in now. There was no way of finding JJ other than scouting through the crowds for the familiar color of his dirty blonde hair , hoping it wasn’t covered with a hat. Being by yourself made you feel open , and you fidgeted with your hands as you walked towards where everyone was— the sound of music booming on the beach helping you know where to go.
The moonlight illuminated your path just enough for your feet to hit the sand , the fire doing the rest. Your eyes flickered around to see any familiar face , but there was so many people. Red solo cups everywhere , the smell of weed making your nose crinkle. It wasn’t until now that you realized how in over your head you were.
Taking a deep breath , you gained the courage to move. You smiled at the people who glanced your way with wide eyes , not expecting to see you there. Sheepishly you waved , hoping to find someone you had at least more than one conversation with.
It took a bit of searching until you finally found someone. Pope Heyward.
He was JJ’s friend and the two of you had Chem together. Once even being partnered together. Taking a breath of relief , you politely pushed your way towards him , chewing harshly on the inside of your cheek. He hadn’t noticed you— not until you nervously approached in front of him.
When his eyes landed on you , his face went pale. He had to blink a couple of times to make sure it was really you. “Y/N?” He said your name confused , glancing around nervously. “What’re you doing here?” Pope asked but he had feeling he knew.
Pulling at your fingers you shrugged and tried to look around him to see if JJ was anywhere near. “It’s me.” You laughed lightly , flushing. “JJ invited me.”
“Oh!” He chuckled with eyes flickering around crazily. You cringed to yourself embarrassed and when Pope noticed , he quickly spoke again. “Not like a bad oh! Just a surprised oh. I didn’t think you came to things like this.” Pope explained himself.
“It’s okay , trust me I know.” You brushed it off to ease the tension between the two of you now , hoping it’d disperse. “But um— I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Wanted to see what it was like s’all.”
Pope nodded in understanding and wrapped an arm around your shoulders loosely , looking around again. He could tell you felt uncomfortable and wanted to make you feel a little better before finding JJ. “Did you come by yourself?” He asked , a bit of concern lacing his voice.
“Um , yeah.” You grimaced at how small you sounded but the look on Pope’s face made you feel a little better. “I figured I’d already know some people here and look— I found you.” You offered a grin , to which Pope gratefully returned.
“I’m sure JJ’ll be happy you’re here.” He assured you with a confirming nod.
He helped guide you through the mess of people towards the Kegs , and you spotted him. Your stomach fluttering at the sight of him. He wore his usual white t–shirt though it was a little more tighter than you were used to seeing. It hugged his biceps well and the sight made your legs feel like jelly. A backwards hat on top of his head. He was laughing giddily with John B and a couple other friends , his arm around his friend shoulders.
John B spotted the two of you first. His eyes widened just like Pope’s had and he quickly nudged JJ’s shoulder obnoxiously , pointing towards the two of you.
When JJ looked over and saw you , he couldn’t help but the accomplished smile that took over his face. His eyes scanned you slowly , not bothering to hide how he was checking you out. You were still wearing his favorite— a pretty little sundress , in the color light pink this time. He almost groaned at the sight. The night sky did you justice , drawing attention to the highlights of your face , the plumpness of your lips. He found you to be the most beautiful he had ever seen you.
“There’s no fucking way.” John B mumbled as you approached them obviously anxious as you smiled.
“What’d you know.” JJ spoke up , grinning at you. “The Kook Princess actually came.”
The name he used for you made you flush but you roll your eyes all the same. Trying to play it cool , you simply shrugged and looked around. “Thought I’d see what the hype was all about s’all.”
JJ threw his head back in laughter. Knowingly. “Of course you did. Well—” he threw his arms up and gestured towards the atmosphere. “Thoughts?”
“It’s alright.” You hummed and turned your attention towards John B who was watching the interaction with his jaw slacked open. “Hi John B.”
“H–Hey.” He stuttered in surprised. “I can’t even lie right now I’m fucking shocked to see you here , Y/N.”
Closing your eyes in a bit of frustration , you nodded slowly. “So I’ve been told. Twice.” You emphasized the word.
“Right.”
Rocking back and forth on your heels , JJ dropped his arm and walked closer to you. You looked up at him through fluttering lashes coated in mascara , the blush you wore drawing attention the way the smell of his cologne made you flush. “Want a drink?”
Looking back at the keg , you shook your head timidly. “Any water?”
“Inside.” JJ told you. Without wanting he reached down and grabbed your hand , pulling you towards you and away from Pope. “Catch you guys later.” He said , pulling you in the direction of the Chateau.
His hand in yours was like salt and ice. It burned so bad but in a way that made your breathing hitch and mind become hazy. You liked it. Ring clad fingers squeezing your own.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” JJ admitted as the two of you walked in the kitchen. You leaned against the counter and watched as he moved towards the fridge. “Didn’t think it was your scene.”
“It’s not.” You quipped. The smirk on his face making you squirm. “Like I said , I was curious.”
JJ chuckled and walked towards you again. Just like in the hallway , his attention attentively on you as you shifted foot to foot. Handing you the water bottle you reached for it , fingers grazing his making you gasp lightly. Blushing you cleared your throat. “Cold.”
Your reaction to him made his chest feel big. The way you were squirming around trying to act all confident when JJ knew you weren’t. Humming to himself , he stepped towards you closer. One arm leaning on the counter your back was using , the other reaching out to touch your necklace. Your breathing hitched once again , caught in your throat as his hands danced on your skin lightly. Barely touching but just enough to make you feel it.
“You look pretty.”
The sentence was simple and sweet. Something you had heard a thousand times before. But hearing it come from JJ made you feel different. It made your stomach bubble and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You hadn’t even noticed how hot the tips of your ears were starting to get. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You almost laughed how the situation mirrored the one from this morning. Cocking your head to the side , you decided to speak up again. “Do you like me?” The question slipped before you meant it to and you instantly regretted it. JJ’s face didn’t falter though , instead his face only looked amused.
“Why do you ask?” He was teasing you now. His tone of voice showing it off.
“Well— well because! My friends always catch you looking at me in school and sometimes when I’m in the library it looks like you’re going to talk to me but you never do and— and you invited me here.” You squeezed your eyes shut in pure embarrassment. Your cheeks were surely flamed red and you were positive you sounded like an idiot.
JJ softened at your expression.
“You’re right.” He started watching as you slowly peeled your eyes open to look at him. “I do all those things and I do it because—” pausing he tried to figure out what to say. JJ did like you , alot. But you were fragile and delicate , the prettiest flower out of a whole entire garden. And as much as he wanted to pick you and keep you forever , he couldn’t stand to be the reason you wilted. For the first time that JJ could ever remember , he didn’t want to hurt you. “I like you , Y/N—” his words barely above a whisper.
“But. . .” you guessed.
“But you’re you and I’m me. You’re everything good in this world and I don’t want to go corrupt that.” Selfishly he did , but he wouldn’t— couldn’t , be selfish when it came to you.
You paused to look at him. Searching his face for any sign of anything other than him being truthful. You were quick to find that there was nothing there. He was being genuine and your heart lurched at that , speeding up like crazy. You knew it was insane. The idea of you and him. You knew he was violent , and a player and just the type of boy your mother always told you to stay away from.
Shamefully , you weren’t strong enough to walk despite all the facts spelled out in front of you.
“I like you , too.” You said carefully. Studying him as you spoke. He hung on to every word , absentmindedly leaning in a bit closer each second. “That’s enough for now.”
Your words made his eyes flutter closed. His forehead leaned against yours as you felt every sense in your body overload. Goosebumps rising.
“For now.” He let out breathily.
It would be enough. For now.
#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#outer banks imagines#outer banks#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank angst#jj maybank blurb#bad boy x good girl#jj maybank x kook!reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x reader blurb#jj maybank one shot#jj maybank outer banks#jj maybank obx#obx jj#obx fic#jj obx#obx jj x reader#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#obx x reader#jj outer banks#outer banks imagine#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks blurb
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ever ask yourself how many times do sam & dean actually apologize in supernatural? who's more conscious of money and getting food? how sam & dean's feelings about john change over the course of the show? is sam actually more scrutinized for gender expression than dean? who most often disposes of corpses? WELL! I've finally finished my incredibly, long, in depth rewatch notes document! And it has the answers to all those questions and more!
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Could i request a ghostlight where danny can turn into a dragon, it could be though a curse or just training from queen dora?
Like dragon Danny seeing the yellow signal outfit and thinking "mmmmm gold, shiny, must take".
He should probably be more worried about being cursed.
Scratch that, he should definitely be more worried about being cursed. However, it wasn’t done intentionally or in bad faith. This is just the consequences of him, Sam, and Tucker fucking around and finding out when left unsupervised with the grimoire of a long dead witch.
In their defense, they didn’t know Tucker could use magic. This revelation both upset Tucker, who refused to be swayed from tech, and Sam, who thought she was a better fit for magic considering how goth she is. Danny hadn’t really cared, since he was too busy being turned into a dragon. At least it isn’t like with Dora’s necklace; Danny is still himself, can think clearly, and isn’t overcome by rage.
He’s just… Danny. But as a dragon.
“Well, you do something to fix him then!” Tucker shouts, waving a hand in the air angrily, “Since you want to be so good at magic, you do it then!”
“I would if I could! But you’re the one who gets to use magic, so figure it out and turn Danny back!” Sam shouts back, getting in Tucker’s face with a fierce scowl.
Danny sighs, shifting uncomfortably. His room is not big enough for a dragon, and his back is starting to cramp up. He looks longingly out the window to the clear skies that call to him, and wonders when his friends will stop fighting.
They keep shouting, so he doubts they’ll be able to focus on actually helping him for at least another hour.
The only silver lining about the situation is that Jazz and his parents are gone, taking the weekend to visit a few colleges so Jazz can decide which one she wants to go to. Though he’s been cursed into dragon form and his friends are yelling about it, at least his family can’t make it any worse with their attempts to ‘fix’ things.
There’s a lull in the yelling, Sam and Tucker both turning their attention back to the grimoire. Danny shifts his wings, tail flicking slightly, and leans his head closer. He wishes he could help figure this out, but he can’t talk in this form, and any attempt at charades will destroy his room.
His friends look focused, at least. So maybe they’ve decided to focus on finding solutions instead of fighting.
“Here,” Sam says, shoving the grimoire over to Tucker roughly. “Try that.”
Tucker reads over the spell, then scoffs and pushes the grimoire back. “That’s not going to fix anything. Didn’t you read it? It clearly says truth is the greatest revenge, revealing one’s true form force it into light. It’s talking about making people who are secretly cruel turn ugly or something like that! It’s not going to do anything for Danny!”
“It says one’s true form and Danny’s is a human! That would work!”
And they go right back to arguing.
Danny sighs, turning to stare out the window again.
In any other circumstance, being a dragon would be so fun. He has wings! He’s big and has claws and can probably breathe fire! And it’s not making him act on animal instincts or anything! If he could just be outside…
He glances at Sam and Tucker again.
Maybe he can go outside, enjoy the curse a bit before they figure out a way to undo it. Spend some time flying around with wings.
All the curse did was turn him into a dragon. It just changed his form. If he still has his ghost powers, if the curse didn’t change his nature from halfa to dragon…
Carefully, Danny focuses on his tail and tries to make it intangible. There’s a strange sensation of ice running down his spine, then it goes into his tail. In the next second, his tail drops through the floor, and Danny bites down a grin.
He is so out of here.
He gives Sam and Tucker another glance; they’ve got their heads bent over the grimoire, paying no attention to him.
Perfect.
Danny goes fully intangible and sinks through the floor of his bedroom, then maneuvers his way outside the house. As soon as he’s out, standing beneath the sunlight and able to stretch out his new body, Danny pulls his power back and takes a few careful steps on the grass, testing his balance. His wings shift on his back, and he stretches them out, feeling the way his new limbs move.
Everything feels natural, as if he’s always been a dragon.
Taking a deep breath, Danny spreads his wings out and takes off running. A few hard pumps of his wings gets him into the air, and he can’t help but let out a joyful roar.
Distantly, he hears Tucker and Sam yelling again, but he’s too happy to be free of that room to care. Let them argue. He wants to have fun.
Staying in Amity Park is a no go; Val might go after him, thinking he’s a threat, and ghosts could pop out at any time to cause problems. He might as well take this chance to fly around wherever he wants. Chicago wouldn’t be too hard to reach with how fast he’s flying, but he’s been there before and doesn’t want to stay in Illinois.
What other big city is nearby that he can fly to?
New York?
Or, better yet, Gotham.
It’s definitely a bad idea, but if any city is able to handle a dragon appearing without warning, it would be Gotham. Plus, he might get to see some of the heroes in action! Sure, it’s the middle of the day, but surely a dragon is a good enough reason for Batman to show up before the sun sets.
Mind made up, Danny flies up into the clouds and heads towards Gotham, following the roads out of Amity Park.
The flight is quick. It takes barely over an hour to see the dark figures of Gotham’s tallest buildings, fog surrounding the city like something out of a horror movie. The sun glints off the ocean behind the city for a rare, cloudless day. He’s heard stories about Gotham’s weather, how dreary it is, the occasional acid rain, the gloominess of it all. As bad as his luck is, it seems that the sunny day is trying to give him something good to even it out after being cursed into a dragon.
Excited, Danny angles himself down, diving out of the lower clouds and shifts his wings to catch on a wind current that smoothly sends him towards the city.
Just to be careful, he goes invisible as he gets closer, staying out of sight once he enters the city proper.
Noise overwhelms him immediately, cars honking and voices yelling, the occasional gunshot and sound of something breaking. It makes Danny wince, disoriented enough to make him falter as he flies above the streets.
Amity Park is quiet and peaceful in comparison, so much so that he hadn’t realized just how enhanced his senses had become in a dragon’s form.
The sounds of everything are so much, and all the movement of such a big city is dizzying. At least he can’t smell anything but salt from the sea; if he had to deal with the constant smell of blood, guts, and sewage, he would find a way to fully die to get away from it.
He slows down to a smooth glide, weaving his way between buildings as he takes in the city. Even with the sun out, it’s gloomy, the tall buildings casting shadows across the streets, a mix of art deco and gothic architecture filling up the space. He wonders if he should find some place up high he can rest, maybe bathe in the sun for a bit until he felt like moving again. If he managed to fall asleep, that might give Sam and Tucker enough time to figure out how to undo the curse.
“Ow! Shit, that hurts.”
Or he indulge in his curiosity and check up on whoever just cursed loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise of Gotham.
It takes a minute of searching before Danny’s eyes zero in on a bright flash of yellow moving across rooftops.
All other colors seem dull in comparison, and Danny has just enough time to think, Oh, there’s the dragon instincts taking over, before he’s flying after it, unable to focus on anything else.
Every time the yellow leaps out of the shadows, it’s as if it glows. As if Danny’s chasing sunlight.
He gets close, but loses the yellow every so often with how he has to maneuver around buildings, putting his new flying abilities to the test in an effort to keep up.
Then the yellow comes to an abrupt stop. Danny can’t stop in time and flies past it, tilting his body and spreading out his wides as far as he can to make a tight turn.
“I’m fine, just bruised up, but I feel like I’m being followed,” the yellow says to no one. There’s a pause, and then the yellow says, “I don’t see anything, is the thing.”
If the yellow has anything more to say, it doesn’t get the chance to do more than open its mouth before Danny’s crashing into it, tackling it to the ground.
He’s elated as they roll across the roof, the living sunlight caught safe in his arms. He holds it close to his chest, protecting it until they come to a stop, dropping his invisibility as a low rumble builds in the back of his throat. The dragon brain has thoroughly taken over, and it takes far too long to wrestle control back from it.
Once he’s able to think more clearly, Danny looks down at the poor guy he’s caught and realizes, hey that’s a hero!
And then he realizes, that’s a hero. I fucked up.
He tries to say sorry, but all that comes out is a low chuff. The hero, who he can recognize as the Signal because who else wears mostly yellow in Gotham, leans back as much as he can, trapped in Danny’s grasp.
“Hey, dragon,” Signal says nervously. “I’m really hoping you didn’t catch me because you were looking for a snack.”
Danny huffs, bumping his head against Signal’s chest. He hopes he doesn’t come across as aggressive, because all he wants to do is laze around with a hero, his dragon brain happy to keep hold of its yellow sunshine.
He’s not going to let go of Signal, though. He intends to make the most of this moment while he can.
“Okay. You seem friendly? That’s good I guess.” Signal sighs, then tries to wiggle out of Danny’s grip. Danny doesn’t budge until Signal gasps and curls into himself, clearly in pain.
Worried, Danny lets go of him and tries to see what’s wrong, his snout poking against the Signal’s ribs.
The Signal hisses out a breath, trying to push Danny away. “Stop, don’t do that. Man, I hope my ribs aren’t broken. That would suck.”
That would suck. Rib injuries are the worst, and the bruises always seem to stay longer on ribs than anywhere else, in Danny’s experience. He would love to offer the Signal some ice, but as a dragon, he’s not sure how to use that particular power. He settles instead for backing off and making himself small, offering an apologetic rumble.
“Thanks,” Signal smiles, gingerly uncurling from where he’s hunched over, an arm crossing his stomach, protecting it. “I guess you’re friendly, then?”
Danny nods.
“...And you can understand me?”
Danny nods harder, a high pitched growl slipping out of his mouth.
“That’s so cool. What are you doing here in Gotham?”
It’s not a yes or no question, so Danny’s stuck on how to answer when words are so far out of reach. He shrugs, wings shifting against his back, then carefully bumps his head against the Signal’s helmet.
“Yeah, that was a bad question. Do you need help?”
Danny scrunches up his nose as he thinks. He is cursed, but so far, being a dragon isn’t all that bad. It sucks that he can’t talk, but everything else is cool! He just doesn’t want to be a dragon forever. But it’s nothing the Signal can help with, so Danny just shrugs again.
The Signal tilts his head. “Alright. I guess I’ll get going then, and you can chill up here.”
The low growl comes suddenly, without him even thinking, and Danny wraps himself around the hero again. Distantly, he thinks that he should stop, that this is technically holding the Signal in place against his will, but the much louder, dragon part of him is deeply upset by the thought of the Signal leaving while he’s injured. Danny can protect him, so there’s no need for him to go anywhere! In fact, he’s only safe as long as he’s with Danny!
He leans more of his weight onto the Signal until they both fall back onto the roof, pinning the hero in place.
Danny tries to be gentle, but the impact still makes Signal groan, tensing up in pain.
Sorry, he tries to say, the words coming out in a low chuffing noise. He draws his tail up to curl around the Signal so he’s completely surrounded by Danny, kept safe from anything that would try to attack him.
Letting out a breath, the Signal lightly knocks his head against Danny’s neck, the helmet barely felt through Danny’s scales. “Alright, Oracle, can you send someone to my location? I’m a bit stuck.”
It’s hard to hear, but Danny manages to make out a voice saying, “Black Bat is heading there now. What’s wrong?”
“I’m a bit stuck.”
“Injured?”
“Just my ribs, but that’s not really the problem. There’s a dragon who’s very determined to keep me on this roof.”
“A dragon,” the voice repeats.
“Yeah. It seems to like me? But it’s also not letting me leave. So. I’m stuck.”
There’s a pause, then a soft burst of static before the voice says, “I’m going to send a message to everyone else just in case they’re able to provide any back up. I’m sure Tim is looking for an excuse to ditch Bruce at that accounting meeting.”
“Guess I’ll just wait to be rescued, then,” Signal says, sighing. Then he tilts his head up to look at Danny. “Is there some way you could talk to me? To pass the time. Maybe morse code? Do you know what that is?”
Dragon brain makes him stupid, apparently, because Danny does know morse code. He didn’t even think of alternative ways of communication once he discovered talking was impossible with his new vocal chords.
It’s probably not even dragon brain. It’s just Danny brain that makes him like this.
Embarrassed, Danny drops his head onto the roof, drawing his tail closer to himself so it can cover his eyes, his best attempt at hiding his face. Then, with one sharp claw, he taps out Y.E.S.
“Oh! So, what’s up?”
N.O.T. D.RA.G.O.N. H.U.M.A.N. G.O.T. C.U.R.S.E.D.
“Why did you say you didn’t need help if you got cursed?!”
Danny wants to say it was an accident, but has no confidence that he can spell ‘accident’ correctly, so he goes with F.R.I.E.N.D. M.A.D.E. M.I.S.T.A.K.E.
“And can they fix it?”
I.D.K. T.H.E.Y. W.E.R.E. F.I.G.H.T.I.N.G. Danny huffs out a breath, flicking his tail in annoyance as he uncurls slightly, giving Signal some more breathing space. He doesn’t look as stressed out anymore, which is nice, but he still holds his ribs tenderly, careful not to move too much. G.O.T. B.O.R.E.D. L.E.F.T.
The Signal taps his own fingers against the roof, thinking after he takes in Danny’s words. “Do you think we can call them and see if they know how to fix it? I doubt you want to be a dragon forever.”
N.O. P.H.O.N.E.
“It’s cool, we can use mine.” And he pulls out a cell phone from… somewhere. Danny has no idea where. It’s like he blinked, and a phone suddenly appeared. His hero suit probably has a lot of hidden compartments and pockets to hold as much stuff as possible, but it’s so well designed that Danny can’t begin to think of where he’d put anything. Especially when his dragon brain keeps getting distracted by how nice the yellow is.
Danny taps out Tucker’s number when Signal asks for it, watching as the call connects and is put on speaker.
“Hello?” Tucker’s voice says, hesitant and a little distracted.
“Hi,” Signal responds with a mischievous smile, “Do you happen to be missing a dragon? Cause I’ve got one here who’s hoping he can get a little help from a friend.”
Danny hears something clatter on Tucker’s end, then Tucker starts yelling for Sam. He’s not quite able to bite back his laughter, entire body shaking with it. The Signal keeps his composure better, but he does share a glance with Danny that has him biting his lip, trying to keep his smile from growing.
“Where is he?!” Tucker demands, and for a moment Danny feels ashamed of how much stress he’s putting his best friends through. And then he remembers them fighting nonstop while ignoring him and doesn’t feel bad at all.
“Gotham.”
“...Gotham,” Sam repeats. Her voice is flat in the way it always gets before she verbally (and sometimes physically) tears someone apart. Danny winces hard enough that it jostles the Signal, making him glance back at Danny.
“Yeah. Gotham. He said he was cursed?”
Sam sighs heavily. “Yeah. Not my fault. It is Tucker’s fault, though.”
“I think I found the solution though! And also, it was an accident. You were the one who wanted to read the grimoire.”
He can tell they’re gearing up for another fight, so Danny lowers his face closer to the phone and lets loose a dark growl. It shuts them right up, and he briefly wonders about learning how to growl like that as a human, since it’s so effective.
Tucker clears his throat, and continues as if nothing happened. “Anyways. The cure. The thing that will make Danny stop being cursed.”
There’s another long pause.
“The cure…?” Signal prompts.
“Kisses.”
“Sorry, what?”
“It’s kisses.”
“Like… true love’s kiss?”
Danny hopes it’s not true love’s kiss. If it is, he’s never going to be human again. Who would his true love even be? As much as he liked Valerie, that ships sailed long ago. And he loves Sam and Tucker, but not quite like that.
“No. Thankfully,” Sam says. “Just kisses. What matters is the amount, not the person it’s from. So whoever you are, we’re gonna need you to be giving Danny as many kisses as possible until he’s human again. We’re also on our way to Gotham now. Johnny’s offered us a ride.”
On cue, an engine revs loudly.
“We’ll be there soon!” Tucker shouts over the engine, and the call ends just a second later.
Danny huffs, shaking his head lightly.
“Interesting friends you got there,” Signal comments idly.
Y.E.S. Danny taps out. L.O.V.E. T.H.E.M.
The Signal sits up and moves away from Danny, who has to stomp down the urge to curl around the hero tighter to keep him in place. He stands up, putting his phone away, and looks over Danny. His gaze feels like a physical weight, moving from his face, and the horns on his head, to the scales covering him, to his wings and tail.
His tails flicks back and forth nervously. Danny can’t get it to stop.
“Dragon,” someone new says, startling Danny. He spots the newcomer immediately, a lithe figure in all black perched on the ledge of the roof. Her voice is rough and he can’t see her face at all, fully covered as it is in her mask.
This must be Black Bat. He doesn’t know much about her; no one does, with how she’s managed to avoid being photographed and how rarely she is seen by anyone at all. He honestly wasn’t sure if she was real or not, but here she is.
“Hey,” Signal greets easily, “We need to kiss him better.”
Black Bat tilts her head. “Kiss… dragon?”
“He’s cursed. And kisses will fix him. Not true love’s kiss, but just a lot of kisses.”
“True love’s kiss?” she repeats.
“Oh, shit. I guess you haven’t read any fairy tales?” Black Bat shakes her head, and Danny wonders how she’s managed to avoid all fairy tales for so long. They’re usually among the first stories children are exposed to. “Yeah, in a lot of those stories, a curse can only be broken from a kiss by someone by love.”
Black Bat nods slowly, and it’s clear she doesn’t really understand, but she does hop off the ledge and walk over to Danny. She pulls up her mask to reveal her mouth, then looks to the Signal for guidance.
“Like this,” Signal says, then leans over and presses a soft kiss to Danny’s cheek.
If he were human, Danny would be blushing madly. As it is, he has to force himself to stay still and not hide his face in his hands, claws and all, from how flustered he is.
Black Bat follows in suit, dropping a delicate kiss to the top of his head.
Danny loses track of how many kisses he gets, all over his face, beyond flustered by the amount of affection two heroes are showering him in. It’s just to break the curse, but it’s still a lot of kisses!
Signal kisses the tip of his nose, and there’s a flash of light. Danny feels himself change, growing smaller, his human softness returning to him. It’s barely a few seconds, and then Danny’s human again, sitting on the roof with the Signal and Black Bat standing over him.
They blink at each other for a long moment, then Black Bat smiles and pats the top of his head.
Danny smiles. He knows his cheeks are red, can feel how hot they are himself, and ducks his head, too embarrassed to look at either of them.
“How are you feeling?” Signal asks, crouching down to be eye level with Danny.
He tries to answer, but all that comes out is a hoarse rasp. He winces and brings a hand up to his throat, then shrugs and gives the Signal a thumbs up.
He clears his throat. This time, he manages to whisper, “Thank you.”
Black Bat gives him a cheerful wave, then hops back onto the ledge and jumps off. Signal barely takes his eyes off Danny enough to give her a nod goodbye. He reaches out and brushes Danny’s hair off his forehead some before his fingers trail down the side of his face.
“I’ll admit, you looked cool as a dragon,” Signal says, “But you’re much cuter like this.”
Danny gives in and hides his face in his hands. The Signal laughs, warm and bright, and kisses his forehead.
“Come on, let’s make sure your friends can find you.”
“They’re going to be so annoying about this,” Danny mutters.
“It’s how friends show affection.”
“Seriously, though, thank you. I know being tackled by a dragon isn’t what anyone expects. Did I hurt you? Your ribs…”
The Signal shrugs. “Nah. I’m all good. Just a little bruised, but it’ll heal quickly enough. Though, you’re more than welcome to give me a kiss to help me feel better.”
Danny shoves him lightly for the teasing, but he does pull the Signal back for a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.
It’s only fair, after all.
#ghostlights#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp fic#prompt fill#my writing#this was supposed to be written last week... cries. work killed me but ghostlights is bringing me back to life#with a bonus cass!! i love cass in case u couldnt tell#duke is gonna roll up at the cave for evening training. have people insist he ice his ribs after they see the bruising#and he'll say 'no its fine a dragon kissed it better' and not elaborate#everyone has questions but damian is the only one upset that HE wasnt called to help the dragon when they know he's good w goliath#this doesnt change even after duke tells them the dragon was a cursed boy who is now human again#damian is lowkey wondering if he can find tucker to also be turned into a dragon. just for fun.#it'll give duke an excuse to see danny again so obv hes gonna say yes.#meet cute? no. meet DRAGON
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I’ve binge read your completed cobra Kai fics on AO3 and I just want to say you have an amazing gift and I am literally gonna go back and reread them now even tho I only finished yesterday! If you’re gonna write any more Robby-Johnny centered fics especially now that the newest season is out with the addition of a new baby, I would literally be the first reader!
Thank you for making my week better ❤️
Aww thank you so much!
Robby and Johnny really caught my attention. In this dumb karate soap opera, what those two had going on was genuinely riveting for me. I felt properly inspired. I really wanted them to have a better relationship and when the show wouldn't give it to me, I wrote it myself. I'm super fond of Good Boy and No Be There as writing projects.
But daaayyum, the babyplot in season 5 kinda killed my inspiration stone-dead.
I have an idea to re-write the way Robby and Johnny and Miguel work through their issues without the babyplot, simmilar to what I did with No Be There after season 4. I'd take the plot beats of the season 5 but re-work it to be more emotionally satisfying.
(I'd also like to re-introduce the continuity fairy, because the idea that Robby has healthy, well-adjusted grandparents that he normally spends the summer with going fishing and hiking was just thrown out there with no explanation this season, all to service the babyplot???? so, like, I want to be consistent with what has been established as canon prior to that).
So yeah, that's an idea I've been tossing around in my head, and hopefully I'll write it. But it's a bit of a struggle atm because the babyplot did Robby and Johnny so dirty - but in a way that sapped all the narrative tension out of their relationship. Lack of narrative payoff is a bit of an inspiration killer for me.
So I can't make you any promises, but I do have some ideas.
#Cobra Kai#Emletish writes#Fic: Good boy#Fic: No Be There#Johnny and Robby#The thing is I'm not even opposed to Johnny and Carmen having a family further down the line#I just haaate the way it was done to shove all the characters into an instant family without validating any of their emotions#like Johnny doesn't get to heal and move on from his issues. he's just magically better after cleaning his house....#even though he's actually drinking a shit ton??#nope it turns out that is meant to be funny?#like in previous seasons Johnny's alcoholism always had the aura of tragedy whenever it was shown on screen#but now ha ha. he drinks on the job so he's the world's worst uber. ha ha.#like the joke is empty and kinda mean#Don't even get me started on how this whole storyline devalues Robby's experiences#Robby doesn't get much outside of those two episodes in mexico to begin to sort through his stuff with his dad#his whole experience and trauma and identity crisis disappear because he's going to be a big brother for real#like Robby would be an adorable big brother but that is not the point#I don't even know what the point is#sorry this turned into a rant in the tags
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hiii!! new anon here 🦦
luved your hc x mommy kink fic….do u think u could write one similar that involves mark? :3
or a drabble or something. ANYTHING. maybe just your thoughts on the concept. pleaseee
and thank you!
hello new nonnie!! my requests are closed but thank you so much for enjoying the haechan fic! if you’re willing to wait, i’ll have a sleepover event soon that will allow you to bring this up again and possibly have something similar written for mark by me 🥹
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listens to queen and hozier and recognises every other lyric from good omens fic titles
#it's such a funny experience#this post was sponsored by 'get religion quick (cause you're looking divine)' from breakthru by queen i was like#'huh that's a cool line i'm sure i recognise it from somewhe-OHHHHH'#good omens#ineffable husbands#aziraphale#crowley#ao3#good omens fanfiction#queen#hozier#also shoutout to that video on youtube that's 'good old fashioned lover boy but it's ao3 titles' that had a good omens fic counter ahsgdgbc
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limitless (satoru gojo x reader)
notes: uh. should be working on my halloween fic lmaoo. but uh. thought i'd bang this out. inspired by a conversation with @shotorus about the names we use to refer to certain characters in narration. lmao.
contains: fem! reader (the only physical trait is that reader is shorter than gojo, gojo almost uses a gendered term for reader, but is cut off), established relationship (me: coughs up blood), typical gojo antics, nickname usage (darling, honey, sweetheart, babe), part of the infinite loop fic verse
wc: around 720
"...I have a question."
You look at Gojo expectantly. Normally, he just says whatever is on his mind without pause, without filter, so you don't get why he's standing on ceremony right now. "Yeah?"
"We're dating, aren't we?" he asks.
You nearly spit out your drink. He's not wrong; for better or worse, he is your boyfriend now. The fact of it is actually kind of unbelievable when you think about it. Not just you dating Satoru Gojo. But you dating Satoru Gojo. If you had told yourself that it would have come to this ten years ago, even five years ago, you would have thought yourself a liar.
Now he's the one giving you the expectant look, his lips curved upward that little smile that always manages to get your blood boiling. The cocky bastard probably just wants you to admit it.
You consider saying 'no' just for the hell of it.
You decide not to. It feels almost as if you’re pulling teeth when you respond, “...we…are.”
Gojo’s mouth puckers and you brace yourself knowing full well that he’s about to start whining about something. There’s always something with this guy…"If we’re dating, then why am I still just 'Gojo' to you? I call you by your first name!"
"You've always called me by my first name," you dead pan.
"That's because I've always loved you!"
You roll your eyes. You know that's a lie, but you don't intend to argue with him— at least not head on because you know that it’s just going to lead to a dead end. "No, you love disregarding proper social etiquette. Or rather, you don't see the point in it."
"Oh, darling, you know me so well!" Gojo gives you a saccharine smile and you almost gag.
"Don't call me that."
He pouts. "Well, if you say I always call you by name, shouldn't I call you something else to show how special you are to me?"
"...no, actually, just my name is fine." A nickname from Gojo sounds dangerous. The thought of being called some cutesy nickname in front of everyone you know is mortifying. In fact, Gojo would do it solely to embarrass you.
So, naturally, he ignores you. "If darling is no good, what about... babe? Honey?"
"Gojo, really, you don't—"
"Sweetheart? My love? Oh, I know, I bet you'd love to be called pr—"
"Satoru."
He immediately stops talking, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. You didn't think that that would have that much of an effect to be honest. For once, it feels like you have the upper hand. You make sure to savor the moment because you know they are far and few in between.
"Just my name is fine," you repeat. "...okay?"
He gulps and answers, "...okay."
You try not to let your mind linger on the fact that his voice just now was lower than usual. "Good. So—"
"Say it again."
You blink. "Huh."
"My name," Gojo says, his voice thick with emotion. "Say it again."
When you don't say anything he takes a step toward you, the infinite cosmos in his eyes staring you down. You feel defiant. It's not fair of him to ask you anything when he looks and sounds like this. Gojo takes another step closer and you think that if you're adamant about not giving in to him you better do it before he gets too close.
"You've... " you start and hate how breathless you sound. This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to you. "You've hit your daily limit."
Gojo pouts and takes another step. "Well, that's not fair."
"You're not fair," you retort.
He doesn't argue and you take that as Gojo admitting that he's playing dirty. "I think you should up the limit."
You hold your ground as he takes one more step closer.. "No. You think there shouldn't be a limit."
Gojo chuckles and leans down to bridge the rest of the distance between you. He cups your cheek, bringing your face closer to him. Your breath stills as you feel his own on you and it’s damn near intoxicating. His mouth is barely touching yours and your thoughts shift from trying to keep the banter going to how the slightest movement from either of you will result in a kiss.
“You’re right,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours. “There shouldn’t.”
#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo x you#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#nikuniku fics#i'm defs not the first person to write on this topic#and i won't be the last#reader never did answer his question though#but gojo gets one usage of satoru a day#they don't roll over#but if he's a good boy he can increase his allotment#unfortunately he is never a good boy#i'm going through gojo withdrawls don't look at me#i'm not really pleased with the ending#don't know how i'm gonna fix it tho#okay i gotta get back to my halloween fic#infinite loop!verse
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