ajourneyforjoy
A Journey For Joy
14K posts
A 20-something girl that's in search of her truest self (while somehow being allowed to help others on their mental health journey đŸ€·â€â™€ïž) & constantly trying to remember to live life joyously♥ Slowly getting better at living in the moment and not being so hard on myself.
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ajourneyforjoy · 3 months ago
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José Ángel Ríos
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ajourneyforjoy · 3 months ago
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ajourneyforjoy · 3 months ago
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THE IRON CLAW (2023) dir. Sean Durkin
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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"What's your love language?" x
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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A good dad || J.D.
𓂃 àŁȘ˖ ֎ֶ֞𐀔
pairing is johnny davis x wife!reader
in which your daughters want to keep the stray puppy they've found outside, and you have to convince Johnny that it's a good idea. it is, right?
word count: 2,2k
warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, allusions to sex, Johnny's such a grumpy dad, sixties relationship clichés?
A/N: : while I’ve convinced myself numerous times that writing one-shots isn't for me, Benny and Johnny have stuck in my mind and never left. why shouldn’t I fantasize about them and share these moments with you?
English isn’t my first language, but I’m having fun and that’s the most important <3
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(my gif)
“Oh, your dad’s gonna be pissed,” you sighed, eyeing the girls as they watched you back with cute pouts. 
Maybe cute, but not enough to make you fold. That puppy right there, at your feet, wouldn’t be part of the family for long. You remembered broaching the subject once, trying to convince Johnny that having a dog could only be good for the girls. Running low on arguments, his response to you was just a look with a serious ‘What the fuck would we do with that?’. You had never talked about the idea again.
“We told you he was near the trash cans,” Lynn, your eldest, nearly burst into tears at the thought of letting go of the dog. “All by himself.”
The dog nudged your bare legs, tail wagging. You took a step back, knowing it would be harder to leave him at the vet if you only stroked him once. You were too damn kind for these kinds of things, and the girls knew it damn well.
The brown fur went to nuzzle against Joan next, who scratched him with more intensity than necessary. Her smile was huge, and her little giggle of happiness nearly melted you on the spot.
You shut your eyes for a second. Focus.
“Look at his ears!” Joan squealed, comparing her small hand to his head. 
“Careful, baby,” you warned her, willing yourself to have some sort of authority back. “Don’t scare him off.”
“I want to keep him!”
“And who would be feeding him when you’re at school?”
Your question raised a moment of silence you had expected. It made you sigh loudly again, leaning your back against the kitchen table. 
“That's what I thought. You exhaust me, you two,” you said in a breath, watching the girls hustling back to the living room on a mission to find the little beast a name.
You were fucked. All of you. 
Rolling your shoulders back, you spun around and ignored the noises above your head. You were fairly certain a family of mice had taken up residence in the walls, but it didn’t matter. You had greater issues as of now, starting with the dog jumping around the girls.
While their laughter filled the house, you finished pouring boiling water into your cup and dunked a teabag inside, watching the clear water turn a bloody red. What could you even tell Johnny? Maybe you could lie and tell him the girls’ new school project was to take care of a puppy for a few days. Make them more responsible. After all, your neighbor's son had taken care of a guinea pig once. 
No, you scoffed at yourself. Your husband was more clever than that. He would see right through you and ask for the truth that you would deliver because you were like that. You hated lying to him, just as much as you hated him lying to you. 
Ten minutes later, your eyes were focused on the tea between your hands. You almost jumped out of the armchair when you heard the jingle of keys being thrown into the drawer in the hallway.
The front door closed with a thud and the girls looked up at you, waiting for any instruction. 
And here you were, sacrificing yourself again for those two little monsters. Setting your cup down on the coffee table, you tried to appear as serious as possible and pointed a finger at them.
“Don’t move, okay? Don’t move and keep the dog with you both.”
“‘Kay Mommy,” Lynn grinned up at you, stroking the dog’s head resting on her lap. 
You gave them a brief nod and cursed at yourself when you stepped across the dolls lying on the carpet, those poor things looking as crazy as you. So you quickly smoothed down your hair and waltzed to the kitchen, where Johnny was removing his leather jacket and boots. Seemed like he had finally heard after all those times you had yelled at him to stop getting the floor dirty with soil and grease. 
“Darlin’?” 
Johnny snapped his neck to face you with that charismatic smile he was always giving you, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. He was always making your heart flip too.
You crossed the room in no time, wrapping your arms around his neck. Sometimes you just greeted each other with a quick peck, and that was okay too. But you had missed him more than usual today, huddling up to shed warmth. 
“Hi,” you whispered, hoping you looked as innocent as you sounded. 
His forehead knocked against yours, and you could feel the love rolling off him in waves when he pressed a quick kiss on your mouth. And another. His face went to the crook of your neck, pressing into the sensitive skin as he pulled you as close to his body as possible. So he had missed you too, maybe more.
“We just had dinner,” you muttered, breathing in the scent of smoke clinging to his skin. “Didn’t know when you’d be back.”
“It’s okay,” Johnny’s lips grazed your cheek. “I’m not hungry tonight.”
“You’ll change your mind when you get a taste,” you grinned, pecking his lips and forgetting for a second about the dog taking shelter in your living room. “C’mere.”
Johnny’s steps were heavy behind you, trailing to the kitchen counter. His body nearly collided with your back when you faced him again, lifting a wooden spoonful of tomato sauce to his mouth and thumbing his bottom lip gently. 
“How’s that?” you asked, biting down on your lip.
“You know it’s fuckin’ delicious, as usual,” Johnny hummed, giving a smile that made you smile too. "Love it."
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah,” his hand slithered back down your pants, steering around your backside and fondling you. 
A small chuckle escaped your lips, happy to be still feeding your man after six years of marriage. It was almost unimaginable how after all these years of being with him, you still wanted nothing more than to be close like a lovesick teenager.
“Where are the girls?” Johnny asked before he could do anything to you, licking his lips as he stole a glance toward the living room. 
That’s when the dog decided to bark. A low, high-pitched bark that made you want to kick him out yourself.
“Shit.”
Johnny stared back at you, no trace of that amused grin anymore. “What’s that?”
But he was already making a beeline for the other room, and you beat him to it to block his way. 
“Listen to me first,” you ordered, pointing that finger again at his face and swallowing when he looked down at you that way, the same look he gave in bed sometimes. “Alright? Listen. Joan found a puppy in the garden earlier, and I’ve told the girls we can't keep it.”
“And?”
“And they–well, they were waitin’ for you to come home,” you chickened out, making him huff. “C'mon, what was I supposed to do, hmm?”
Johnny scowled, staring impassively at you and skirting past your figure to have a look at the intruder. 
Mumbling another inaudible curse, you dared to look at the scene too. The dog was now curled on Joan’s lap, sleeping softly. They all looked so damn cute. Meant to be, you could say, if your husband didn’t look so unpleased.
“You’re kiddin’ me,” Johnny’s eyes widened at the sight and darted back to yours. 
“We asked everyone around if they knew him and they said no,” Lynn explained enthusiastically. “That means we can keep him. He must have lost his parents.”
“They did ask,” you muttered, though only Johnny heard you. 
“He's gonna be sad if we abandon him,” Joan was now the one gazing at you both dramatically, giving those sad eyes that usually made her father change his mind. 
Johnny stared at the moonlight slanting through the blinds. Ten seconds felt like forever. And eventually, he retreated to the kitchen. 
“Take him back where you found him.”
The girls' protests were in vain. Both were already calling for you, sniffling tearfully while the dog snored like a little king on his throne. They begged you to do something, and you knew you had to try. You hated fighting with Johnny, but you hated your daughters’ heartbreak even more. 
“Honey,” you started smoothly when you found him by the front door, wide shoulders and thick arms, a cigarette dangling between his lips. 
At least he had opened the door to let the smoke out. 
“Hmm?”
“We need to talk about this.”
“We don’t,” Johnny sounded casual, as though the matter was already settled. 
Angry, it was now your turn to scowl. You were already getting upset at his close-mindedness. Your dad had been like that–talking to your mom like she couldn’t have an opinion. Johnny knew you despised that attitude, and you certainly wouldn’t be the one to let a man get in your way. Even less when it came to the kids. 
You stepped closer to him, speaking lowly so the girls wouldn’t eavesdrop. “So you’re the only grown-up making a decision here? Is that it? You’re being selfish and
 and clearly blind. You know how happy it makes them.”
Johnny’s eyes met yours, a breath of smoke separating you for a second. 
“You want the dog too?” his tone was dry. “Keep it then.”
“Hey, you’re acting like a jackass right now,” you snapped, so close to his face you could feel his breathing over your nose. “It’s a decision we both have to make. I’ve never seen the girls looking so excited by the same thing, Johnny. Taking care of that dog would give them a memorable childhood. Like mine.”
He let out a dry laugh, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Playing with my feelings now, aren’t you?”
“I don’t care,” you almost whined, so tired that the discussion wasn’t going anywhere yet. “Do you fear dogs? Is that why you don’t want it?”
“What?” Johnny scoffed. “No. The tiny shit isn’t goin’ to scare me anytime soon.”
“Tiny shit,” Joan sing-sung lowly, making her way toward you both. 
Beside her, Lynn was covering her mouth to suppress her giggles. The sisters exhanged a glance, more hopeful than you really were. 
“Bad word, Joan,” you warned, glancing down at the dog she was struggling to cradle in her arms. 
Deciding any of this wasn’t worth a fight, you let out a sigh and wordlessly turned your back on Johnny, kneeling before your daughters. 
“You’ll have to leave him at the doorstep, baby,” you said quietly, brushing a strand of her hair out of her forehead. “We’ll find him a new family tomorrow, okay?”
“Why?” Lynn asked, a sob catching in her throat. 
Joan was already tearing up, holding on to the oblivious dog like it would kill her to let go. You had no doubts she would be sad for an entire week, if not more. She was too kind, too. 
“We’ll talk about that in the morning,” you nodded at them, waiting for a nod back. When they did, it was truly the saddest thing you had ever seen. It nearly made you cry, too. 
That night, it was Johnny’s turn to tuck them in. You heard his voice from across the hallway, telling his girls he loved them. Small voices said I love you back. 
You walked from the bathroom to the bed silently, Johnny hot on your heels. 
“How long are you gonna be mad for?” his raspy voice broke through your inner thoughts, bringing you back to the present.
You slipped beneath the white comforter, a foot bumping into his.
“I don’t know,” you shuffled, turning your back to him and burying your head in the pillow. “How long are you gonna be an ass for?”
You had been expecting a response, but nothing came. Just a slight touch over your stomach to test the waters, slipping under your top when you didn’t tell him to stop.
“He’s downstairs,” Johnny muttered, clearly fighting to keep his eyes open.
“What?”
“The dog,” Johnny moved your hair so he could kiss your neck lazily. “He’s downstairs.”
Out of instinct, you tilted your head, allowing him to devour the side of your throat. It was hard to stay mad at him. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on his warm fingers. 
“How long for?”
“A week to start with,” Johnny replied, though you knew the dog was part of the family now. A week would turn into two, and then he would just forget about it. “Longer if he’s not a pain in the ass.”
You tried hard not to smile out of victory, reminding yourself how hard he had been to deal with. And how he was a pain in the ass.
Johnny's hand slipped over your hip when you rolled over to face him, a hand beneath your pillow. 
He swallowed, not quite smiling but not frowning either. You knew he was feeling guilty, always wondering if he was doing the right thing. If he was a good man. A good dad. Yet, you couldn't think of any man who would sacrifice himself like he did. Johnny never hesitated to work overtime and make sure you had all you needed, just like he had promised you all those years ago.
Your lips neared his, a bit bashful, just wanting him to know he could be forgiven easily. It was he who made the final leap by pressing his mouth to yours. His large hand filled the dip of the small of your back, remnants of the cigarette he'd smoked on his lips. A shiver trembled down your spine as your hand stroked his cheek gently.
"Don't sideline me," you pulled away, keeping him close to you. "Please. I know what's good and what's wrong for them."
"I know, darlin'," Johnny muttered back. "I wasn't implyin' that you didn't."
You nodded, keeping your eyes on him. “I’m sorry I got upset. I've had a long day."
Johnny’s lips turned into a smile. “And I’m sorry your man’s a jackass.”
You chuckled, eyes boring into his. “Yeah. Yeah, he is. But he’s a good dad.”
He nodded at your words, kissing your temple and holding you as though he would burn down the city for you. Another kiss was pressed on your forehead and all you had to do was drift asleep peacefully, hoping that dog wouldn't betray you.
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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Daddy!Benny Cross x Momma!Reader
Your and Benny’s little girl gets injured playing on a bike and must go to the hospital. Benny doesn’t handle it well.
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Warnings/Notes: mention of broken bones, cursing, angry but sweet dad Benny, protectiveness, typos, and I think that’s it.
Part of the Come Back Knockin’ universe. Takes place after Come Back Together and Together and More, but you don't have to read these beforehand to understand this fic.
Words: 1250
Benny Cross Masterlist
Benny’s going to lose his damn mind—that’s all you can think as you stand beside Wahoo in the hospital lobby, the both of you keeping sharp eyes out the wall-length windows to spot your husband. Facing him will be no easy feat and you need all the time you can get to prepare yourselves before he stomps through those doors. 
“Wahoo, I don't know about this. You really better go back to the meeting,” you encourage him, as you’ve done at least ten times in the last fifteen minutes. 
“Nah, I gotta stay and apologize to ‘im,” he replies. “But you shouldn’t have to wait here with me. You should go be with your girl.”
Your eyes scan the visible area from the benches in the flowered courtyard to the emergency sign attached to the building’s exterior brick before darting to the looped driveway reserved for ambulances. He’s nowhere in sight. But he will be soon enough. You called him—you peek at your watch—exactly twelve minutes and forty-three seconds ago. The shop is nineteen minutes away from the hospital and there’s no way he’s not speeding. 
“If I go, who is going to stop Benny from killing you?” you say, your heart hammering in your chest. 
You love your husband, but the man has a temper that can flare as easily as a swift strike of a match. He has started many short-lived fights, always requiring some patching up before the excitement finally settles down, but if Benny is given time to simmer, he can explode with an unrivaled rage.
Wahoo chuckles awkwardly, turning his head to look at you. 
“You got a point there, sweetheart,” he says. Then he goes silent amongst the background chattering of anxious families and ringing phone lines at the front desk.
You glance his way just in time to see the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple. 
“I won’t let him,” you promise. “You know
kill you.”
“Not sure you’re gonna be able to stop ‘im. You and the kid are the most important things in his world, and one of yous got hurt on my watch.”
A wince pinches your face at the memory and you’re so busy worrying about how the events of the next few minutes are going to unfold that you miss Benny’s entrance entirely. 
“What the fuck!” Benny shouts. It echoes throughout the room, making every head swivel, every conversation cease. 
As he storms closer, you step between him and Wahoo, your hands planting firmly on his chest. Murder is in his glare and though he could easily barrel through the barrier in his path, that would involve shoving you aside, and regardless of the circumstances, he would never do that.
Benny’s arm raises over your shoulder, finger pointed like a dagger toward his friend—well, enemy, at the moment. “What the hell you doin’ lettin’ my four-year-old on your fuckin’ bike!”
He tries to side-step you but you’re watching his feet, catching his movements before he can finish making them. 
“I’m real sorry, Benny,” Wahoo says meekly.
“Sorry? You’re sorry!” His tone is darker, fists clenching, anger overflowing and spilling onto the tiled floor. Without glancing at you, in a much softer—but still threatening—voice, he says, “Baby, move.”
You look up at him. Your hands slide from his chest to cup his cheeks in a failed effort to trap his attention. “Benny, it was an accident, ok? Alright? She was just playing pretend like she does with you and she wiggled out of his grasp and landed wrong,” you tell him. 
“I don't fuckin’ care if it was an accident.”
He’s so revved up, so locked in on his target, that your stomach twists for Wahoo. He’s been such a kind man and he’s so good with your daughter that he’s told you once or twice he wishes he could have one of his own someday.
When Lucy fell, it took all of two seconds for his visibly consuming guilt to settle in. He’d immediately picked her up, buckled her into your car, and followed you straight to the hospital where he has stressed over her injured state from the moment of arrival. He doesn’t deserve the abuse from Benny as if he was negligent. Benny, a man who regularly demonstrates little of his own self-preservation skills, but happens to go feral when his child so much as skins her knee. 
“Move.”
“Benny, please,” you say. “Honey, look at me.”
If you can get his eyes on you then he’ll be stuck to you like glue. He’ll calm down. The huffing and puffing of his chest will slow. 
And to your relief, when you stand up on your toes to invade his line of sight that is exactly what happens. The vengeance drains out of his face, replaced by a gentleness that only ever reveals itself to you and your shared child. 
“She’s fine,” you say. “She cried until the doctor gave her a sucker and now I’m not sure she even cares about her arm.”
Benny’s mouth dips into a frown. His brow pinches, then his teeth bite down hard on his bottom lip. “She got hurt,” he says, and your heart breaks for him.
You sigh. “I know.”
“I wasn’t there.”
“You wouldn’t have been able to stop it even if you were. It happened in a split-second,” you tell him. “You’re here now; that’s what matters. And wouldn’t you rather see her than argue?”
Benny’s exhale is a sharp release of air that subdues the remnants of his temper. “Where is she?”
You point to the double doors off to the side of the lobby. “Through there,” you say.
Benny swallows, nods, and takes your hand. But when he looks up, the glare resurfaces. “You're not gettin’ off,” he tells Wahoo. “I’ll deal with you later.”
As Benny pulls you along in the direction of your daughter, you quickly whisper to your friend, “I'll take care of it, but you ought to go.”
Wahoo’s smile is weak, never reaching his eyes, and his hands slip into his jeans pockets before he turns on his heel for the exit.
---
“Daddy!”
Lucy hops up from the floor where a few toys are scattered about from playing with the nurse in your absence. 
Benny plasters on a smile that barely conceals his agitation as he scoops her up in his arms. “You doin’ alright, nugget?”
“Mhmm,” Lucy hums, chipper as ever. “I finished my sucker. It tasted like grape.” She lifts her arm and Benny’s head jerks back to avoid a collision with his nose. “You like my cast?” 
You watch Benny struggle to come up with a positive reply, considering that within said cast is his little baby’s broken arm. “Y-Yea, Lu. It’s
It’s real great.”
“It’s blue!”
“I see that.”
The nurse chuckles as she rises from the floor and dusts invisible specks of dirt from her pristinely white uniform. “You’ve got yourself a lovely little girl,” she praises, tilting her head affectionately as he takes in the image of Lucy tucking her head into the crook of Benny’s neck. “The doctor says we’ll need to see you back here in six weeks.”
“Thank you.”   
She starts toward the door but pauses as she passes your daughter. “Goodbye, miss Lucy,” she says, her smile wide. 
“Bye, miss nurse!” With her good hand, Lucy gives an animated wave that the nurse returns as she closes the door behind her. 
Benny releases the sigh you’re pretty sure he’s been holding in since you called him. He cups the side of Lucy's head as if he could cradle her closer than she already is.
“You're not gonna be sittin’ up on any bikes for a real long while,” he says.
Lucy’s head shoots up, eyes widening in panic. “Nooo!” she whines. “You can't stop me!” 
“You wanna bet?”
“Yes!” she snaps back. “I
I'll do it when you aren't lookin'!”
Benny scoffs. "I'm not lettin' you out of my sight."
"I'll be real sneaky!"
The air of rebelliousness is all too familiar and it makes you snicker. Because despite the exhaustion of the day, despite the tears and the shouting and the drama that you hope will not reemerge later, all you can think as the bantering unfolds before you is that that little girl is definitely Benny Cross’s daughter.
---
Thanks for reading :)
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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benny calling his girl "dumb baby" <3
also hi clo love ya mwah!
suse i love you bigger than the universe :( also nsfw bc i had a vision n'couldn't get rid of it :(
benny loves hearin' you talk :( you're just so smart - his sweet, smart girl - y'spend all your time readin' those books and researchin' things in the library n'you're always teachin' him somethin' :( expanding the world for him n'he adores that!!! but there is nothing he loves more than knowing he can make that big brain of yours fucking melt. when you become his dumb baby - all cock drunk and whimpering with nothing more than a blurred skew of his name and a plea on your bitten lips - that's his favorite time to play. "atta girl - yeah - tell me. c'mon. use those words. know i wanna hear 'em." but you can't. they refuse to come out because you're overstimulated and hyperfocused on the dull drag of him pressing in and out in and out in and out inandout :( "cat got your tongue?" he goads, snapping his hips faster faster faster. n'all he can hear is the squelch from how wet you are and the gasps that muddle the structure of his name. "wanna cum? "yes yes yes" "gotta tell me, baby." "benny," "nu uh tell me what y'want. what y'need." "daddy, please," your tone is positively desperate and he wants to eat you alive. "my dumb baby. can' even talk can ya? guess y'just gonna have to take my cum since you won't listen. won't talk t'me so ya won't cum."
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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[REDACTED] [REDACTED]
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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via @chelseyamaro
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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“girls support girls” no. girls protect girls. I could hate a girl to death and I still wouldn’t take my eyes off her drink at a party, I could hate her like she was the devil but still I wouldn’t make her go back to a man that was beating her.
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ajourneyforjoy · 4 months ago
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As someone who's been told her whole life that she's too loud (and became hyper quiet because of it) this was so wholesome and perfect!
i'm so in love with your little bunny series and i'm so glad you're writing for benny! i was wondering if you could write something about reader being a yapper, always talking a lot about things with so much excite and benny finds this the most cutest thing ever, but one day someone says that she's annoying for that, which makes her feel very self conscious and she starts to think that benny might feel the same since he's a very much quiter person, and benny assures her that is not the case? just fluffy and comfort to warm my heart <3 thank you already!
Anon, this is literally the cutest request ever omg!!! Thank you for the request, I had so much fun writing this! I paired this as another one shot for my Benny x Bunny series, hope you enjoy!
Word Count- 2k+
Summary- See request above.
Sweet Talking (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)
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You pressed a kiss to Benny’s cheek, whispering to him that you’d be right back as you stood and made your way around the bonfire. You pulled Benny’s jacket tighter around you to fend off the chilly evening air on your trek back to the house. The night was still young, the sun having just set an hour ago and these bikers would be up until the sunrise, all having caught their second wind from the race held earlier in the fields. The loudness of the bikes and the sheer excitement from the crowds was something you were still trying to get used to, but you found that you actually liked talking to these people. Once they included you in their conversations and picked topics that you could relate to as well, you found yourself talking a lot more than you ever have in your life. They laughed at your jokes, they called out to you when they saw you approaching, they really seemed to just adopt you into their club. You supposed, in the beginning, a majority of that was from Benny probably intimidating some members into being nice to you, but regardless of that, they still seemed to enjoy your company and your silly stories and random facts – especially the women of this club. 
Stepping through the back door, you were immediately greeted by the scent of cigarette smoke and booze, things you were also still trying to get used to. Several members were lounging on the couch, smoking and talking as you passed them on your way to the kitchen. You went to the fridge, opening it and lowering yourself to search for a cold pop for yourself. Voices filtered into your vicinity from the adjacent dining room. Just as you grab another beer for Benny, your ears perked up when you heard your name being said in passing and you froze behind the refrigerator door. 
“–She does have a sweet piece of ass on her though,” a male voice, sounding muffled most likely by a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t be listening to this, but curiosity rooted you to your spot as you tried peeking over the door to catch a look at who was speaking. 
“Jesus Christ, you can’t get her to shut up anymore.” another voice replied, much deeper and raspier than the first. “I miss when she would just stand there shaking like a leaf, all nervous and quiet.”
“Would it even be worth it to hit that? C’mon man, she’d gab your fucking ear off during it, totally kill the mood for me.”
Your smile slowly at their words, heart sinking. You should get up and leave, you told yourself. But you couldn’t force your legs to move.
“I’d put that mouth of hers to work on something else,” the first man said, chuckling darkly. You squeezed your eyes shut at the insinuation. 
“Don’t know how Benny–boy puts up with it. I’d have to gag her just to hear myself think–”
You stand abruptly, unable to listen to anymore of their hurtful words. Using a bit more force than you intended, you slammed the fridge door shut, the glass bottles rattling harshly inside from the force. Tears stung your eyes as you rushed back through the living room to the backdoor. You paused once you rounded the side of the house, sniffing in order to keep the tears at bay. They were just drunk assholes, you tried to tell yourself. Who cares what they think of you? 
But a few traitor tears escaped your lashes at the thought of Benny finding you annoying too. Benny– that quiet, easy-spoken man who you loved with everything in you. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like how you squealed with excitement when you saw someone you knew from across the room. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like when you giggled loudly at jokes told around the bonfire. That quiet man who was your exact opposite.
******
Benny could tell there was something wrong the second you came into view again, your figure illuminated by the orange flames of the bonfire as you moved to sit back down by him. Your hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket, head tucked low. And beside him? It was rare that you didn’t sit on his lap anymore. 
You handed him a beer and he tried to catch your eyes because was that tears he saw coating your lashes? But you avoided his gaze, instead curling into his side and that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, quiet as a mouse, until you eventually tugged on his sleeve and asked if you could go home. The ride home was also weird. You didn’t tap his shoulder and point to things that interested you like you normally did on the back of his bike. You stayed glued to his back, silent. 
Benny watched, brow furrowed, as you went about your nighttime routine in silence, the house you shared no longer filled with your usual chatter. He sat on the edge of the bed, wracking his brain with the possibilities of you being upset with him. (The silent treatment was often a go-to method of torture you used when Benny pissed you off) but he was at a loss. Something had to have happened when you left the bonfire. Anxiety spiked through him at the thought that maybe someone had done something to you, but no, you would have told him. He made you promise to always talk to him if someone at the club was bothering you. 
You changed into your nightgown and Benny’s heart squeezed at the sight of you avoiding his gaze once again as you turned and began brushing out your pin curls in the mirror. 
“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, unable to bare another second of your silence. 
“Mh-hm.” Came your short reply.
Benny swallowed. You were definitely upset. “You seem . . . quiet.”
That was definitely the wrong thing to say because you’re shoulders stiffened for a moment and he thought you might turn around and throw your brush at him. But instead, you responded in a small voice, “Just tired.”
He frowned. He’d seen you when you were tired, this was something else. He tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your day, Bunny.” 
You shrugged. “Not much happened.”
“Well, tell me about it. I wanna hear it.” He tried to catch your eyes as you put the brush down and stepped away from the vanity.
“Well, maybe I don’t wanna talk about it? I just want to go to bed, Benny.” you tried to move past him to go to your side of the bed but Benny reached out gently tugged on the hem of your nightgown, stopping you.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking up at you. 
You nodded, but still refused to make eye-contact.
“What’s wrong?” he questioned. “Did someone do something to you tonight?”
You shook your head quickly and relief swept through him. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
His hands slid up to your hips and he pulled you closer to him. “Talk to me, Bunny. Please. I don’t understand what’s wrong.”
You swallowed, chin wobbling slightly. “Nothing happened . . . I just–I overheard some guys talkin’ is all.”
He remained silent and you continued hesitantly. “When I went to get a drink . . . they didn’t know I was there. And–and I should have left as soon as I heard them talking but . . .”
“What were they saying?”
You clenched your jaw and gave him a distressed look. 
He squeezed your hips encouragingly. “What were they saying?”
“It doesn’t matter–”
“It does to me,” he was quick to say. 
“They . . . they were talkin’ about how I talk . . . a lot. They said it was annoying. They were saying crude things about using my mouth for . . . other things.” you said slowly, voice wavering and you looked down in embarrassment.
Benny nodded and breathed out of his nose, counting to ten in his head to cool his suddenly white hot anger which bloomed in his chest. He had worked so hard to get you to feel comfortable around the club, to get you to come out of your shell and now someone had something to say about his girl—his sweet shy girl—talking? “Who was it?”
“Oh, Benny–” You pulled back from him. “Don’t go saying anything to them!”
“Why not?” He planned to do much more than talk to them.
“Because!” you cried, your voice going an octave higher. “That would make it worse! Besides, they’re–they’re right anyway.”
“Right about what?” he asked, bewildered at how they could possibly know you like he did.
“Well, I do talk a lot. A–and I know it can be annoying for someone who’s a lot more quiet.” 
“Annoying?” He laughed at the inaccuracy of that statement and you must have thought he was laughing at you because you took a big step back from him, out of his reach.
“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” you murmured, looking down at the carpet below you. 
Benny’s stomach fluttered apprehensively. There had been only a few times in his life where he wished he was better at talking, at communicating his feelings. He wanted to console you, to reassure you, that you could never be annoying or embarrassing to him. He wanted to tell you just how much you gave him purpose and helped him in his life. How you were his life. This was one of those times. 
He rose from the bed and approached you passively, trying to gather his thoughts. “I like when you talk. When we spend the day apart, I look forward to hearing about your day and what you did and what you saw while I was gone. And when we’re riding and you point to the little things like the flowers on the sidewalk or the sunsets, I like that. I really like that. And when you tell stories, you get so immersed and you start talking with your hands, I like that too. You’re so friendly to everyone, no matter what they look like or how well you know them and that’s one of my favorite things about you. You talkin’ could never embarrass me, Bunny, because it’s one of the reasons I love you.”
Tears welled up in your doe-eyes and he swallowed nervously. “Why are you crying?”
Suddenly, you were pressed so tightly to his chest, face burying into his shirt, hands holding onto him with such grip that Benny stumbled. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around your small frame.
“Oh, Benny,” you choked up. “You’re so sweet!” 
He wasn’t so sure about that, maybe only when it came to you. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be so sweet to those guys that spoke about you like that. He’d take a trip tomorrow to visit them personally, but for tonight, he belonged to you. He’d discovered that about himself from your relationship, from you. Even though he wanted to do things right when he wanted to, he couldn’t always. That’s what love was, putting others’ needs before your own. And tonight, you needed him, so he would be here.
His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head back to press a kiss to your forehead. “Will you come lay with me and tell me about your day?”
You nod, sniffing and Benny nearly melted at the smile you gave him. That was the smile he’d come to recognize as the one you had reserved for only him. Soft, sweet and totally perfect in every way. He pulled you gently back to bed and relished as you curled up against him. His heart was filled with warmth as he listened to you chatter on about your day and your friends and your thoughts, anything that came to mind. He’d ask questions every once in a while to keep you going, but he mostly stayed quiet, because to him, you were so captivating and cute. You both talked throughout the night, you slowly getting lower and lower into his side until finally falling asleep, your conversation temporarily paused until the morning.
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ajourneyforjoy · 5 months ago
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Are we all crying together on this warm Tuesday night in June
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ajourneyforjoy · 5 months ago
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ajourneyforjoy · 5 months ago
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Post waystar Roman just bragging about his hot milf wife who he’s the trophy husband to with baby jr strapped to his chest
Roman plays doodle jump on his phone. Baby Jr watches him with her baby stare. He runs his hand over her hair, or head. His hand is the size of her head.
"Did you talk to my hot wife yet and tell her she needs to leave? That her husband is waiting with her small child?"
"Yes...she's just finishing up, she'll be down in ten minu-"
Roman rolls his eyes.
"Oh my god. Tell her her daughter's screaming."
Baby Jr coos.
"She'll be right dow-"
"Ten minutes isn't right down, are you hearing this?"
Baby Jr doesn't blink at her father, but she gets curious in turning her head all over.
"What's the point of having a super sexy, perfect and pussy-ready wife if she doesn't want to see me? I know she's sorta the only one work-I don't know you. Who are you? Go away. Tell her again."
"...Alright, Mr. Roy."
Roman leans his head back, eyes lowering at his daughter's way of just being a baby.
"Sorry I had to sell you out like that, but it's the only way she's gonna come down here quicker. You have a habit of doing that."
"...Ah."
Roman kisses her tuft of hair.
"Don't get cocky."
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ajourneyforjoy · 5 months ago
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YALL OMG
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every single day of the week, missionary, cowgirl, mating press, doggy, upside down, upright, sideways, in the bed, on the counters, on the desk, in the car, before breakfast, during lunch, after dinner, and so so so much more
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