#Johnny Davis

[tickettride]

Bad omen

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

pairing is johnny davis x wife!reader

in which you know something’s wrong when Johnny doesn’t come home one night. Instinct tells you the Kid has something to do with it—you just don’t know how deep it goes. Based on Johnny's last scene, except for some details.

word count: 5,7k

warnings: complete angst, blood, violence, mentions of death, hospital, hopefully no big mistakes

A/N: : I knew I wanted to write something about Johnny’s last scene ever since I rewatched the movie. Something angsty? Absolutely. And then I fell upon one of my favorite x-files scenes in which Scully is filled with both sorrow and rage, thinking that her man is going to die. It helped me so much. That’s how I’d have reacted in front of the kid. Or at least what I’d have thought. It took me weeks to write something I really liked, and even longer to finish it. Sorry if it feels rushed!

based on the same universe as one of my previous fics

“I thought he’d eat with us,” Joan repeated for the third time, her doe eyes dropping to her empty plate. 

Instead of sighing into the silence like you’d done for the past hours, you kissed the top of her head and faked a smile against her soft hair. Your mother used to do the same. With a big smile on her lips, you could never tell how bad it really was. 

"Daddy's been real busy lately. Probably caught up with some papers or somethin'."

“He said he’d take us to the movies,” Lynn added, chewing on the rest of her food. 

What could you even tell them? Johnny had made lots of promises lately. None of them had seen the light of the day, drowned by his worries about the club, about Benny, about the young ones wanting to join. It was a miracle he’d kissed you goodbye that morning.

“I know, honey.”

Scraping your chair back, you took your plate to the sink and started running the hot water to wash it up. Joan came up behind you and handed hers, always first to finish. 

“You’ll read to us?” 

“I will,” you assured her, though you couldn’t see yourself tucking them in when you had no fucking idea where Johnny had gone. They’d ask for their daddy at least ten times before accepting to close their eyes. “Go get a book.”

Joan happily walked away while Lynn ate in comfortable silence, her feet dangling as she hummed something. The driveway was empty, just like it had been five minutes ago. 

You’d promised him a fine meal and a nice night in to make up for the long shifts you’d taken at work these past few weeks, sweet words along with a swift kiss on his temple. The girls had let out a scream that had your heart stop beating for a second, only to realize they were just playing hide-and-seek and laughing hysterically. And Johnny had grunted in response, his eyes on the newspapers spread on the table. You’d thought he’d got the message then, but maybe that distant agreement had meant ‘whatever you say’. 

Your face shrouded in disappointment as something resembling anger bubbled in your chest. 

So much for trying. The girls had asked about him ever since they came back from school, and you were running low on answers. 

Minutes later, the book was finished—you read the last chapter twice—the girls were changed into their pajamas, and you lectured them for being rude to each other. Sweet words were exchanged, the girls wished each other good night, and you closed their bedroom door with a rock lodged in your throat. He would never have left without telling you. Johnny was a man who liked his peace; he didn’t have Benny’s reckless spirit.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

The thoughts were torturing and endless as you swept the last shirt from the pile of clean clothes on the bed, catching a whiff of his smell as you took it to the closet for a hanger. Another look was thrown out the window as you carried the empty basket, swallowing the negative images. 

For the first time in months, you’d taken an entire day off and he wasn’t even there. Maybe he was at the club, getting his third round of drinks fetched by Cal or someone else while you were there, getting yourself sick over him. Maybe he was out there bleeding to death. 

With a sigh, you halted in your steps. 

Stop it. He’s just late. 

Yet, the late afternoon bled into the night, the time passing to a soundtrack of light rain and enthusiastic actors on TV, and the distinctive sound of keys jingling never echoed. Rising to stretch out your stiff limbs, your gaze dropped on the framed photo on the cabinet. Your parents had taken the same photograph thirty years ago. The dress was the same. The looks were just as sincere. On your wedding day, Johnny had promised it would never end–his hand on your hip meant so. 

Angry with yourself, with him, with the club, you pushed a strand of hair out of your face and grabbed the phone receiver, hesitating a second before dialing your sister. Faster than any other babysitter, she walked through your door with concern edged over her soft features, already knowing. 

“He left?”

“No,” you said coolly, tired of repeating yourself. “He’s just out somewhere and that’s unusual.”

Your sister looked tired, maybe more tired than you. Still, she picked up on her babysitting habits and plopped down where you’d been sitting a few seconds before, turning the volume up. 

“Is that Paul Newman?”

You barely glanced at the screen, too focused on checking that you got anything you needed. Your keys, some cash just in case. A quick trip to the bar to make sure he was okay, and you’d be back. 

“Mmh, yeah. Might be.”

“He looks fine.”

“The girls are sleepin’,” you ignored her, not in the mood to gossip about men's looks when yours was missing. “Tell them I’ll be back soon if they ever wake up, and… put them back to bed.”

“Sure. No problem.”

Letting out another sigh, you kissed the top of her head and thanked her before gently slamming the door behind yourself. 

The chilly hair nipped at your skin, begging you to turn around and slip on a jacket or a pair of pants to cover your legs. Instead, you slid into the passenger seat and hovered the key near the ignition for a second. Another fuck it slipped past your lips and the car roared to life. After all, he could be at the hospital for all you knew, and you wouldn’t know until the next day. Better safe than sorry. 

The roads were empty and familiar, and it didn’t take long for you to find a parking spot in front of the Hi-Hat Club. Smoke lingered in the air, like halos above the men’s heads. The air inside was filled with smoke too and the flickering light of the neons greeted you like it did any other night. Yet, you could practically hear everyone’s breath halting as you crossed the room towards the bar, where one of the guys you didn’t quite recognize lingered, his eyes trained on you. Like everyone else. There was something odd in the air, a bad omen. 

Your name didn’t seem to ring a bell with the man wiping glasses. A newbie, you guessed. It felt ridiculous to be offended by this, but you couldn't help feeling it nonetheless. Everyone knew you were Johnny’s wife. Wasn’t that obvious? 

Though the club was close to making you scrap your hair, it was a family you’d come to accept years ago. You’d been there at the very beginning, back when it was nothing but a project in Johnny’s mind. Now his mind was plagued with fears and anger, and your face was one of a distant relative he once knew. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you sighed exasperatedly, resting your sweaty palms on the bar. “D’you know where he is?”

“Johnny? Haven’t seen him today. He ain’t gonna show up here again anytime soon, if you wanna know.”

Through his casual British tone, you could tell it was some sort of secret he’d been dying to share. And you were human after all, so curiosity piqued and your narrowed eyes focused on him. 

“Why’s that?”

Next to you, a loud manly roar of laughter erupted, close to shaking the walls. It pissed you off even more that you didn’t even know who those young guys were. Johnny would never have let them in. No, the club wasn’t a daycare, he’d said once. Those young ones had different views on the matters at hand, and they’d ruin the spirit with their ideas. 

“Gonna shut his mouth myself,” the one in the middle snickered, nursing a drink while the others around laughed. 

You couldn’t help but glare in pure disgust. Or maybe that thing you felt was pity. Surely the kid wasn’t older than twenty or twenty one. Already dreaming of violence like this was the one thing that would get him to the top. Or the gun showing out of his jeans. 

“What happened with him?” you turned back to the man standing behind the bar, twisting your wedding ring around your finger. 

He busied himself with pouring two glasses of some amber liquid, the thick grayish locks covering his forehead hiding his frown. “Doesn’t like the change. But it’s gonna happen, whether he wants it or not.”

Nodding solemnly, you looked over at the table where you’d first met. Now, two men and a girl who looked barely legal occupied it, unaware of the history beneath their feet. 

You swallowed another rock in your throat, willing yourself to stay strong until you found your husband. Then, you could lash out at him and make him feel sorry. 

Beside you, the group rose to their feet, downing the last of their beer in a single gulp, letting it drown their already drunken minds. As they passed, they shot daggers at your back. You didn’t bother to care.

“I need to find him,” your voice wavered, but your confidence remained. “It’s urgent.”

“We all do, love.”

Out of desperation and frustration, your palms hit the bar. The thud had everyone's head turned to your direction, judging you or recalling you from that time you’d smacked a man’s cheek for groping you. The rumors that you were mad and unstable had only hurt the first week. 

The thud had also reached the group that lingered behind the door, their cigarettes in mouth. Only one of them wasn’t smoking. The leader, you’d guessed. His eyes fixed on you, cautiously watching. 

“His two little girls are worried sick about him,” you said lowly, a cold edge to your tone. “I’m not goin’ home until I’ve found him. So, please, call someone who might know ‘cause I’m not movin'.”

Instead of telling you to fuck off, the man stared at you. “He didn’t lie ‘bout you.”

“What did he say?”

“That you’re a fierce one.”

A desperate sigh left your mouth, joined by a desperate expression you hoped would make him spill more secrets. It was time you’d stop thinking you could intimidate men. Pushing them away was easier than getting answers.

“I don’t give a damn about bein’ fierce. I wanna know where my husband is.”

The man looked over your shoulder for a second, thinking to himself before he put his attention back on you. “I think he was meetin’ with the lads over there. A fist or knives meeting, y’know.”

With a quick nod of his chin, he indicated the small group behind the door. You followed the direction, instantly meeting that young man’s eyes. His gaze didn’t waver at first; no, he looked at you as though he was considering something, and it seemed to leave his brain at the same time as he trailed behind his friends. That same boyish expression on his face had replaced the doubt. 

“I’ve never seen ‘em before.”

“Me either. They’re just kids who want more than what they have.”

The nod you gave him was small, defeated. Now Johnny’s stories made sense, and you could put a face on the nickname he’d given. The Kid. The death of me. He’d had tears in his eyes telling you Benny was gone. It’s only exhaustion. The same kid with a gun. Dreaming of violence. Gonna shut his mouth myself. The death of me.

You had to find him. 

“Where they meetin’?” 

“Either the place in front of Brucie’s or behind that bar downtown. The one with the blue lights.”

The blue lights. You’d been there once with Kathie. You looked over your shoulder again before some sixth sense warned you. 

You dashed to the door where you stopped short, your fists clenched. Every cell in your body filled with desperation as you watched the young ones ride away, and you ran toward Johnny's car, your breath coming in shallow pants as you reached for the car keys in your handbag. You nearly drove into a pole while turning around, but it didn’t matter. You made it to Brucie’s empty house in record time, where there should have been dozens of bikes lined up or a few cars waiting, engines idling, their drivers watching to see who’d hit first. Who’d shoot first. But no one was there.

“Fuck!” you yelled into the silence, hitting the wheel as you sped up. 

It didn’t take long to reach the bar with the blue lights. You remembered Kathie telling you it was a meetup spot for junkies, but you’d always brushed it off with a laugh. Now, squinting through the windshield, you saw what she meant. You’d been too blinded by foolish love to notice just how dangerous it looked from the outside.

Fear choked you, but nowhere near as much as spotting what was on the other side of the building. Behind the familiar cars you often saw through your window, Johnny had his back to you. His leather jacket hugged his shoulders tightly. You couldn’t tell which shirt he’d put on. The red one, maybe. All you saw was the metal glinting in his hand–that damn knuckle duster. 

Corky and Wahoo stood there, the smoke of their cigarette flying above their heads. Others talked among themselves, as the show hadn’t begun yet. 

Your seatbelt was unclipped as Johnny started walking in that kid’s direction, fumbling with something in his hands. A cigarette, too. Then he slid his knife out of his back pocket with his usual confidence. Oblivious to the bullet awaiting him. Although the thought that the young man would only threaten him to get what he wanted had crossed your mind, you knew the outcome would be bloodier, if not deadlier. His look had faded into a deathly quiet upon you, because he’d realized you were Johnny’s wife. That wouldn’t stop him, though. 

The cold in your veins froze to ice as your hand shot out to the handle, slamming the door open as you yelled our heart out. Not loud enough to be heard. Or maybe all of them were just too focused on the adrenaline to make out your familiar form in the shadows, crashing onto Corky’s back, whose arms held you back. Once again, you were the invisible mad woman, the unstable and now paranoid one. 

“Johnny!”

He had no time to turn around. The kid shot, and a dull thunk sounded as his body hit the ground. Numb. For a second, you were completely numb. 

The body you loved more than anything, the body who’d shielded you and loved you was reduced to nothing but a weight, a target. His daughters were sleeping, waiting for him to come home, and here he laid, unmoving. Dead. 

The scream that left your throat then was inhumane. 

Someone held your waist as you began thrashing wildly, yelling nonsense as your heart broke over and over again. Screaming so long and loud that your voice cracked, watching your husband’s sweet soul planning over his head. 

When you finally broke free from Corky’s grasp, you pounded back toward Johnny’s lifeless form, ignoring the eyes burning into your back as you ran harder than ever before. Your knees screamed in protest as you dropped to the floor, reaching for him. The ground scraped the skin beneath the rim of your dress, but the red staining your knees was nothing compared to the crimson spreading across his chest.

“No!”

His head was heavy as you held it up, your trembling thumbs on his cheeks as the feeling of helplessness began to take hold.

So heavy. But not one breath was coming out of his nose, and his blood kept pooling on the ground. 

“Oh, God–oh–what has he done?”

Another strangled cry escaped your throat as you yelled his name, hoping he would feel your presence and blink. When nothing happened and the world went on spinning, your heart seemed to crush in your chest. The eyes who only seemed to light up for you remained empty. 

“No… pleasepleaseplease,” you sobbed, unable to remember where you were supposed to check for his pulse. Your sister would have known. Instead, you pressed a hand over the red spot on his shirt, where the blood spurted over. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave us yet.”

Your name was called somewhere in the distance, but you ignored it. The others were standing just behind, frozen, terrified all of this was real. Only one of them dropped to their knees beside you, yelling to get some help as he closed Johnny’s eyes with a gentle move. Shouts broke out behind you but your heartbeat drummed in your ears, swallowing the sounds.

You watched in horror his closed eyes, his fatal and decisive end. Just like that, he was slipping away from the world, from you. 

Cold fingers were placed on your shoulder. “We’ll take him t–”

A wave of pure panic swept over you as you realized that they’d take him away from you, forever. 

“No!” your raw voice echoed through the stillness, the kind of stubbornness that would have Johnny smirk at himself. “Don’t–no!”

Inhaling shakily, you looked at his tired face. You’d spent an hour studying him just a week before. But now wasn’t the time to get some rest. Not today. You’d spend the rest of your life making him coffee if you had to, but he couldn’t give in to his exhaustion. 

“He’s still there,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I know it.”

You tried to feel his pulse on his neck, but it was hard to feel a thing when your fingers trembled so much, buzzing over his chilled skin. Finally, you rightfully pressed your fingertips just below his jaw and leaned down to listen to his breathing, with your heart painfully clamoring in your chest. His had to beat the same. What would you even do without him? You stayed for a long moment, the sounds of your pain filling the silence as you stained his sweet face with his own blood. Cradling him, warming him. Panicking.

And eventually, a tiny, tiny huff of air brushed your cheek. 

You stilled. And felt it again. 

With that, a small cry of relief escaped you. 

“He’s breathin’!” You looked up from one man to the other—then realizing the other group had vanished. “He’s breathin’.”

From then, everything seemed to speed up. Hope reached their eyes again. Tears squirted into your frightened eyes, and you pressed a hand to your lips, staring down at his closed eyes. He had to live. He had to think about all the beautiful years awaiting you, with all the plans you’d made together. And you, you had to hold that ray of hope. 

“I’m not leavin’ you,” you promised in his ear, holding his face like you would hold a precious china. “I’m sorry I was so rude this morning. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

Though the tears continued streaming and drenching his cheek, you kept kissing his face, knowing he’d feel it somehow. 

“The girls are waitin’ for you.”

Your own words had you bursting into loud sobs again. Any other time, you would have felt ashamed for such extravagance in front of the men. But the pain and the fear were too loud to leave any place to reason, and those same men felt the same, deep down.

“We gotta take him to the hospital.”

Shaking your head, you looked up in panic and met Wahoo’s distressed eyes. 

“You can’t move him. You gotta–you gotta get a doctor here.”

“We’ve got no time to wait for a doctor. We have to take him there.”

His eyes were still shut tight. His chest barely moved. The blood kept spilling. If he stayed here, he’d lose too much blood. 

More convinced, you gave them a small nod and watched them pick him up, four of them carrying his body. All wanting to show how much he meant to them, and how much he’d given them. 

The gravel dug painfully into your thigh, but you couldn’t get up, not even with Wahoo’s words of encouragement. Even after blotting your eyes on your sleeve, the tears made their faces swim before you. 

“C’mon, we’ll go with him,” he told you, though it did little to make you move. 

“He can’t die.”

“He won’t if you’re there with him,” he promised, balancing you to your feet. “Trust me.”

The ride to the hospital passed in a blur. It seemed like you’d used all your tears until Corky pulled into the parking lot, carefully throwing you looks in the rearview mirror. Your crying resumed silently, watching as they took his body out of the car before you. 

The walk to the reception was just as hazy. Johnny was rushed inside by the same men who’d held him earlier and laid on a stretcher by a couple of nurses who asked you for his name and basic information. Your lips pressed a long kiss to his forehead, and your bottom lip quivered as they took him straight to another room, with words you didn’t understand and a tone that did nothing to soften your worries. 

They made you wait in a room much too small for the eight of you. At first, you were willing to wait hours until the doctor found you. The same one who’d saved Benny’s foot a lifetime ago. But the image of that kid’s face wouldn’t leave your mind. One man had almost destroyed your lives. He would have killed your daughters without an ounce of regret, but the rage inside him didn’t equal yours. The grief turned into a deep wrath, unmovable. 

Your faraway gaze fixed on Corky, who frowned up at you. “Give me your keys.” 

“I’m not givin’ you nothin’.”

Blinking slowly at him, you swallowed and sniffled hard, wiping your nose with the hem of your sleeve. “At least give me your jacket. I need some air.”

Hesitantly, under the gazes of the others, Corky slipped off his leather jacket and handed it out to you. You thanked him silently and refused when one of the men asked if you needed company. You just needed ten minutes. 

The clicking of your heels echoed on the hospital walls as you strode to the front door, not slowing down your pace. As you’d hoped, the keys were in the left pocket. 

You only realized how much the car smelled of smoke when you settled behind the wheel, with a slightly clearer mind and sharper feelings. Corky’s shouting barely reached you before you drove off back to the Hi-Hat Club.

As though knowing their leader was close to death, the bar was even more empty than before. The lights were dimmer, solemn, too. Still, you spotted the same figure wiping off the glasses—he’d waited for you. 

“Where does he live?”

Your bluntness seemed to set him off, as he looked at your eyes and ran a hand around the back of his neck. Words weren’t necessary. Just the truth.

The man spilled the address with a careful tone, his eyes sweeping over the bar across your shoulder. After making sure the kid wasn’t sitting in a corner, you nodded in thanks and went back to the car. You thought about your daughters during the whole ride. And finally, you stopped in that dark, concealed alleyway the man had told you about. The small knife Corky had left in the glove compartment, rusty but sharp, felt heavy on your hand, but it was nothing compared to the way Johnny’s head had felt. Because his held all the memories he had, and the knife might have only threatened a few people here and there. 

Occasionally a car dashed past, reminding you that the world hadn’t stopped behind. People were sleeping in the houses around, kissing their children goodnight. 

Emotion threatened to choke you, but you didn’t let it. Not here anyway, in a car that wasn’t even yours. The air was foul with stale tobacco smoke and spilled beer. And he was there, somewhere behind that door. 

You got out slowly.

“Jane?”

You spun around. 

The boy you’d been looking for stared back at you, and as he came close he saw that you were not, indeed, Jane. He recognized you instantly, though he only nodded slightly as a sign. His eyes looked just as empty. It seemed like he’d lost all his boyish cockiness to that bullet, and had acquired a somber air ever since. More grown up since his first kill. 

You didn’t scream, but tears ran down your face.

You took a step forward as he took one backward, and another, until his back pressed against the brick wall and he had nowhere to turn left. He glanced down at the knife and up at your face again, judging you. 

“I’m a good person, so I ain’t gonna kill you.”

As a response, he only nodded. You nodded back in agreement. Through a mist of rage, you saw him shoot over and over again. And Johnny’s body never moved. 

“You must think it’s gonna give you the right to do what you want with the club.” Your voice raised with each word, as cold as your husband’s face and as the blade in your tight grip. “But if Johnny dies because of what you’ve fuckin’ done, I’ll make sure you wish I’d stabbed you, you worthless piece of shit!”

He was silent, and at first you thought he was sulkily refusing to answer. But in fact he was just taking it in, perhaps even realizing what he’d done. None of that mattered anyway. The mad woman had screamed in the alleyway, and the young man had kept his mouth shut. 

The knife dropped to the floor with a sickening thud. 

“And if I ever, so help me God, see you lingerin’ around the club thinkin’ you have every right to just because your cock has grown last summer, I won’t hesitate. You hear me?”

He didn’t laugh, nor dismissed you like you’d half expected. The kid’s gaze fell on the street on his left, where the lights were on and the people oblivious. 

“You’re a sick bastard,” you muttered as you sniffled harshly, letting out a shaky breath as you walked back to the car. 

Somehow, you felt a part of the weight lifted off your shoulders. Now was time to pray like your mother had done for your father, with her hands joined together against the bed. 

Corky was waiting when you were back, sitting with his elbows on his knees. You didn’t bother parking carefully either, and slightly blamed yourself for having left his knife on the ground there. Did he consider it a precious item, or would he just yell at your stupidity? Standing in front of him, you ran a hand through your hair and blew out a long breath that he mirrored. He did neither of these things. He just eyed you warily as you opened the door and staggered to your feet. 

“Feelin’ better?”

With a quick nod, not wanting to let him know you’d threatened a young man like some psycho, you followed him in where the smell made your knees weaken. 

“He’s still in surgery?” you dared to ask as you passed a crying mother, tearing your eyes off of her. 

“They sent him to another room to rest.”

Another breath of relief left your lips. He was alive. Maybe not fine yet, but alive. 

You couldn’t see him yet. You stood from the chair every time a nurse rushed past the waiting room, but none of them came to bear you the good news. So you lingered as long as you dared, till your spin grew numb and your stomach growled, along with Corky, who stood so suddenly you thought something had happened. 

“Fuckin’ hungry waitin’ here.”

He left you with the others, two of them you sent home to their wives. It only left you here with Wahoo, whose eyes never left the wall ahead. He seemed to pray for a second. 

“You can go home too, you know. I won’t blame you if you do.”

“I’m stayin’,” was all he said. 

So you nodded tiredly. “Thank you.”

No one spoke until an hour later, when a tall and lanky man with a white blouse told you to follow him. Your heart threatened to burst out of your chest as your pace matched with his, upstairs, and to the first room on the right. 

"He was damn lucky," the doctor finally spoke, peeking his head through the cracked open door. "The bullet missed his heart by inches, and he's lost a lot of blood.” 

A quick nod told him you were listening, even though it hurt like hell to hear those words. 

Noticing your glass-eyed look, his tone softened. "You can see him now. Just don’t expect him to wake up anytime soon."

You thanked him, standing there as he vanished in the next room. Threatening a guy had made you feel so confident though shaky, so why were you almost backing up now? 

A young nurse walked past you, eyeing your dishevelled state and scrapped-up knees. After a minute or two, you finally walked in, where the dim hospital light spilled onto the bed. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor filled the silence, steady but weak. Johnny was staring hauntingly at the ceiling. 

“Johnny?” 

The room seemed to spin around as you stared at him lying there, his head tilting limply towards you. He looked so pale. They’d even removed his shirt to have his torso wrapped in bandages, replacing your arms. A thin tube ran under his nose–and that was what finally jolted you from your frozen state.

At last you finally grew closer and stammered again in a choked voice, “Johnny? It’s me.”

When his eyes finally locked on yours, a loud breath escaped your mouth. He was alive, breathing. He still had that look in his eyes.

“You know where you are?” 

“Not at home. Can’t smell ya.”

You choked on a strangled noise, caught between grief and relief. “I’m here. I’m with you. You’re at the hospital, remember?”

He grunted his response, reaching for your hand, which you gave immediately as you perched on the edge of the mattress. Your eyes flooded again. 

He knew he’d die, didn’t he? He knew the club was the death of him, and he went through this alone. 

Softly, you couldn’t help but ask, “Did you know he was gonna shoot you?”

Johnny shook his head slightly. Unsure whether he was lying, you nodded anyway and rubbed his hand in absent motion, although they were slightly warmer than when he’d lay there, the blood pooling–

“Didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he said hoarsely, watching you as though he was afraid you didn’t believe him. 

Aware that the next conversation was going to be painful, you tightened your grip around his palm. For a moment you both concentrated on your joined hands. 

“You shouldn’t have been alone.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Not then. I mean… all the other times. I mean when it started, when you knew this was gonna happen.”

Johnny swallowed hard, the effort almost too much. “I didn’t want ya in it. Didn’t want ya carryin’ this.”

“I would’ve—”

Johnny’s fingers twitched, barely, like he wanted to hold on but didn’t have the strength. “Wouldn’t have changed nothin’.”

Your gaze fell on the bandages again. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. I swear, I saw you fallin’ down…” You shook your head, beseeching him with your eyes. “Please don't jeopardize your life like that again.”

“That won’t happen again. Hear me?”

Lifting your head, your chin quaking, you asked him to promise. The kid’s face flashed through your mind. Deep down, you doubted if he’d ever try something again. He was just a lost soul who probably lacked support. But Johnny? He loved riding too much. 

“Promise,” he breathed out. 

A sigh fell from your lips. “I couldn't stop lovin’ you even if they cut the heart out of my chest."

His free hand came to circle your waist as much as he could, the gesture tugging his IV cords and shifting the metal stand. His grip was weak, but the intent was clear. He needed to feel you there, close to him. So you leaned down to kiss his brow and lay carefully by his side, making sure you weren’t hurting him.

“Where the girls?” he asked, head tilted in your direction. 

“Home.” 

The tips of his fingers grazed your forearm, feeling your skin. “And your jacket?” 

“Home,” you said again. “I rushed out.”

“You’re cold.”

“You almost died.”

“Fair enough,” his raspy voice mumbled.

You made a small sound, your expression a mixture of regret and love, for you’d done nothing but worry for weeks and the relief still was nowhere in sight. The next days, if not weeks, would not ease your soul. Not until something was done about his involvement in the club. 

"I'm sorry I said that.”

“Nah,” he managed to kiss you somehow, gently. “Don’t have to apologize for nothin’.”

With a ragged breath, your lips were back on his. Even with your wet nose and your blotchy cheeks, you pressed your weight delicately into that single kiss, like it was the last you had to offer. Johnny slid his hand over your neck and stroked the skin, just how sorry he was. You were sorry too. After all, his dreams had turned into a nightmare. 

But you weren’t going anywhere. So you accepted that this was the best outcome and pushed aside the worst. You promised him you’d help him out of his dark spots, give him a new purpose. Maybe talk to Benny first. Take up riding freely. His life could be full of possibilities. 

You fell asleep there—which was selfish, beside the man who had nearly given his life for his own cause—and didn’t even stir when a nurse came in to check on him. Drifting somewhere between sleep and reality, you barely registered his voice saying he was better now.

[carnevol]

[nerdy-novelist017]

Omg hi!!!🧚🏻‍♀️

I just wanted to pop by and tell you how much I LOVE your writing and content, makes me kick my feet reading about Benny and Bunny😫🙂‍↔️I was just wondering if mayhaps you’d write something in which Bunny gets mad at Benny for something and gives him the cold shoulder hehe. You mentioned in your most recent installment of them how she’s done that when pissed at him and I just thought it’d be so interesting to see an upset Bunny and groveling Benny😏perhaps involving the topic of jealousy or miscommunication. Have a good day/evening and feel free to ignore my yapping!!!🙈🐇

Thank you so much for your kind words! 🥹You're so sweet!!! I could never ignore your yapping, friend! Sorry this took so long to post but I wanted to get it right since this request is so stinking cute! I was going to break this up into two parts because I got a little carried away but I figured you guys probably don't mind the longer posts ;) Please let me know your thoughts on this as I love reading your comments! Hope you enjoy! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist 🐰

Word Count- 3.4k+

Love, Lids, and Lessons (Benny Cross X Shy!Reader)

Listen, Benny fucked up on a near daily basis. He’s by no means perfect and there was a lot that you overlook because you loved him and he’s still the best man you’d ever met. However, there were times where Benny pissed you off so bad that you simply couldn't excuse him. This happened to be one of those times.

You were standing beside him at the pool table during what happened to be a pretty intense moment of a game that Benny happened to be losing pretty badly. It was the third time you’d approached him, asking to leave. It wasn’t even that late but you had wanted to go because you planned to get up early the next morning to meet your girlfriends for a breakfast date. He’d told you that the two of you could leave soon, after he finished his beer. And then he told you after he finished his game. Then that game became the next game. And the current game which he happened to be losing and maybe it was that his temper with the razzing he was receiving from the members who watched the game but he just didn’t want to have to tell you one more time that you would both be leaving soon. You tugged on his sleeve again and he just said it, without a filter, without thinking. 

“Bunny, you’re being naggy.” 

That was it. Just four words that would cause him more trouble than he even realized. He didn’t mean it in a rude way; He was just trying to tell you what you were doing was annoying to him. He said way worse than that to the boys and they never reacted the way you did. 

Your mouth dropped open in shock, driven speechless by his words. He made a shrugging motion to you that said What? But the low whistled that emitted from Cal on the other side of the pool table did nothing to deescalate the embarrassment he could see bubbling in your face. You snapped your mouth shut, brows pinching together as you glanced at the others who heard. Not many, just Cal, Johnny, Betty and a few others. It was enough. When your gaze found him again there was an undeniable dark cloud in your eyes and he wanted to apologize. But you turned and walked away before he could say anything else. 

“Oh, Benny. . .” Johnny muttered with a grimace but Benny was too caught up in the taunting of the other members around the table to hear him. So he let you storm off, figuring you’d have cooled down by the time his game was over. And shortly after, his game ended (He lost, though he didn’t really find himself caring about that, not with the image of your hurt expression looping in his mind) and he said goodbye to the boys and went to find you. Only . . . you were gone. 

He found Gail who told him you had left with Kathy. He clenched his jaw and nodded. You rarely ever left with someone else, you liked to ride home with Benny. He thought maybe you were just tired and Kathy was probably leaving at the same time but a little voice in the back of his head told him it was more to it than that. He tried to ignore the way the ride home was quiet without you on the back. And when he walked through the door, you were not in the entryway where you normally stood waiting for him. No, you weren’t even in the kitchen where he’d sometimes find you during a midnight craving. Something uncomfortable gripped at his heart and he stood in the kitchen for a long time, trying to come to terms with the fact that you probably left. 

Trudging up the stairs to your bedroom, his heart skipped a beat when he saw your form laying in the bed, back facing him. He resisted the urge to go to you, sensing the way your shoulders stiffened that you were still awake. He undressed slowly, taking the time to decide what he wanted to say to you. But even as he pulled back the covers and crawled in next to you, no words ever formed in his mouth. Instead, he tried a different tactic. He pressed himself up against your body, sliding his hand over your waist, traveling it up to your breast as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

You brushed his hand away. “I’m not in the mood, Benny.”

His hand moved down to your hips instead to take it in another direction but you gripped his wrist and moved it back to his side. “I’m serious. I’m tired”

Okay, you were upset about what he’d said. He sighed and rolled onto his back, moving back to his side of the bed. He waited a few more seconds to see if you’d follow him like you normally did, but you remained steadfast in your spot so he reached over to the bedside lamp and switched it off, the room filling with darkness. He laid in that darkness for a long time, contemplating what to say, what to do. 

When Benny woke the next morning and his hand drifted over to you, he found your side of the bed empty. He frowned, glancing at the clock. It was still early and you almost never woke up before he did. And if you did, you just wanted to snuggle with him in bed. With an odd feeling in the pit of his gut, he got up and dressed, seeking you out. He found you in the kitchen, wearing an apron with little flowers embroidered on the fabric. You stood at the island, frosting cupcakes that he didn’t know you planned on taking with you. 

“Mornin’,” he said as he approached, making his way over to make a cup of coffee. You only hummed in response. He turned back around to face you, leaning against the opposite countertop, feeling as though the space between you was as wide as an ocean. He watched you for a moment as you set down the cupcake you were working on, the delicate desert now freshly adorned with baby pink frosting. You reached forward to start on the next one and that’s when he spoke again. “You need help with that?” 

“No,” you replied, avoiding eye-contact. A heavy silence filled the kitchen as he sipped meekly at his coffee and you finished frosting the cupcakes. It’d be better to just rip off the band-aid, he decided. He wasn’t going to go his whole day pretending he didn’t know that you were giving him your traditional cold-shoulder response. So he said, “You still mad about last night?”

Your eyes flashed up to his for just a moment. “What do you think, Benny?” 

“About what I said? C’mon . . .” He didn’t even mean it in a rude way! Sometimes you were so sensitive and he truly didn’t understand you. Johnny had told him once that women were a completely different creature than them. And as Benny watched you furiously frost your cupcakes, he really felt the impact of that statement.  “I didn’t mean it. You know that. I was a little drunk and–”

“Oh you were drunk?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Well, in that case, I’ll just let you get away with whatever you want when you’re drunk. Won’t let anything affect me at all!”

Hmm. He didn’t think that’s what you were gonna say to that. Benny hated it when you verbally put him in a corner like this, didn’t let him get away with his half-assed apologies that never actually use the phrase ‘I’m sorry.’ It always made him get defensive, made his temper flare and he’d end up doing more damage than good nearly every time.

“You were naggin’ and you know it. I don’t know if it was because you wanted to go home or if you were jealous that someone else had my attention for a moment and you didn’t–”

“Jealous?” The word echoed off the cupboards. “Are you kidding me?”

“Bunny–” he groaned but you cut him off. 

“Don’t Bunny me right now,” you griped, eyes narrowing as you began placing the cupcakes in the portable carrier he had surprised you with for your birthday a few months ago. “Jealous? You honestly think I was jealous? Or are you just sayin’ that because you want to get a rise out of me?”

“Well, I’m just tryin to say–” he stopped short as he caught your sharp gaze. “I just. . . Don’t you think you’re overreacting about this?”

Your mouth formed a thin line, jaw clenching. You stared at him for a few agonizingly long moments before you shook your head, muttering, “You–” 

Benny was dying to know what you were about to say but only observed as you removed your apron, folded it neatly and placed it back in the drawer before you grabbed your portable tray and left the kitchen. Like a moth to flame, he followed you as you went to the door, pausing only to slide your feet into the kitten heels you had lined up at the baseboard. Without saying another word, you opened the door and left. But he trailed after you, standing on the porch, he wordlessly watched as you descended the stairs and walked down the stone pathway to the white picket fencing you had always talked about and opened the little gate. 

“Damn thing,” you grumbled under your breath as you fought with the broken hinge of the gate to close it properly behind you, the sound squeaking obnoxiously. 

“When are you comin’ back?” he hollered after you, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“Later.” Was your vague answer before you got into your car and left Benny still standing on the porch, front door ajar and eyes narrowed. 

******

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Benny stood to his full height and took a step back to take in the shiny new hinge on the gate he just installed. He tried opening and closing it a few times, admiring the way it worked soundlessly. Good as new, he thought. Fixing physical things like door hinges and motorcycle parts, those were easy. Benny was good with his hands, he could tinker around and fix just about anything he set his mind to. But fixing emotional things. . . those were not so easy for Benny. Apologies were rare and he’s never one to throw them out like confetti as you so often did. You apologized too much and he’s told you that you shouldn’t apologize for half the things you do. 

He’d had a lot of time to think about what happened and his mood certainly shifted more than once during his front gate project. At first, mild annoyance because what he said to you was hardly an insult. Then, it might have been due to the sun beating down on him while he worked, but genuine anger replaced the annoyance because you were so damn sensitive and there were times he felt he had to walk on eggshells around you. But the anger quickly fizzled out when he thought about how your sensitivity was what made you special. It was what helped you be so empathetic, so caring toward everyone you came across. And by the time he’d finished fixing the gate, the only feeling that smothered him was a painfully present regret. Regret for what he had said, but also for what he hadn’t. An apology was something you deserved, but he didn’t give it to you, not in an appropriate way. 

So when you came home, hours later, he watched from the living room window as your car pulled in front of the house. You exited the car, and he almost held his breath as you opened the gate, taking a moment to open and close it a few times. You definitely noticed he’d fixed it. Good, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear yet.

You came inside and it was clear that you were still upset by the way you moved. He could see your shoulder stiffen when you noticed him there, could see the pouty lip of yours pull into a slight frown. You hardly spoke to each other the rest of the day. You didn’t mention the gate and he didn’t bring it up. 

******

The next morning Benny was up before you, as usual. At least that was back to normal. He went downstairs and started a pot of coffee as he got ready for work. He grabbed his lunchbox, preparing to make himself a lunch for work when he stopped short, noticing that there was already a lunch packed in there, complete with one of your pink-frosted cupcakes. His heart squeezed at the realization that you still packed him a lunch, something you did every workday for him, even though you were upset with him. You . . . the sweet creature that he still didn’t completely understand. And he needed to do something.

Fortunately Benny had another trick up his sleeve, and playing dirty didn’t matter to him when it came to getting your attention again. 

******

You didn’t sleep well last night, laying awake all night with a heartsick frown, wishing nothing more than for the man who lay just within an arm's reach from you to actually comfort you – in a way that you wanted to be comforted. And tears threatened to spill when you realized, even just for a moment, you wished he could be someone who was a bit more empathetic, a bit more compatible to you. This wasn’t the worst thing he’s said and you’ve had your fights over much worse, but in all your time together, this was the first time you’d ever had that thought. Maybe it was because this was the first time you had both ignored it, both choosing to go to bed angry and upset rather than to work through it. The storm in your heart still surged on, albeit a bit more due to sadness rather than anger, as you slipped on your babydoll pink robe over your nightgown. You tried not to think about Benny at all as you put your hair up in rollers and applied your makeup for the day. You couldn’t hide in the bedroom all day unfortunately, so you traipsed downstairs, bare feet padding softly against each step until you entered the kitchen where you found Benny sitting at one of the island chairs, the daily paper spread out on the countertop before him. 

He looked up when he heard you. “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” you parroted as you went to the pantry to grab out your ingredients to start breakfast. You started your tea, grabbing the jar of honey off the shelf and a flower mug. You turned your back to Benny and started to twist the lid off the honey jar . . . only it was really stuck on there. Readjusting your hands, you gave it another go, but still it didn’t budge. Setting your jaw in place, you glanced over your shoulder at your husband who was still looking down at his newspaper. Normally, you would immediately hand something over to Benny to open for you, but you were still mad at him which meant you’ll have to go without honey in your tea. 

So instead you started making your bagel for breakfast, a go-to breakfast meal for workday mornings. Popping the bagel in the toaster, you took the homemade strawberry jam out of the fridge and frowned when you realized that lid was also screwed on extra tight too. You turned to face your partner, reluctantly asking, “Can you open this?”

He looked up at you, eyes glancing down at the jam jar and he held out his hand. “I’ll open it for you if you talk to me.”

In no mood to play his games, you rolled your eyes. “Forget it. I can do it myself.”

You turned back around, feeling his gaze burning into you as you grabbed a dish rag and placed it over the lid to get a better grip. You twisted hard, tongue darting out between your teeth as you concentrated on opening it. It seemed as though a mutant with superhuman strength had sealed this lid last – which was strange considering you were the only person in the house who ever used it. You peaked back at Benny who watched you blatantly so you stuck your chin out defiantly as you put the jar back down on the countertop. Fine, you’d just put peanut butter on your bagel instead. You scooped up the peanut butter jar, this time facing him as you twisted the lid and you nearly screamed in frustration when you felt how tightly this lid was as well. 

Wordlessly, he held out his hand across the countertop, waiting patiently as you crossed your arms, mentally debating if you could go without any of these items on your bagel.

Ding! You both glanced over as your perfectly-browned bagel popped up from the toaster. You sighed through your nose, biting your bottom lip as defeat settled in. You grabbed the jam, honey and peanut butter jars and slid them on the countertop before him. 

“Okay, fine,” you admittedly softly and watched as he made it look so effortless as he opened the lid with a satisfying pop. You muttered a quick thanks and reached for the jar but he leaned backwards, holding the jar just out of your reach. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he spoke, eyes earnestly searching your face. “What I said at the bar – about you askin’ to go home. You weren’t being naggy, I should have listened to you the first time. That was my own fault. I was just getting so caught up in that stupid game and it wasn’t even important. Not like you are. And what I said embarrassed you and that was wrong.” He rose from his seat, moving around the counter to stand before you as he said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his apology. Only a handful of times have you heard those words leave his mouth and you knew he never said them if he wasn’t completely meaningful. You nodded but then remembered his use of vocabulary last night. “And what you said about me bein’ jealous?”

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “I’m not apologizin’ for that because you really do confuse me sometimes, Bunny. I thought maybe you were jealous and when you stop communication’ with me, I feel even more lost than usual.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” you accepted as you crossed your arms. “But I don’t want to talk to you when I’m upset. Maybe I want you to do the talking for once.”

He furrowed his brow in thought as he looked over at the toaster. “Well, why don’t we make a promise to each other that we can go to bed angry if we want, but come morning, we talk about it over breakfast. No more putting it off for multiple days. We have to deal with it so that we can move past it.”

You considered that for a moment. “Yeah, that sounds alright.”

He took your hands in his own and dipped forward to place a soft kiss to your cheek. When he began to pull back, your hand flew up to gently encase the side of his face, holding him there as you met him halfway and kissed his lips in a physical show to prove you had accepted his apology. And if that wasn’t good enough, you whispered against his lips, “I forgive you.”

His arms circled around your waist pulling you into his lean frame in a tight hug that seemed to melt away all the stress that built between you two. 

“How did you know that I would use the honey today?” you asked with a tilt of your head, figuring he must be the reason for the right lids. 

“I didn’t. I tightened all the jars.”

“Benny!” you laughed, playfully slapping his bicep. 

He lowered his hands behind your hips, lifting you quickly onto the kitchen countertop, grinning at the squeal you let out at the sudden shift. 

“Let me make it up to you, Bunny? Please?” he begged, voice teasing but you could see the sincerity, the desperation in his ocean blue eyes.

“I’m gonna be late for work,” you giggled as he buried his face into the spot between your jaw and collarbone, that sweet spot he knew got you weak in the knees every time he placed his mouth there. “I need to leave in a few minutes.”

“You might wanna call in sick then,” he murmured against your skin as he kissed up your neck, “‘Cuz I got plans for you that’s gonna last longer than a few minutes.”

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @twisteduniverse5 @justsomewritingblog @nhlfs @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @thedreamingfish99

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

sweet talkin’

main hive 🐝 | next part here: honey, are you comin’?

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which “uncle benny” picks up johnny’s girls from school and finds some honey along the way ;)

warnings: not much of anything besides talks of danger & some side eyes from on-lookers. an absolute fluff cake of a piece really. enjoy! x

author’s note: ngl there is some inaccuracies. i fully made up locations & such. never been to chicago or illinois even, but maybe someday :)

word count: 2.8k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You remember it like it was yesterday, the very first time you met Benny Cross. Ironically, it was one of those sticky sweet days in June, just before the start of summer ‘65. The Chicago heat was hard to beat in the cramped little classroom you worked in on Phipps Avenue. Your third graders were all flushed faces with curly cues frizzing about, and their red little cheeks burned in exhaustion. It was no surprise that you lost their ears to the tsk tsk tsk of sprinklers swirling about on the school grounds. Even though the principal was against it, you were rather relieved to see your students running about the wet grass come dismissal.

It was a lovely reprieve, truly to be out of the shoe box you worked in at the end of the day. Sure, the heat hadn’t let up. It was awfully sweltering passing clammy hand to clammy hand to their designated pick up person. But you loved being a teacher. Moreseo you loved those sweet turned up smiles that graced those baby faces of your students as they chatted about their after school plans. Heading down to the local pool or picking up a firecracker pop at the corner store was such a sweet treat. It made you miss being that young again, finding hidden treasures through the little bits of life.

You moved like clockwork during dismissal, attentive as you made small talk with parents and hugged your students goodbye. The pick of the cycle was usually smooth on your part. You knew who tended to be retrieved right away and who was left hanging, so it took you by a hint of surprise when you found yourself still hand in hand with Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s little girls.

You knew the Davis’s well — as well as anyone could holding residence in the quaint village of McCook, Illinois. Mr. Davis and his wife Betty were perishoners at the local church you frequented with your Ma and Pa. St. Caron’s on the corner of Rose and Dawn. You’d see them all together in their Sunday best, the kids in puff pastry kind-of dresses packed together in a pew with their Ma, while their Pa was mulling about in his pressed suit and tie. There was no trace of the Vandals you’d come to know, the Johnny that would be amplified under that some-what imposterous clean cut demeanor. You’d see him solemn as ever ushering pew to pew with the collections basket for the poor and at communion during the mass.

Yet, if you had to name one thing that complimented Johnny to Mr. Davis, it had to be his consistency with being on time. Never once was he ever late to church. 12pm sharp he’d be looking at his watch, waitin’ for the priest and deacon to do their thang. The same applied for his children and their respected school schedule.

It took you a moment to remember the note from the office that was sent up in the afternoon. In your defense, mastering concentration in this heat proved almost impossible. Until it wasn’t. You could see the lovely writing of the secretary with that neat cursive of hers in the back of your mind, reminding you that the Davis girls would be picked up by their Uncle Benny come dismissal.

That would explain it, you thought. But would it really? Fathoming a member of Mr. Davis’s family not being as meticulous as him? You momentarily wondered how the man would react to such a thing as being late. You were sure it wasn’t in his vocabulary by any means.

Your fingers, engulfing the petite ones of the Davis girls, squeezed their hands reassuringly. “M’sure your Uncle Benny will be here any moment.” Neither of them said anything as you glanced between the two flanked at your sides, little eyelashes blinking up at you without a care in the world. And here you thought they would be just as anal-retentive as their father.

They weren’t.

Since the school yard was becoming less compact with people, and the principal put an end to the fun with the sprinklers, you figured some chit-chat wouldn't hurt to keep them occupied. “You girls have any fun afternoon plans?”

The Davis girl on the right, taller, darker hair, lookin’ far too much like her father — a carbon copy if you will — spoke up then. “Yes! Uncle Benny is takin’ us to a picnic. Gonna see Daddy race his bike, Miss. Honey.”

A bike race, huh? You couldn’t remember seeing anything in the McCook weekly papers ‘bout an upcoming cycling event. But, hey maybe you happened to miss it on your skim of the thing, when your Pa just so happened to put it down for a second durin’ dinner.

“Well, ain’t that sweet!” You chirped, smiling brightly at the girls with genuine excitement in your eyes. “Sure it’ll be tons of fun.”

“S’not when Daddy gets all muddy.” The smaller girl, the one that looked more like her mother. Lighter hair and lighter eyes said. Her tiny face contorted into a grimace.

Muddy? Weren’t cycling races on the roads?

Surely the town would block off the streets like they did for those celebratory parades. The little one was probably exaggerating.

“Aw,” you hummed, a frown dousing your features. “M’sure your Pa is just real dedicated, y’know?” You tried to bring out the bright side for your student. “S’like when you buy a fresh book and worry about those pages dentin’. Y’won’t know if you like it if you don’t read it, right?” The girls nodded. “Dentin’ the pages just goes to show all that love you had for that book while readin’ it.”

“I guess…” The Davis girl shrugged, tiny fingers wrapping about the strap of her pretty pink backpack. Seemingly, she wasn’t as impressed as her sister to the right.

You were gonna change the subject. Gonna start chatting ‘bout something else, when a twist of tiers against the pavement sent a squeak across the air. Your mother-hen instincts kicked in instantly, protective hands pulling the girls behind you without a second thought. All heads turned simultaneously to the intrusion on the road, expecting the worst. Expecting a crash of sorts. But no, there was no crash, just a slick car pulling abruptly up against the sidewalk and jerking to a startling stop. One that could only be equated to the driver going far above the speed limit in a school zone.

It went quiet. Far too quiet as the lot of remaining faculty, students, and parents alike kept their eyes peeled back sharply at the reckless driver. Funnily enough the attentive stares of onlookers could have very well been just as bad as those witnessing an actual crash.

You weren’t any better than the rest, collecting snap shot after snap shot like a roll of consecutive film. You could still hear the engine cutting out, the door swinging open and closing with a solid flick of his wrist. A wrist that would do far worse to you in the bedroom. Far worse in the eyes of your religious upbringing, but would feel too holy to you to be considered a sin.

You only caught a glance of him for a second until his back was facing towards you, thick white letters staking his claim with a skull and crossbones for the Chicago Vandals on his cut down vest.

You’d heard a thing or two about those motorcycle men. Your father ranting and raving about the disturbances near route 95 and police chases. But never, had you ever seen one of them in the flesh up close and personal. A shrill of unprecedented delight shot up your spine at the colorful sight, no longer reserved to those blurry black and white paper cuttings.

Stopping in his tracks, you figured his car must have broken down or somethin’ – but no. He was putting out his cigarette with his worn down boot before making his way over to you, and oh he had his eye on you alright.

A relative unease wahed across the school yard, harder than the obvious heat wave as he sauntered across without a care in the world. As if dozens of heads weren’t makin’ disgusted faces and whispering about. Yet a clear intimidation set over them, people stepping out of the way without a word as if he was a Bible figure. Like Moses parting the red sea.

“Uncle Benny!” One of them chirped. Who you didn’t know, couldn’t know with the sudden flush creeping against your cheeks. Your heart dropped to your stomach once you realized who it was and that the man himself with dirty blonde scruff, calloused fingers, and a black inked layer over a honey toned canvas was makin’ a beeline to you. A beeline to you and the girls.

It was the taller Davis girl that must have called out his name, cause suddenly she was pulling you and her sister forward to meet Benny half way. You almost tripped down the stairs within the broken bubble of her excitement. Barely having a moment’s notice to collect yourself, you found your pristine baby pink ballet flats toe to toe with some scruffed up biker boots that had seen better days. You managed a breath before you looked up and boy were you glad you did.

The wind was practically knocked clean out of you when you were caught face to face with the Benny Cross. It wasn’t because you were scared of him — no. You were more taken aback with how pretty he was. How his deeply set ocean eyes managed to speak volumes without saying a word.

And suddenly, on the front steps of Phipps Avenue School you felt seen. More seen than you had ever felt in your life. He wasn’t the only one sticking out like the sorest of thumbs. So were you with your baby pink tank to match your shoes with your signature embroidered denim overall dress. Hair up and out of your face, loose honey curls frizzing about. Your kitsch tastes and unpolished attire were rather baffling for the picturesque depiction gracing the magazines your Ma read at the salon.

Some would say you were lost somewhere in Neverland. Lots of your fellow teachers would crack jokes here and there ‘bout it too. Sure, on a bad day a jab or two could get to you — but hey you liked what you liked and you weren’t gonna change that. Not for anybody. Not even for your Ma or Pa who grimaced at your bedazzled pins wedged into your messy curls during Sunday mass.

So Benny, well who were you to judge him?

“Hi, you must be Uncle Benny,” you greeted the brood of a man in front of you, flexing a sweet-like-honey smile that was just oh-so-you. You let go of the Johnny look-a-likes hand then, allowing her to wrap her small self around Benny’s leg in pure delight to see him as you outstretched your hand in a shake. To your dismay, he didn’t take it. Instead, his free hand that wasn’t mushing up Johnny’s girls dark locks as he patted her head fished for his pack of Marlboro reds in his vest pocket. That didn’t stop you from introducing yourself though. “I’m Miss. Honey.”

He gave you once over, eyes tracing you from head to toe before the edge of his lip tweaked up in a sly smile. “Honey, huh?” He mused, that deep set voice of his, thick and smokey sweetin’ up something deep inside you.

Dropping your hand back down against your dress, the material felt rather rough on your clammy skin. “Yuh-huh.” You nodded, that tight smile of yours making your eyes twitch just a bit.

A fresh cigarette materialized between his teeth then, unlit. A strange courtesy you found rather charming on the midst of educational grounds. “Hm,” he hummed, the narrow cylinder vibrating against his lips as his eyes devoured you a second time. Yet, you figured he was more unimpressed. Most were anyways.

“Benny! Benny! Can we go see Daddy now?” The girl wrapped around his leg yanked his belt loop with a small finger. The little one was still at your side, hand in hand with you. It was kind of amusin’ how different the two were. It was simple figuring out who was the bigger Daddy’s girl of the two.

“In a ‘inute, sweet-art,” he mumbled, that cigarette of his disrupting any fully coherent sentence from spillin’ out. “C’mere ‘ittle one,” he motioned to the shorter girl who was rather uninterested in leaving. In the midst of your conversation, she managed to keep her hand raised, keeping herself conjoined to you as she sat down on the bottom step in complete and utter protest.

“Don’t wanna.” She pouted down at her bunny tied saddle shoes that matched her pretty little pick-tails.

In a sense, you couldn’t blame her. Now it was all adding up. What was really going on. This wasn’t just some run of the mill village cycling marathon. This was a Vandals bike race.

Any other teacher would have probably made a stink, called the parents in for a sit down with the principal over infiltrating their kids in a biker environment infused with criminal records. But, you weren’t like that — no. Especially when you’d see a child’s eyes light up with so much delight. It was clear that Mr. Davis’s look-a-like was really proud of her father. Who could blame her? Respected throughout the community, a family man who put his all into a trucking' job.

A picnic with some bike racin’ wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Not with Mr. Davis involved.

So, you gave the benefit of the doubt. Sure, it could have been for all those reasons that were swarming about your head, but in actuality your heart was working double time over your mind. The image of the Davis girl clinging to Benny’s leg had teddy bear written all over it, giving you all the sweet talkin’ you’d need. Ironically enough, in due time that soft side of him would turn into plushy lovin’ reserved just for you.

“Lemme,” you mouthed to Benny before getting down to the little one’s level. Flattening out your skirt you took a seat next to her and rested both hands over her own in her lap. “Remember when we were talkin’ about a good book? Dentin’ the pages?” The girl nodded, but didn’t meet your eye. Instead, Benny doing the opposite, his eyes practically grilled onto your peripheral vision. “Well, sometimes if we are too protective of it. Too keen on keeping it all in tack, we’ll never learn not to and we’ll just be more and more disappointed when we come across a little crack we never created in the first place. We may not like it, but it’s there, and there is so much love there.” You squeeze the little girl’s hand. “Just like your old man racin’. You may not like it, but he does, and that’s quite alright. You know why?”

“Why?” She looked up at you then, little doe eyes attentive as ever, clinging onto your every word. It was times like this that reminded you why you were a teacher.

“‘Cause you love him, no matter what” You replied, tilting your head ever-so subtly to observe her reaction.

And oh did Benny love you. He didn’t know it then. Couldn’t fully compartmentalize it until later. Yet, unbeknownst to you, it was one of the first of what would become many of Benny's thoughts on how damn good of a teacher you were, how fine of a wife you’d make, and how sweet of a mother you’d be.

Thankfully, your words must have resonated with the little girl. It only took a moment for those delightful dimples of hers to grace those little features before her lips turned up in a sweet smile. “We gotta go Uncle Benny!” The girl declared suddenly, standing up straight with a whole new attitude. You were glad to supply the optimism. That’s what you were all about. That was the lesson you hoped to instill to your students the most.

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, feeling like a warm blanket was being draped over your shoulders soundly. Not uncomfortable. Not contributing to the intolerable heat wave. You’d only been in your second year of teaching, but hey — small victories like this made it worth it. Made you proud of yourself, even if you couldn’t find such gratitude from others.

Little did you know, Benny — he was so fuckin’ proud. Proud to see you spreading such honey-coated wisdom to a youngin’. And there on the steep steps of Phipps Avenue school as the little one wrapped her arms around you and thanked you profusely before grabbing Benny’s hand and heading to Johnny’s car, he found his mission.

You were gonna be his wife.

He was sure of it.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

this was so much fun to write! i hope you liked it :) i’m thinking of also including some honey interviews curtesy of danny ! stay tuned for “from the hive” 🎙️🐝

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝🍯:

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

@m00npjm

@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

[afterhours-1985]

Tom Hardy as Johnny The Bikeriders (2023) dir. Jeff Nichols

[50sbutler]

whatever this is.

[zablife]

hello, i have a request for benny where he introduces his girl to the vandals for the first time.

one of them is already a good friend of her, but he didn’t know the person she was seeing was benny (and maybe benny gets a bit possessive)

Ty for the request, lovely! It's my first for The Bikeriders so I couldn't wait to dive in. I used your idea plus the GIF above as inspo to create drama, plus a little heat with our fave man. I hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts!

Rumors

18+ MDNI

Warnings: language, possessiveness, semi public sex

A/N: If you haven't seen the film, it might help to know: 1-Johnny doesn't like to share Benny and 2-Cal's first language is French.

"Heard a little somethin' about your girl you might want to know," Johnny rasped, allowing his words to dissipate into the air on a lungful of smoke.

Benny signaled his interest by leaning forward slightly in his chair, brow furrowed as he thought of anything about you that would warrant a private conversation with the leader of the Vandals. All he could think of at that moment was how eager he'd been to show you off to the guys, an obvious note of pride swelling in his chest each time he uttered your name.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he finally asked, "Yeah, what's that?" Though he had tried to hide his concern behind a facade of cool detachment, the slight twitch of his hand when he raised his cigarette to his lips gave him away.

If it had been a game of poker, Johnny could have recognized the bluff from a mile away. He bit back a sly grin, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he chose his next words for maximum damage.

"Let's just say she ain't no stranger here," he hinted, eyeing Benny carefully to gauge the effect it had on the impulsive young man. Watching Benny's fists clench at his sides, he swiftly added, "Especially not to Cal."

As if on cue, Benny's blue eyes flashed with an ominous darkness. "What are you talkin' about?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

Hissing in Benny's ear like a venomous serpent, Johnny advised, "Don't let her make a fool out of ya. That's all I'm sayin."

Benny's shoulders began to stiffen tightly beneath his leather jacket and Johnny clapped him on the back before abandoning him to his rapidly spiraling jealousy.

You could practically feel the floor shake with the stomp of his boots before you heard the low rumble of his voice calling your name. The tenderness he'd affected an hour ago was gone, replaced by a gruffness which commanded you, "C'mon, baby."

You stared at him wild eyed, wondering what had gotten into him. "N-now? We just got here," you stuttered.

He nodded, taking you firmly by the hand and you decided not argue while his rings pressed into your flesh.

As his friends hooted and whistled, you exited the bar out into the warm summer night. The relative quiet of the street amplified Benny's voice as he asked, "When were you gonna tell me?"

Stumbling off the front step together, he brought you face to face with him, sapphire eyes gleaming with fire. However, you immediately sensed a note of hurt in his accusation.

"Tell you what?" you begged, still uncertain what had him so worked up.

"About you and Cal," he prodded, watching a flash of recognition pass over your face in damning confirmation.

"Don't try to deny it," he warned, dropping your arm to pace the darkened alley beside the bar. Running his hands through his hair in distress, he'd clearly begun thinking the worst when you remained silent.

You struggled to recall who else knew about your acquaintance with Cal, then suddenly you understood, a long sigh pushing from your lungs as you recalled what Kathy had told you about Johnny's dislike of girlfriends hanging around. He said nagging wives took the guys away from the club when the crack ups and late nights began to threaten their relationships. You closed your eyes and shook your head, realizing he’d probably been the one to upset Benny.

"Say somethin'...please," Benny begged, waiting for you to open your eyes to him.

You twisted your fingers in front of you as you finally confessed, "Yeah, I know Cal." Watching Benny hang his head at your admission, you clarified, "Well...I knew the scrawny kid who took English lessons with me a few years ago. I barely recognize him now with that wild hair and that earring." You huffed out a quiet laugh at the thought of it, stopping Benny's nervous movements as he listened to the angelic sound.

He splayed a palm against the cool brick, glancing over his shoulder at you hopefully.

You nodded at him confirming,"That's all it ever was, baby." His chest heaved a sigh of relief as you came to stand at his side. Ducking under his strong arm, you ran a hand down the side of his scruffy cheek and brought his gaze back to you. "I'm yours, Benny. Nobody else's, you understand?"

A low growl rumbled from his lips as he pressed you against the wall, lips seeking yours for the physical reassurance he so badly needed.

His mouth moved against yours insistently, desperate for more and your hands flew to his hair, tugging in wanton desire. As your breasts pushed against his chest, he couldn't help deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue and before either of you could contain it, passion overtook you.

Benny turned you to face the wall and raised your skirt over your ass, tugging your underwear aside eager to claim you. Your breath hitched as you heard the jingle of his belt and you quickly braced yourself against the wall for what was to come. Without a care for who might disturb you, he took you right there, hips pistoning into you with reckless abandon.

"Tell me one more time, sweetheart," he urged breathlessly, sucking a dark bruise into your neck that would become irrefutable proof.

"I'm-I'm yours...I belong...belong to you, Ben--," you panted through little shocks of pleasure, unable to continue as you came hard around him.

"S right," he agreed, biting down on your shoulder to stifle his own groans of pleasure. Giving into your vice like grip, he tumbled over the edge with you, heartbeat hammering against your back in exhaustion.

You reached for him in the darkness, clutching the back of his head to keep him close. He stayed inside you for a long, tender moment afterward, placing scattered kisses behind your ear. You might have stayed that way longer if not for your ticklishness and exposed location. So with a hiss, he begrudgingly withdrew from you and gently lowered your skirt.

In the afterglow, Benny smiled at you with a cockeyed grin, tucking himself inside his jeans. The dewy flush of your cheeks making his heart skip a beat, he leaned in for one last kiss as you heard the door to the bar open and release the sounds of boisterous laughter.

Several bikers emerged, Johnny leading the way to the row of choppers parked at the curb. As he strutted toward his bike, a haphazard glance was thrown your way before doing a double take.

You weren't sure if you should scream at him or thank him for the rumor he'd attempted to spread about you and Cal, seeing how it had actually brought you closer to Benny.

When your boyfriend wrapped an arm around your waist, placing a kiss to the top of your head, you decided it wasn't worth arguing about. With a smirk and a little wave, you forced Johnny to acknowledge you, making it clear you weren't leaving Benny's side anytime soon.

[potter-solomons]

why are your hands so big and not on me?

[dandelionfool]

my copy of danny lyon's book arrived last week (!!!) so i am thinking about bikeriders again

[feveredvisions]

Was scrolling through my pinterest and got caught in a checkpoint by this still of Johnny Davis. I just have to stop and take a moment to admire. He's too damn beautiful for my brain to even process.

[tickettride]

A good dad

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ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

“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 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.

[carnevol]

[nerdy-novelist017]

Perfect (Benny Cross x Shy! Reader pt 7)

The chapter we've all been waiting forrrr! 🤗 I won't lie to you, I'm slightly terrified to post this chapter, but you all are so kind. I hope this is everything you wanted it to be! 🫶

Benny X Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.8k (woah, got a little carried away)

Summary- You've lived your whole life according to what everyone else wanted you to be. Tonight would be the first night of your new life -- one where you decided who you were.

******

You took a deep breath, holding it in for a few moments in an attempt to calm your quickened pulse. You had spent the whole rest of the day yesterday thinking about nothing but your future. What was set in stone and what was up to you. You knew what you didn’t want, that much was clear to you now. But could it be possible to have what you wanted when you weren’t even sure if that was what you were?

By the time you had dressed and made your way downstairs for breakfast, you felt as though you were being torn in two. One side was what your head told you to do, the more sensical side. And the other was what your heart wanted to do, the more exciting side. You entered the kitchen where your mother stood at the stove, her hair still in rollers and an apron tied around her waist as she prepared breakfast. 

“Morning, Mama,” you greeted quietly as you approached her to help. Cooking breakfast was your usual routine with your mother, a time spent with secretive giggles and never-ending stories. It was a time where the two of you would be uninterrupted, consumed by only each other in your own world. A place where you would complain to her about your boy troubles at school or how the popular girls were mean to you that day. And as you grew older, and things like high school drama no longer seemed to matter, it became a place where you could talk to her about her life. Where she would tell you how to be mindful of the world around you as she taught you to make poached eggs. A place where she had mentioned numerous times how happy she was because of her family, because of you.  A safe place – home. 

“Morning, honey,” she replied as she shot you her usual cheerful smile. “Coffee’s on the table.”

You thanked her as you poured yourself a cup. You put your apron on and began to help with the homemade pancake batter. You were so lost in the endless sea of thoughts that when your mother mentioned a familiar name, you nearly spilled the bowl of batter. 

“What?” you asked as you looked over at her. 

“I said Pete came by, asking for you,” she repeated as she did a double take at your crestfallen expression. 

“He did?” you inquired in a small voice. “Did he . . . say anything?”

“He asked if he could speak with you. He seemed real insistent,” she laughed. “I had to tell him you were in the shower to finally get him to leave.”

At your silence, she continued hesitantly, “How did your date go?”

You sighed, “It was . . . okay.”

“He seems like a real nice guy.” 

You nodded weakly, feeling oddly reluctant to tell her what had happened at the golf course, the anger in his eyes, the sudden volume in his voice as he slammed his hands against the car.

She lowered the spatula she was using to stir the scrambled eggs, and she turned to face you fully. “Is everything okay, (Y/N)?” 

You nodded again but when you glanced up at her, you could see the disbelief in her eyes. You could fool a lot of people, but your mother was never one of them. 

“What’s going on?” she prodded in that controlled mix of gentle firmness that only mothers can conjure. You were silent for several long beats, unsure of how to vocalize your feelings. 

“I don’t think I want to go out with Pete anymore, Mama,” You admitted softly and being able to speak those words aloud for the first time felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted off your shoulders so you go on, “I don’t like the way he treats me compared to others. I can’t see myself being married to him.”

She fell quiet for a few agonizing moments, and you worry that you might have said too much. You avoided her gaze, looking down at the raw batter in front of you as you tried to figure out how you can fix what you’ve just said. 

But then, “Is there someone else you met?”

You looked back at her face, your heart sinking at the sight of her serious, unreadable expression and your mouth suddenly felt too dry to speak. You only nodded. 

She looked down at her pan of eggs for a moment. “Was it that blonde boy? The one with the motorcycle?”

Your mouth fell open in shock. “How–?”

“I saw him drop you off last night,” she explained. “I was reading in my bedroom when I heard the engine pull up. And when I looked out the window, I saw the two of you standing there.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the realization that Benny was not a secret of yours anymore. He was living in your reality now, a figure to receive the scutanty of your parents, of your neighbors, of your family. The thought left a pit to form in your gut. 

“Your father will never approve of that, (Y/N),” she said, firmly shooting down your outlandish hopes. “You know that.”

“I know. I just . . . ” you trail off with a sigh as you sink into one of the chairs at the small breakfast table in the kitchen. “He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before, Mama. He’s fun and exciting. He just seems to understand me so perfectly. And the way he talks to me, the way he makes me feel about myself . . .”

Your mother abandoned her position at the stove to sit in the chair beside you. “That isn’t a practical choice, honey. It’s not going to guarantee you any stability for your future. I want you to have a good life, to live in a good house with a husband that has a good job. He isn’t that and who knows if he will ever be able to provide you with those things.”

You swallowed the painful lump forming in the back of your throat as you looked down at your lap, knowing that she’s right. 

Her hand slid across the table to grab yours tightly. “But I also saw the look on his face as he watched you walk up to the house. That look of pure devotion and love.” There were tears shining in her eyes as she struggled to speak. “And I realized I have never seen your father look at me the way that boy looked at you.” 

Your heart shattered at her admission, and you squeezed her hand tightly, stunned into silence. 

“All I want in life is for you to be happy. That’s all I want. Every time I see a shooting star or blow out the candles on my birthday cake, I make a wish for you to live a happy life.” She swallowed thickly as her eyes fluttered over your features. “I understand that your happiness might not look the same as mine, and that’s okay. Your father won’t approve of this, and you know how he gets. But I will always support you – always.”

“Oh, Mama,” your voice cracked as you stood quickly to wrap your mother in a tight hug. 

As you stood in the embrace of your mother’s arms, you realized it had been a long time since you had been consoled like this by her. And in this moment, you felt like a little girl again, still in need of your mother’s infinitely understanding advice and kind hugs. Muffled by her sweater, you whispered, “You make me happy, Mama.” 

“You make me happy too, my girl,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled back eventually, holding you by the shoulders. “I want you to choose the thing that will bring you happiness.”

You nodded and she reached out to wipe the tears that had fallen down your cheeks as she said, “Now, help me finish breakfast before those eggs start to burn.”

“Yes, Mama,” you laughed, sniffing as you watched her move back to the stove, noticing the undeniable actions of her swiping at her own tears as she did. 

And now you stand, at the threshold of someplace you’d never expected to be, you’re nervous, but sure of yourself. Thunder rolled through the sky as a storm brewed in the distance, and you almost laughed at the realization that you had successfully outran the storm, a strangely comforting irony. Releasing your breath, you push open the door before you could give it another thought. 

The inside of the Vandals clubhouse is bustling with people, more than you had ever seen in one small place. Cigarette smoke filtered through the air, covering the environment in a haze. Loud voices, glass clinking, cue balls clacking against the pool tables all mix together with the music playing from the jukebox in the back. Overwhelmed, you stand in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning through the sea of bodies covered in the infamous Vandals colors. After a moment of hesitation and a brief thought of turning around and going back out the door you came in, you pushed on, sliding into the room like a boat into a river. Weaving your way through the packed bar, you passed a few tables where someone bumped into you as they stood from their seat. You apologized and tried to move by, but the unfamiliar man reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Where are you off to, pretty little thing?” he asked, his voice slurring as he tried to grin at you but he must have been seeing double because his eyesight was staring at the spot over your right shoulder. Before you could respond, someone else from the table spoke up, his voice barely heard over the noise of the bar.

“Hey, I know you,” he said, his dark slicked back hair and clean shaven face familiar, but you couldn’t place his name. “You’re Benny’s girl.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words and you shrunk into yourself a bit, losing a bit of your already wavering confidence.

“It’s Wahoo,” he clarified as he too stood from his seat, moving to grab his drunk friend and pull him away from you. “Don’t let him bother you, he didn’t know who you were, was all.”

You nodded, grateful for his help. “Is Benny here?”

“Yeah, ’was over by the pool table in the back last I saw,” Wahoo responded as he pointed in the general direction. 

You tried to steady your pounding heart as you made your way to the back of the bar. Brushing into a temporarily clear path, that’s when your eyes found his tall, lean figure, that dirty blonde hair and wicked grin. Your steps faltered a bit. He hadn’t seen you yet, you could still turn around and go back to your ordinary life. But that wasn’t what you wanted anymore. You were scared, but you were here anyway. You approached the table where you saw other faces you recognized (Johnny, Brucie, Gail, Zipco and a few others whose names you hadn’t committed to memory yet) but none of them were your primary focus. 

Gail was the first to notice you nearing, and she elbowed her husband to get his attention as she said something you couldn’t quite detect in the loudness of the bar. But her commotion with Brucie garnered Johnny’s interest as he two turned to look at you, a smile breaking out across his face. Benny turned from his sidestance, his eyes scanning over the crowd in an attempt to see what was so important to distract the players while the game continued. His eyes roved over your face for a fleeting second, continuing on before jumping back to you in a flustered doubletake. 

Then suddenly, you were on the other end of the pool table, directly across from Benny who looked at you as though you were an apparition. You leaned your hands to rest against the pool table, trying to look more confident than you were as you felt the eyes of every person near the pool table on you. 

“Bunny?” Benny asked, almost speechless as he handed his pool stick off to Zipco. He rounded the table to be closer to you as he continued. “What–what are you doin’ here?” 

“I came to speak with you,” you respond, eyes glancing at the others around the table before landing on him again. “To ask you something.”

He got the hint loud and clear. “C’mon,” he said as he grabbed your hand in his own and pulled you through the room to the backdoor where he pushed it open and motioned for you to go first. 

It had already begun to rain lightly, tiny droplets hitting the concrete with a gentle pitter patter. The coolness of the outside air surrounded you in a pleasant way compared to the atmosphere inside. There were a few bikers out back smoking and talking, but Benny didn’t seem to mind their presence as he led you down the way, keeping under the dry safety of the overhang. 

“Is it always that busy?” you ask when you both stopped. With your back against the brick wall and Benny standing just in front of you, the overhang didn’t offer much room from the rain. But that didn’t seem to bother him either as his eyes were locked onto you despite the roof runoff hitting his jacket. 

“No.” He shook his head. “There was a convention in town today and most of those guys in there are from Columbus. I’m sure that’s pretty overwhelming for you.” 

Your heart fluttered at his gentle squeeze of your hand and you were acutely aware that he hadn’t let you go since pulling you along out here. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Did you walk here?” he asked, and thunder rumbled somewhere behind him.

“No, I rode my bicycle,” you replied. “Bike, I should say, makes me sound cool like you guys.”

“You’re way cooler than me, Bunny,” he said, his voice low as he wore a lopsided smile.

You couldn’t help but mirror his expression as you looked up at him, realizing just how close the two of you were. The scent of his cologne tickled your nose in a way that sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. It was almost unfair, you realized, that he was so effortlessly attractive – he looked good, he sounded good, he smelled good – and you don’t think he even knew the effect he had on you. And he had the audacity to look at you like you were the gem. 

“What?” he asked after your beat of silence, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“Nothing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you blurted out the question that had been burning inside you the entire ride here. “Do you want to go to California with me?”

“Right now?” 

“No.” You tried to cover your giggle. “I mean, some day. I do want to go. Remember when we talked about it?”

“I remember.”

Benny’s unwavering gaze caused your heart rate to speed up but you trudged on, “I’ve always thought it wasn’t a practical dream, that somehow it couldn’t be me who walked down the beach because I'd been too busy with school and then school became work and work would become marriage and keeping house.” Your carefully rehearsed speech began to fragment as you spilled your jumbled thoughts. “But I realized that is so silly because it’s my life, and I–I can do whatever I want with whoever I want. And I want to go to California to see the Pacific Ocean, and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.  So . . . what do you say?”

He stepped closer to you, his face just inches from yours, his voice incredibly gentle as he said, “I think I'd go just about anywhere you asked me to, Bunny. But are you sure it’s me who you’re wantin’ here?”

Your brow furrowed slightly at his response. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’m not the kind of guy girls like you fall for. I’m the exact opposite.” His free hand reached out and brushed a tendril of your hair behind your ear as his voice dropped an octave. “But when I'm with you . . . I feel like I could do better. Like maybe I could be better. Not perfect, but something closer to worthy.”

“I’ve been perfect my whole life. Perfect grades, perfect smile, a perfectly quiet doll on the shelf.” You look at the biker standing before you. The exact opposite of what you’ve been surrounded by your entire life. The exact person you’ve been told to stay away from. But there were things that you noticed about him now that you hadn’t when you first saw him at the picnic. Those hands, calloused and scarred from years of fighting, were holding your own gently as if you were made of glass. That mouth, capable of verbally hurting just about anyone who got in his way, only ever spoke softly to you. Those eyes which have undoubtedly seen their fair share of the worst of humanity, gaze at you as if you were the moon. This man, the excitement you feel you’ve been unknowingly waiting for your whole life. You stepped closer to him, your noses brushing together softly as you whispered, “I don’t think I want perfect anymore.”

“What do you want, Bunny?” he asked, an unmistakable vulnerability in his raw voice. 

Your answer to him in nonverbal as you closed the gap between you, lips pressing against his softly. The world seemed to pause as you gently kissed Benny, your heart pounding in your chest. The kiss was soft at first, tentative as you both seemed to test the waters of something new and uncharted. Overcome by your overthinking, you began to draw back, but Benny’s palm cupped the side of your face, pulling you back to him with a more meaningful kiss. His lips were warm and rough, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand held yours early as he deepened the kiss with a sense of urgency that sent a wave of heat to fill your core. His hand moved to protect the back of your head as he backed you up to the cool brick of the wall behind you. 

Benny’s mind was racing with a whirlwind of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He had been careful, so careful, to keep his distance, to remind himself that a girl like you would never be with a man like him. He had hoped, prayed, that you might return even an ounce of his feelings for you, but he had to be realistic. You were a beautiful dream, so far out of his reach. But now with your lips on his, your fragile hands clutching the fabric of his jacket, he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. You were breaking down every wall he had built, showing him that just maybe, he was worth more than he believed. 

He had never kissed anyone like this before – with a mix of tenderness and passion that made his heart ache in a way that both terrified and galvanized him. He moved his hand down your side, gripping your hip tightly. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want this moment to end. Because in this kiss, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope.

He’d spent so long believing he wasn’t good enough– that his life was too rough, too messy for someone like you. But in this moment, as your breath mingled with his own and your heartbeat racing against his chest, he started to believe, even just a little, that he could be the man you saw in him. That he could be worthy of this, of you. 

Your lips parted slightly, and Benny took the invitation, kissing you with a newfound fervor, pouring all his sentiments into it – the longing, the fear, the hope. The connection between you felt electric, and for the first time in a long time, Benny didn’t feel lost. He felt found. Found by you, found by this moment. 

This is real, he thought almost in disbelief, She chose me. He could hardly comprehend it, but the evidence was right there in the way that you kissed him back with equal intensity, the way you clung to him as if he was the only thing grounding you. His lungs burned and he had to pull back, but he kept his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours, his thumb stroking your cheek. I don’t deserve her, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but for the first time, another voice – a stronger one– countered, Maybe I could someday. 

He opened his eyes, seeing the softness in your gaze, the way your parted lips were slightly swollen from the kiss. It hit him then, like a bolt of lightning. He wanted to be better, not just for himself, but for you. Because you deserved more than just a rough-edged biker, you deserved the world. And if you’d let him, Benny was determined to give it to you. 

“Was–was that okay?” you asked breathlessly, unsure if you’d done it right, but hoping he had felt what you couldn’t put into words. 

His eyes softened even more as a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It was more than okay, Bunny.”

Your smile grew, a little more confident now, despite the heat tinging your cheeks. Suddenly the backdoor squeaked open and Brucie poked his head out the doorway. 

“Benny, you’re up to shoot, kid,” he said and must have seen the closeness of your bodies, the way Benny still held onto your waist because he smirked smugly. 

Benny didn’t even glance over. “Tell ‘em to hold my spot.”

“Pool?” you asked, tugging on his jacket lightly as Brucie disappeared back inside. 

Benny nodded, grinning lazily down at you. “Yeah, you ever played?”

You shook your head, feeling a little shy. “No, never. But . . . I’d like to try.”

He raised his eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You want me to teach you?”

You nodded, this time with more certainty. “I think I’d like that.”

He took your hand, leading you back inside as the rain continued to pour around you. As he lead you back into the bar, the noise and constant chatter engulfing you once again, you felt reassured by the steady warmth of his hand in yours. And he didn't let go of your hand even when you got to the table. A few members cheered and teased Benny, but he only smiled and shook his head, his focus on you, instead. He stood behind you, positioning you gently. 

“Here’s the thing,” he murmured, his voice low and just for you. “You don’t have to know everything right away. Sometimes it’s about the journey, not just the win.”

You looked over your shoulder with a small smile, your faces only inches apart. “I think I’m ready for the journey.”

Benny’s gaze gentled. “So am I, Bunny. So am I.”

-Tag List-

@ironmooncat @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @imusicaddict @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @thedreamingfish99 @mrsalwayswrite @pearlstiare

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

honey, are you comin’?

previous part: sweet talkin’ | from the hive: session 1

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny finds honey again. this time near a honeycomb, hopin’ for a taste on the road ;) (p.s.: if you were wonderin’, yes — the title of this was so inspired by måneskin)

warnings: not much of anything besides some minor talks of cruelty towards children, peeps being judgmental as hell, & smoking. they’re subtly flirting here basically. it’s cute! that’s really it. x

author’s note: oh my goodness! you have no idea how STUNNED i’ve been by all the love miss.honey!benny have been getting so far. fully was not expecting this. deadass wrote sweet talkin’ for fun. no thoughts, head empty type beat. just wanted to thank you honeys so so much. i can’t thank ya enough i fear! i literally still can’t wrap my head around this, but i love you all sm & can’t wait to share more with you! 🍯🐝🫶

word count: 2.7k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Another unbearable wave of heat managed to remain the very next day. Your students squirming against their metal chairs, antsy as ever for a reprieve. And so were you too. Thankfully, it just so happened to be your turn as fellow recess monitor with one or your fellow co-workers, Miss. Margie. Marge just so happened to be a newly breaded fresh faced teacher just like yourself. You enjoyed her company, more so than the older teachers who were rather cruel to the students. Especially when they did something wrong. Marge wasn’t cruel so to speak but she was a tough cookie, putting her foot down when needed. You two as a duo were rather perfect for the school grounds. You as the comfort go to when a knee was scraped, and Marge as the tough love go to when a particular student needed a stern talking to.

You worked well together, and it showed. Your relief was rather prominent when you stepped out the back door near the playground. An immediate swarm of giggles and chatter from small voices buzzed about, and you couldn’t help but smile as you adjusted your eyes to the sun, protected under your heart shaped sunnies. It didn’t take you long to find Marge who was already planted near the monkey bars with her arms crossed over her chest like a drill sergeant. Considering her father’s status as a war vet, by no means was it shocking to you or anyone else for that matter to see her in such a state.

“Hi Margie,” you greeted her once materialized next to her. “How’s it goin’?”

Margie's clear concentration dropped at the sound of your voice. “Oh no wonder,” she commented without looking at you. Her brows shot up in genuine intrigue.

Your honey coated lips parted in confusion instantly. “Huh?”

“Your three o’clock, Hun.” Margie tilted her head to the right subtly, directing you to her line of sight. A sight that made your heart curl into itself in a warm beat. Right behind those chain-linked fences that kept the kids contained was Uncle Benny. Yet, today his status as Uncle appeared to be rather amiss. Instead of Johnny’s car flanked near the curb, he was leaning against a neat Harley Davidson. The same one you saw him on that mornin’. You figured he was dropping off the girls or somethin’, but your curiosity got the better of you when you saw Mrs. Davis with them instead.

Now in the no parking zone, he stood out like the sorrest of thumbs. Practically a puzzle piece thrown into the wrong box. With no thoughts behind those pretty blue eyes of his besides you.

“That biker of yours stood up like a torpedo as soon as you walked out,” your co-worker added.

You took a moment to adjust your glasses, moving them to the tip of your nose to get a better look. Sure as shit, you weren’t having a heat stroke. It was really him. He was still here. Had he been out here since the mornin’ or left to come back? And if he was here for you like Margie said — why? You were certain he wasn’t much of a fan of you the day prior.

“He’s — He’s not my biker,” you mangled out, words twisting off your tongue as butterflies danced around your tummy.

Margie snorted. “I hate to break it to you, Hun. Lookin’ like he is now.” She paused a moment, shifting her footing as she spotted a youngin’ running roughly across the pavement, almost banging into another student. “Hey — watch where you’re goin’. Don’t push it Mikey!” She reprimanded before fixing herself upright and asking you, “What was all that about yesterday anyways?”

“What y’mean?” You questioned, not quite sure what she was going on about.

“You know — lettin’ the Davis girls go with ‘em. Caused a bit of an upheaval with the parents apparently. Heard all about it in the break room this mornin’. Doesn’t sound like Principal Rubs is real happy about it either.”

Your ears couldn’t believe what you were hearing. What business did the parents have putting their two cents in about somebody else’s family members? As for Principal Rubin, well, she was Principal Rubin after all. There wasn’t much to it there. The damn woman was a stickler with the sprinklers yesterday after all. Never a ball of fun as far as you were concerned.

“Why wouldn't I?” You challenged, becoming rather defensive.

“The guy pulled up like a maniac all greasy and shit. Almost gave everyone a heart attack,” Margie reasoned, her features churning in disgust.

You knew if he was some clean cut military guy in full uniform, she wouldn’t have made a comment at all, which kind-of pissed you off. Sure his clothes were lookin’ as if they hadn’t seen a washing machine in a cycle of days, but hey — what did that have to do with character? There were plenty of people who gave this outward canvas of perfectionism, far off from who they truly were deep down inside. You knew that, and you saw it every single day within the cruel clusters of your modern society. You saw it in the faces of your Ma and Pa when you didn’t fit the supposed mold they were trying to conform you to.

“So? He’s their Uncle, Marge,” you countered, defenses climbing high. “Did you ever think that maybe the man was runnin’ late? Worryin’ about the girls. That’s why he was speedin’.”

Margie sighed. “Not with that Vandals shit on his vest, but whatever you wanna believe, Hun.”

It went quiet between you two then. A clear indication that this conversation wasn’t gonna get the two of you anywhere.

“I should go talk to him,” you announced, snapping the awkward silence in half. There was no denying that you were now suddenly eager to find out what all this was about.

“Yuh should. If you don’t I will, and I doubt that will end well,” she joked, her eyes sparkling in amusement. Oh and she was right about that. Knowing Margie, you knew the idea of her approaching Benny would formulate a recipe for disaster.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the mental image of such a scene. But also — you were utterly glad for this newfound banter popped open from a bottle of tension. “Alright Colonel, I’ll be back,” you quipped, before heading across the playground.

You could feel his eyes burning across your form on your journey to the edge of the property, your tummy flipping again in a bit of nerves and excitement. A part of you felt somewhat disappointed when you found yourself coming to a halt — stuck behind the monstrous fence that separated you from him, while another was glad for some security. You weren’t quite sure what his motive was, but knew it couldn’t be anything bad. He was just sitting here, smoking and minding his own business. Well — minding you.

“The girls don’t get out of school for another few hours, y’know,” you said matter-of-factly, eyeing him through the grates of the fence that reminded you far too much of a honeycomb.

He didn’t say much of anything, just raised a brow as you as he took one last drag of his cigarette. You watched as he put it out against the pavement, amongst a garden of other buds with his boot. Your suspicions were coming into fusion then, the realization that he’d been planted here for as long as your delusions imagined.

What could he possibly want from an innocent elementary school teacher like you?

He reached for that packet of Marlboros in his vest pocket all over again, clearly on a chain smoking spree. “Y’want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. Those lean fingers of his calloused to the bone holding out a fresh cigarette in your direction. A cigarette that he’d been saving for you just in case.

You looked around for a moment, not quite sure what to do. The coast seemed to be clear though. Margie looked busy with some of the kids. Had a cluster of ‘em around her with her finger wagging about in every which direction. With her eyes no longer trained on Benny and you, and your form more than halfway across the school yard, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you were having a day and could really use a cigarette. “Sure.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Benny re-adjusted his stance, shoulders straight as he sauntered the sidewalk to meet you against the fence. His rough knuckles brushed across your polished ballet slipper fingers as he passed you the cigarette though the honeycomb, a sweetness shooting up your arm in an instance. You left it sticking out for a moment so he could light it up for you, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your face. The casual interaction felt rather intimate in the moment, and you were more than happy when you got to take a step back on your first drag.

“Thanks,” you voiced your appreciation as he popped a fresh cig against his lips, now lighting up his own. You couldn’t help but notice that he had a sweet little freckle etched into his bottom lip. No wonder he had beautiful lips, you thought.

Surely, they’d be sweet to the kiss.

Jutting your hip out, you tapped your foot against the dry grass in impatience. “You stalkin’ me or somethin’?” You ripped off the bandage then, getting right into the real stuff. It was too hot out to sugarcoat anything any longer. Plus, the more you stood here the more Marg would get curious, and you’d be caught slacking on the job.

His lip curled up to the side naturally, just like it had yesterday when you introduced yourself to him. “Ain’t a stalker,” he confirmed, re-pocketing his lighter.

You found his candid response refreshing’. Naturally a honey rumblin’ laugh tumbled out of you “Good to ‘ear. My co-worker y’see ‘round over there?” Flicking the residue on the end of your cigarette out of the way, you pointed at her simultaneously. “She thinks ya are. Doesn’t appreciate the loitering.”

He shook his head then, long pretty eyelashes fanning his lower lids as he puckered his lips against the cig. His eyes squinted across the campus for only a second until his gaze landed right back on you. You in another denim overall number with a whole new canvas of embroidered fun. This time, knowing that you were gonna be out in the yard come afternoon, you opted on a classic jean overall. There was always the possibility of having to kneel on the grassy ground or near the sand pit, having to scoop up a youngin’ that refused to leave the playground. You learned your lesson rather quickly within your first few months of teaching. Tripping over yourself in such a situation left a tear in your favorite skirt. A skirt you still frowned about every time you found a certain piece in your closet that would make the perfect pair.

Funnily enough, if Benny knew of such a thing he would’ve made sure the same exact piece of clothing was at your doorstep and back in your closet before the thought crossed your sweet little mind.

But you didn’t know that. Not yet, that is.

And Benny — well Benny wasn’t payin’ as much attention as he would’ve liked to what you were sayin’, and he wasn’t quite interested in Margie anyways. His interests lied with you, and in his defense, the sight of you in your heart shaped sunnies wasn't helping the cause one bit. It was hard to take you seriously when you looked that stinkin’ cute. Made him wanna put you in his jacket pocket for safe keeping. And hell was he itching to just drive his bike right through the fuckin’ fence to break the barrier between you two. He was still beatin’ himself up for not taking your hand when you offered it to him yesterday. Hence why he was here, stakin’ you out. Hoping to fix his mistake.

Because the last thing he ever wanted to do was fuck this up with you.

Instead of enertainin’ your comment or makin’ a move to leave upon your far from subtle hints, far from linear to your own wishes, he changed the topic completely. “What time y’get outta ‘ere?”

You took a long drag of your cigarette, to calm your anxieties. The smoke circled ‘round your face for a moment before it traveled across the fence, reachin’ for Benny. Ironically, it was as if the smoke mirrored your desires of clinging onto the man in front of you. “‘round the same time as the girls, a little after,” you replied, curiosity adding, “what’s it to ya?”

“Wanna go for a ride?” He inquired casually. As if he was just stoppin’ by and hadn’t been sitting here for a good three quarters of the school day waitin’ for you.

The simple question spilling from those pretty lips of his made you melt in an instant. If it wasn’t for the obvious heat as a buffer to such a state, your mind would’ve found him as the culprit. “Where?”

“‘round.” He shrugged, not offering much of a plan. His casual demeanor remained concrete to his form.

An innocent smirk stretched across your face, blooming the apples of your cheeks and creasing the plane of your forehead. Now you were the one to flex amusement against a cylinder wedged between honey glossed lips. Now Benny was the one to be somewhat grateful for the honeycomb — if you will. Cause if the fence wasn’t there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. He’d have your honey gloss all over his lips, tasting your sweetness without a second thought. Without caring about Margie or the students on the playground. Without caring about anyone really, but you.

Always you.

Perhaps anyone else would be rather suspicious of a plan with really no plan at all. Sure Margie would need a bulleted itinerary on fresh stationary, color coated and attached to a clipboard respectfully. But you — no, you appreciated his carefree mentality. It was peaceful in comparison to the stressing atmosphere that surround you on a daily basis, dotting on the kiddos in your classes, worryin’ constantly about ‘em.

Two could play this game, you thought.

Just at the end of your cigarette, your pretty fingers reached between a ring in the honeycomb, motioning it back to him. “Would ya put this out f’me?” You asked sweetly, mascara coated lashes batting about behind those obvious heart eyes of yours. “Don’t want the kids to find it in the grass.”

“Mhm,” Benny hummed, finding your concern for this children too fuckin’ cute. How could he ever say no to a sweet thang like you? He just couldn’t.

Your fingers grazed his as he took it from you, a touch that you found yourself thanking your faith for allowing you to bask in again.

This time he not only put out his cigarette, but yours too in the garden of buds that would blossom into a metaphor. A metaphor that had you joining his crew. Becoming a part of the club, joining his family, and fulfilling your wifely duties of planting a seed or two more along the way. Growin’ Benny some baby honeys of your very own.

Your lack of a reply to his offer didn’t sway him by any means, only fueled his fire tenfold. Turning on his heel then, you couldn’t help but frown, thinkin’ your hesitance turned him impatient and over the prospect completely. Especially when you watched him mount his bike and rev the engine, ready to ride away without another word. But Benny — no he still had somethin’ to say, and he was gonna say it alright. “I’ll see ya out front after school, Honey.” He decided, “I’ll be waitin’.”

The sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue — as smooth as honey sliding down your throat in a soothing tea — was all you needed to make your decision.

With your fun little backpack — straps resting against your shoulders — absolutely decked out in pins and keychains alike, you’d spot him at dismissal, and he’d be waitin’. Waitin’ for you to come. Wonderin’ if you were comin’.

Askin’ himself ‘Honey, are you comin’?’

Of course you would. You always would with Benny, no matter what.

And when you mounted his bike, your body molding into his like you were made for him, and your hands wrapping around his waist, Benny’s mistake proved to be no more. Suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

Right because you were one step closer to being his honey.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

hi-ya, i hope you enjoyed part 2! there’s so much more to come. expect a from the hive 🎙️🐝 installment real soon :)

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

@m00npjm

@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

@themorriganisamonster

@real-lana-del-rey

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

@harryandhishairclip

@themorriganisamonster

@alexa4040

@returntopresley

@imladrisofabookdragon

@madisonmontgomeryxoxo

@zablife

@superstarcherrycolagirl

@nerdy-novelist017

@anqeliclust-recs

@imladrisofabookdragon

@thatoneweirdgirl17

[afterhours-1985]

Come on, Johnny, what do you need?

The Bikeriders (2023) dir. Jeff Nichols

[semperamans]

nsfw! age-gap! cheating! daddy-issues (kinda)! clo being absolutely insane over johnny again! why is this so long? why am i so crazy?

good morning i'm currently thinkin' about stayin' at johnny's house because betty is away n'someone has gotta help him watch the girls.

you've been the davis' babysitter since you were in high school - the girls were just babies, then - but now some years have passed n'since you've been here ya can't help but notice how attractive johnny is :( he's so sweet on ya, too. placin' his hand on the small of your back as he passes you in the kitchen while you're makin' the girls' lunches :( tellin' ya your hair looks pretty when you've got it pinned up like that :( he even makes ya dinner even though that's supposed to be your job, but "y've been workin' so hard, peach. know the girls are a lot. s'let me take care of ya." and oh he's so lovely. he listens to music while he cooks and wears an apron the girls got 'em for fathers day and he helps you with the dishes afterward and you are in love with him.

you've never felt like this before. your heart hammers whenever he returns from a long day of truckin' n'his sleepy eyes brighten at the sight of you standin' in the foyer with a beer and a smile. he's so thankful for you, he says. y'make life so much easier, he confesses. and ugh :( what are you to do about this? i mean, these feelings so new n'unfamilar and the only thing you've found that somewhat tames them is when ya stick your pillow between your legs in the quiet of the night n'imagine it's johnny :'( your favorite thing to think about is when ya caught him slippin' out of the bathroom with a pink fluffy towel 'round his waist. you'd never seen a man in so little before, my god, your heart nearly lept from your chest. your cheeks flushed and he apologized and you told him it was fine because it was then slipped into your room to ride your pillow until you couldn't breathe :'( johnny was so pretty n'yeah, you figured men his age didn't like to be called that, but it was god's truth. his chorded muscles dusted with hair and tattoos and scars made want drip down your thighs because boys your age simply didn't look like that :( they didn't smell the way he did; a delicious blend of smoke and spice and cedar. boys your age didn't care, but johnny did :( johnny lit a fire one night once the girls were in bed n'he toasted your marshmallows and asked about your interest n'what you wanted to be when you were older and you wanted to tell him that you would love to be his wife - but you couldn't obviously, so you told 'em about the classes you had taken back in high school. how there was this program and you talked and talked but he never seemed bored. didn't shoot you down the way your father had. johnny placed his big ole hand on your bare knee n'smiled while he told ya "ya can do anythin' ya set your mind to, doll. don't let nothin' stop you. i believe in ya. know you're gonna do so so good." his wedding ring - a cold metal band - bit into your skin almost like a reminder that johnny wasn't yours... but you could do anything, right?

"momma's comin' home tomorrow." johnny told the girls the next mornin' and you were sure your heart shattered all over the floor. the girls were happy, of course, but you couldn't even fake a smile. it had been so easy to play house with betty gone. so easy to fool your mind into believin' that this was your house, those were your dresses in the closet, those were your girls racin' off to the bus, n'that johnny was your husband. but no :( none of it was true n'soon you'd be back at your parents' house - back in the real world - n'it was just so unfair :( johnny seemed to sense that something was wrong. before he left, he placed a soft hand on your shoulder n'made you turn to face him, but you shook your head n'swore you only had a headache. he didn't believe you, the frown on his face made that apparent, but he didn't fight you. he just pinched the round of your cheek softly, told ya to have a good day, n'left.

is it strange that despite your sadness you still have to ride your pillow over the thought of what didn't happen? probably. as you whine and pant and writhe, you envision what would've happened if johnny would've cupped your cheek n'pressed his lips against yours :( you would have licked into his mouth :( would've let his saliva coat your tongue n'drip down your chin and he would have placed his hand 'round your throat to pull you closer :( he would tell you how pretty you are. how you just know him like no one else does n'he's a lucky old man that a girl like you wants 'em. you cum over and over and over to the thought of him takin' you on the counter, but it doesn't satiate the ache between your thighs. you're so frustrated and overstimulated and upset, but you've got a plan.

it takes a while n'when you finally creep into johnny's room the wall clock reads 2:45 am. it isn't the best idea you've ever had, but it makes so much sense in your lust-addled mind. johnny said he'd take care of ya, right? said he'd always be there if ya needed anything, right? well, you need help because "johnny? johnny? it hurts." :( n'he's an old man, y'know, so it takes 'em a minute to wake up. he's gotta grab his glasses n'slide 'em on, but then he sees you in your silk nightie and jesus christ.

"what's goin' on, sweets?" you've got tears in your eyes and your lips are bitten bright red and you look so pretty in the shaft of moonlight that spills through the window and onto johnny's bedding. you don't answer right away, just nuzzle your way onto his lap and brush your nose into his neck. he can hear the scrape of your soft skin on his prickly stubble and you sigh like it's everything you've ever needed. "tell johnny what's got ya so upset. c'mon." he wants you to look at him, but he wouldn't be able to pry ya off with a goddamn crowbar. you're latched onto him, snuffling into his bare shoulder all sad and defeated. poor baby.

"hurts." you repeat, sniffling. "hurts so bad."

"what hurts?"

the clock ticks and you hiccup and your fingers wrap around johnny's wrist n'tug it over where it lands on your knee, first, then you're pullin' him up up up and he should stop you because he knows where this is going, but fuck he can't. sure enough, you stop 'em right when his hand covers your cunt. it's warm. he can feel the warmth radiating through your thin little panties and his fingers twitch with the urge to touch, but no. that's not okay. he figures he hasn't taken a breath in a minute, so he releases a sigh that shudders n'he squeezes his eyes shut tight.

"peach, i-"

"jus' need to cum, please johnny." you take his face in your palms the way you so badly wanted him to do to you n'his hand still lays protectively over your clothed center and god you just want to kiss him. "please. i'll be good, so good. promise." when his eyes open he's blinking at you, pupils pulsing back and forth between your own, but then they flicked down to your lips n'you know you've got 'em. and maybe he was right. maybe you can do anything. "jus' hurts."

"yeah?" johnny turns his cheek, kissin' your palm and you fuckin' gasp because you didn't think it would be this easy and maybe he is in love with you. "why don't i take a look? wanna lay back for me?"

his scent tangles around you as you lay yourself back against the pillows, blinkin' down at him so wide-eyed and mesmerized. he's smiling at you :( thinks the heave of your chest is so cute n'you're just such a precious baby who needs his help :( that's all he's doin'. just helpin'.

"open up, c'mon." he says, patting your thigh n'your knees part at his words, revealing the wet center of your panties and johnny coos.

"y've been touchin' yourself? yeah? s'that what's got ya all wet?" you can't respond. you just throw your head back at the feel of his fingers tracing patterns along the slick, but johnny likes good girls, so he ceases his ministrations, and glances up at you expectantly. "tell daddy, c'mon."

"i-i have - have been touchin' myself," you breathe, suddenly bashful. johnny just hums, hooking his index finger 'round your panties to move 'em over and he can tell.

"mm." he probes an exploratory finger against your folds and you really think it's goin' somewhere until he situates your panties back in place, then rocks back onto the balls of his feet. "show me."

you positively balk in response, shaking your head quickly because that's embarrassing. no way. there is no way -

"wan' my help, yeah? gotta show me what you're doin' so i know how to fix it."

and - well, he's gotta point, you guess. so you let out a pitiful little huff, rolling onto your tummy, shovin' johnny's pillow between your thighs :( and oh he is mesmerized and fucked and so hard it's almost comical how his dick sticks up in his briefs. he watches you so intently: the way your nightie rides up your back revealing the cutest little dimples at your spine, the roll of your hips, the tightening of your fists against the sheets. you make these sounds, sounds that he's only ever heard when he had his ear pressed to your door and they are so beautiful. so this is what you were doing all those times? grinding your clit against the cotton pillowcases his wife picked out?

"i know what the problem is, baby." johnny says, placin' his large hand on your back to still you. your head luls, tear-soaked lashes fluttering at 'em. "y'need somethin' inside. think that's gonna help so much." he maneuvers you so delicately - like he's afraid you're gonna break. "get on top of me, peach. daddy'll show you how to do it right, kay? y'trust me? yeah?"

you do. you trust him. you love him. you're so in love with him.

"gimmie some sugar first. let me kiss ya." the kiss is a distraction because what comes next is gonna hurt because surely you've never had fingers any bigger than your own in ya, right? but johnny is easy with ya :( eases ya open and praises you for bein' so good :( then it's time. he's hoverin' over ya - mouthin' at your neck because you smell so good there - n'his cock nudges between your lips in a dull stretch.

"daddy's gonna show ya."

and he does.