#but I've realised that doesn't matter 😌

[whenfatecollides]

1.08 Proverbs 14:1 // 2.04 Corinthians 10:20-21

[olivianyx]

OMGG I JUST GOT RESULTS WITHOUT BEATING MYSELF UP WITH ROUTINES 😭 + RANT ✨

HEYY LUVS! I JUST WANNA SHARE MY RESULTS I MANIFESTED WITHIN 2-3 DAYS! THIS YEAR'S GONNA BE MY BEST YEAR Y'ALL ✋AND GUESS WHAT I DID? NOTHING. LITERALLY NOTHING. NUH-UH. PERIODT.

⚠ LONG POST AHEAD, SWEARING ⚠

WHAT I MANIFESTED:

🪄 PASSING MY FRESHMAN YEAR WITH HIGH SCORES

🪄 MY FAMILY BOUGHT A NEW APARTMENT WHICH WERE PREPARING TO MOVE IN 3 WEEKS

🪄 ME GETTING INTO THE VOID STATE 😭 AND MANIFESTED CLEAR SKIN! (DAYUM GETTING INTO THE VOID IS DEFO VERY EASY OMGG)

🪄 GETTING LESS ANXIOUS LATELY!

🪄 MY GASTRITIS AND ULCERITIS GETTING CURED

🪄 GETTING MORE COMPLIMENTS IN MY UNI!

🪄 GETTING TALLER! I WENT FROM 5'3" TO 5'7" IN 2 DAYS 😭😭

🪄 GETTING DREAMS OF ME SHIFTING TO MY WR 🥺 (ACTUALLY RESPAWNING LOL, AS THIS THING IS REALLY CONTROVERSIAL IN HERE, PLEASE DON'T GET ME CANCELLED- I'M DOING DEATHLESS RESPAWNING ✋)

🪄 MY MIND IS SURPRISINGLY CALM 😌 THERE'S STILL INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS THO (THOSE ARE ANNOYING ASS BITCHES) BUT I JUST IGNORE EM LIKE I IGNORE PEOPLE AT SCHOOL 🗿

🪄 GOT MANY CONFESSIONS TOO 😭 AND I REJECTED EM ALL, CUS I JUST WANT TO BE SINGLE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE ✋🗿 JK

🪄 GETTING COOL CLOTHES THAT MY MOM DENIED A LOTTA TIMES! (ACTUALLY I'VE ORDERED EM BUT STILL HAVEN'T SHIPPED TO MY ADDRESS YET LOL)

🪄 MY CRUSH BECOMING CLOSE TO ME HEHE 🤭 LIKE SHE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT ME MUCH, BUT LATELY SHE'S BEEN TOO CLOSE TO ME AND ALWAYS WANNA BE WITH ME LOL, 3 DAYS BACK SHE AND I WALKED HOME TOGETHER, WHILE WE GRABBED SOME SNACKS, SPOKE ABT EACH OTHER AND ALL (I FELT LIKE BEING IN A SHOUJO MANGA 😩)

🪄 A NEW PHONE! THAT SAMSUNG GALAXY S22 😩

I MANIFESTED EVERYTHING WITHIN 3 DAYS 😭 I REALLY CAN'T BELIEVE MY EYES, JUST. 3. FUCKING. DAYS. GODDAMMIT.

HOW I DID IT:

JUST FULFILLED IT IN MY IMAGINATION

YEP, YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT. I LIVED IN THE 4D REALITY, I NEVER GAVE A SHIT ABOUT THE 3D AT ALL. OK LEMME BREAK IT DOWN FOR Y'ALL SO JUST PAY ATTENTION FROM HERE ONWARDS.

🪄 SUPPOSE SOMETHING UNDESIRABLE OR UNFAVORABLE CIRCUMSTANCES ARE HAPPENING IN YOUR 3D. WHO'S THE CAUSE FOR THAT? YOU. 'BUT I DIDN'T IMAGINE OR THINK OF THESE 😭' BABY, YOU'RE THE SOLE CAUSE, EFFECT, AND THE SOLUTION. THERE'S NO OTHER EXPLANATION TO THIS.

🪄 AS WE ALL KNOW, 3D IS A MIRROR. RIGHT? WHATEVER YOU THINK ABOUT, YOUR ASSUMPTIONS, YOUR THOUGHTS, YOUR FEELINGS, YOUR PERSPECTIVE EVERYTHING WILL BE REFLECTED. SO WHY NOT THINK THE WAY YOU WANT SO YOU CAN EXPERIENCE THE SAME? GET IT.

🪄 IF YOU WANT TO CHANGE THE 3D, CHANGE YOUR 4D FIRST. CHANGE YOUR PERSPECTIVE TO HOW YOUR DESIRED SELF WOULD SEE THE WORLD. KEEP DWELLING IN IT. IF THE 3D SHOWS UNFAVORABLE CIRCUMSTANCES, DON'T FUCKING GET TRIGGERED. GO BACK TO YOUR IMAGINATION AND DENY YOUR SENSES.

🪄 EVERYTIME YOU SEE SOMETHING ELSE IN THE 3D, GO 'BRUHH THIS IS MY OLD STORY, I ALREADY HAVE WHAT I WANT, THIS IS JUST FAKE' AND MOVE ON. DISTRACT YOURSELF. CUS THE 3D WORLD WHICH YOU SEE IS AN ILLUSION, IT'S NOT REAL. IT'S YOUR CREATION, WHY WOULD YOU TRY TO CONTROL WHAT YOU CREATED? IT'S ALREADY IN CONTROL. YOU ONLY GOTTA REALISE YOUR GODSELF. YOU ARE THE CREATOR, NOT THE CREATION. STOP FUCKING VICTIMIZING YOURSELF.

🪄 I GET IT THAT MOST OF THE PEOPLE ARE CONFUSED BETWEEN LAW OF ASSUMPTION AND NON DUALISM. EVEN I WAS, BUT SLOWLY I REALISED THAT WE'RE ALL NOTHING. WE'RE JUST LIVING IN OUR OWN CREATIONS. VICTIMIZING OURSELVES IN OUR OWN CREATIONS. IRONIC RIGHT?

🪄 THOSE THOUGHTS, ANXIETY, FEELINGS, EMOTIONS ARE ALL IN YOUR PHYSICAL REALM. YOUR MIND, YOUR BODY, YOUR EGO EVERYTHING IS NO REAL, WE ASSUME IT TO BE. WE'RE ARE SHAPELESS, FORMLESS, WE'RE NOTHING! AND EVERYTHING AT THE SAME TIME. CUS EVERYTHING COMES DOWN TO ONE THING, I AM.

🪄 K Y'ALL MIGHT BE SUPER CONFUSED, WHAT I'M TRYNA INFUSE IN YOUR BRAINS. SO WHAT YOU DO IS, LIVE IN YOUR 4D.HOW? IMAGINATION. NO MATTER WHAT YOU SEE IN YOUR 3D, GO BACK TO YOUR IMAGINATION, AFFIRM OR VISUALISE. ANYTHING IS FINE BTW. JUST STAY IN THE STATE OF WISH FULFILLED.

🪄 STOP RELYING ON METHODS, FUCK THEM. JUST BE. DON'T TRY TO CHANGE SOMETHING WHEN YOU ALREADY HAVE THEM. JUST STOP, SURRENDER, STOP FIGHTING, STOP TRYING SO HARD WHEN YOUR ALREADY IT. SO GO LIVE IN YOUR IMAGINATION, FULLY SURRENDER. DO THINGS WHICH YOU LIKE. GO LIVE YOUR LIFE. TAKE YOUR POWER BACK.

LIKE AREN'T YOU TIRED? TRAPPED IN YOUR OWN CREATIONS? YOU CREATED THEM, YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE WHATEVER. TELL ME HOW LONG ARE YOU GONNA LIVE THIS BULLSHIT LIFE? YOU'RE REALLY GETTING COMFORTABLE BEING UNCOMFORTABLE. SO LISTEN UP, DO WHAT YOU LOVE, AFFIRM, VISUALISE, OR DAYDREAM, ZONE OUT, WHATEVER. ALL I DID WAS DO THIS MEDITATION IN THE MORNING, WENT ABOUT MY DAY WATCHING JUJUTSU KAISEN LMAO. THEN RANDOMLY AFFIRM, LIVED IN MY 4D, NEVER PAYED ANY FUCKING ATTENTION TO MY 3D, CUS I'M GOD. I REALLY LOVE VISUALISING, SO I PUT ON A SONG AND START DAYDREAMING IN MY ROOM SMILING LIKE AN IDIOT. ALSO, I DID SATS BEFORE GOING TO BED. THAT'S IT. THAT'S ALL I DID FOR 3 FUCKING DAYS, AND GOT WHAT EVER I WANT. ALSO I MADE A CUSTOM TAPE TOO (IT'S A GENERAL SELF CONCEPT ONE) I LISTENED TO IT FOR 30 MINS AND JUST WENT ABOUT MY DAY THINKING I HAD WHATEVER I FUCKING DESIRE, CUS IT'S ALL MY CREATIONS AND I HAVE IT ALREADY. THERE'S NOTHING TO GET, IT'S ALREADY IN ME.

LUV YOU, BYE 💋

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Morning, Mon

I'm thinking about after Hotch was in the bombing in Mayhem and lost some of his hearing, with reader who would be careful to always be on the side of his 'good' ear, or always really enunciate their words and try to speak with their mouth clearly in front of him since he has to rely on lipreading a bit more these days. Plus! they would totally show Jack to do the same since he loves to babble happily to his dad, but he sometimes misses what's being said. Being hotch though he's always too embarrassed to admit when he needs help or can't hear.

Have a blessed day, Beautiful

A Helping Hand

Warnings: Hearing loss, brief mention of the bombing, Hotch being too proud to ask for help (but eventually does), fluff.

Word count: 806

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

A/n: Oh yes yes!! This is one of the more recent ones I've seen when rewatching some of CM. It might be less of a fic?? Idk. BUT I'm posting it as one anyway 😌. Sorry if this isn't exactly what you wanted </3. I hope it's still enjoyable though :) This one was also not proofread so I apologise if there are any mistakes.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssamorganhotchner (let me know if you want to be added🫶)

After the bombing and Aaron losing some of his hearing in one ear you've tried to be considerate of his new situation and how he lives now. You know he doesn't always catch everything that's being said to or around him but you also know he hates asking for people to speak louder and more clearly because of his hearing.

You've taken it upon yourself to do whatever you can to help him. And if everyone thought you liked being around him before, they should see you now. You're by his side almost constantly when you're on cases. It started when you noticed Aaron furrowing his brows even more and trying to lean in and turn his head so he could hear the officer more clearly, whether he realised he was doing it or not. When he still looked puzzled as to what was said you had walked over to him and made sure you repeated the officer's words into Hotch's good ear. He thanked you, though he did seem a bit embarrassed that you'd had to do that for him.

Hotch needs some extra care and consideration right now and though you know he hates needing extra help, or any help for that matter, he does need it. And you're happy to help him however you can. You're stuck to his side often. Even outside of work.

When everything happened and Aaron was spending time at home more, you visited every day if there wasn't a case. The first couple times you were there, you noticed Jack rambling about everything that popped into his head but Aaron was clearly not catching most of what was being said. He was trying to see the boy's face which was directed downwards as he played with his toys. Aaron would hum and nod even though he wasn't getting most of it.

When Aaron stood up to get you all a snack, you explained in a very nice and simple way to Jack that his dad can't hear very well right now. That it will help Aaron if he can see his mouth when he speaks and that it's best to speak as clearly as he can. "You understand what I'm saying, bug?" He nodded and said everything back to you so you knew he understood what you meant. For such a young child he was very intelligent and very understanding. He made sure to do just what you'd explained and you could see the look on Aaron's face when he was able to hear so much more of what the boy said to him.

Aaron didn't know you'd said this to his son. But if he knew, he'd have been very grateful regardless of the embarrassment he'd have felt. Because knowing what his son loves and wants to tell him all about is far more important to him than anything else.

Whenever Aaron was on the plane you always sat next to him, making sure to be on the side of his good ear. He noticed this after the first few times. He never mentioned it, though you knew he'd figured it out quickly.

He appreciated it. You always made sure he was fully informed and aware of what was happening. If someone threw an idea into the open and he looked a little lost, you would repeat it in his good ear. Or if you hadn't realised he missed something he would look to you and if you made eye contact he leaned in a little closer to you and you'd tell him then. Or if you hadn't been looking at him he would give you a slight nudge to get your attention. He was starting to get more comfortable asking for help, but only with you. He still wouldn't ask anyone else.

Everyone tried to be mindful and considerate. But they didn't go to the extent that you did.

Aaron's new situation was frustrating and irritating to him. It caused him more stress than he already had, which you knew was quite a bit. Sometimes it would overwhelm him and you were always there to pull him back down and comfort him. You were always there for him to lean on for support. He knew you didn't do all of this out of pity, but rather out of love and care and understanding for him.

There were a couple of times that he came to you in need of a shoulder to cry on. Both times it was mostly about him being afraid he'd never hear the same and that he would miss things he had taken for granted when he could hear them. He wasn't embarrassed around you anymore, especially not about this. He knew he could always come to you for support and he was always thanking you for how much you've helped him.

[dracomort]

Hi :-) can I ask 7, 19, 22, and 29 (or if that’s too many, then whichever is most interesting to you!)

Ship Ask Game (answering for The Travelling Cabinet universe Taco).

Thank you for your ask! I'll answer 7, 22 and 29 for this one.

7. Who is the more romantic one?

Draco is by far the more classically romantic person. He loves the idea that he fell in love with the first person he met in the 40s (just... doesn't love the reality that it was literally Voldemort), and he adores the thought of being both the giver and receiver of grand acts of romance. His problem is that he knows Tom would find such gestures stupid, wasteful and suspicious.

Part of maturing for Draco is recontextualising what 'romance' is beyond the saucy novels he pinched off his ex-girlfriend as a fifteen-year-old. Once he realises that someone committing a massacre for you is, in fact, a grand act of romance, and that stealing significant artefacts for your significant other is their idea of peak romance, he'll be a lot more satisfied 😌. And once Tom realises Draco wants flowers pinched from the Hogwarts greenhouses, there will be no unhappiness in their relationship on that front.

22. How do they apologize after arguments?

Both of them are terrible at apologising. Which is good, in a strange way, as in that regard there's no imbalance.

Tom doesn't tend to take Draco's tantrums seriously because drama occurs with him on a daily basis. If the upset continues for more than a day or two, then he'll actually start trying to solve the problem. If the problem is unsolvable—like, 'i'm upset that you're not upset that a theoretical future version of you did X'—then he draws a blank. Mostly he waits till Draco forgets he's angry. Draco is the quick-to-boil, quick-to-cool type of kettle. He likes to give the silent treatment but can never maintain it for very long because he enjoys the sound of his own voice too much.

I've been trying to think of a scenario in this universe where Tom would expect an apology, but none have sprung to mind. He's got a high tolerance for Draco's brand of annoying, having spent seven years with spoilt, stuck-up purebloods for housemates, and besides that, I don't see Tom putting much stock in apologies. Actions over words.

29. What is something they can never agree on? How do they meet in the middle?

So, there's the obvious one—the just and humane way of disposing of Muggles. Tom's views are utterly unaltered, no matter how much other growth he might have done over the course of the fic. Draco, having gained perspective and maturity from 1) seeing Muggles tortured to death at the Manor, and 2) actually meeting and talking to them through his adventures in the 40s, is less keen on the 'slaughter them all' strategy. However, he has zero chance of ever convincing Tom, because Tom (rightfully) believes Draco knows nothing about Muggles compared to him.

Now, moving on from homicide to a very mundane couple problem—I think they'd have irreconcilable differences in their attitudes toward managing finances. Tom has the penny-pinching financial anxiety of a poverty-stricken Great Depression orphan, Draco has the carefree spending habits and inability to budget of any filthy rich pureblood. Once Draco finishes his traineeship, probably the healthiest way forward for them is a joint account for expenses and separate savings accounts 🤣

[moonless-if]

Hello, I just finished playing the Moonless demo! I have to say, the customization options are amazing — the number of options presented honestly threw me for a loop in the best ways possible. I had a blast designing my MC :D

I'm already so excited for what's coming next!! And... a little apprehensive. The game description says MC is an illune, a moonless guard under the royal family — which the current MC is quite obviously not. And the character description for Rainn flat out tells you that they're a figure from your past, and you'll be "reuniting" with them.

(And, from what I've gathered, the illune doesn't even exist yet.)

All things that don't bode well for the grand heist MC and Rainn will be embarking on. ...Well, that's a bit of an understatement. It's practically a stone cold guarantee that their heist will (one way or another) fail. And that MC and Rainn will somehow be separated, going on to lead very different lives in two very separate worlds.

😌😌😌✊🏽 I can already sense the incoming angst of their reunion. Yes, I'm apprehensive, but also. Angst. 😌✊🏽

I also really appreciate the variety of conversation choices you offer — playing an IF is so much more fun when you're allowed to build your character past the basic shy/bold/sarcastic responses :D

I can't wait to see what comes next! I The world you've built in the prologue alone already feels so full and alive. Getting to see it expand is a journey that I'm very happy to be a part of.

Do take your time, though! I'm well aware that writing and coding so many details and variables must take ages. We'll all gladly be waiting 😊 Good luck, and have a good day!! Ah, and though that was quite a few days ago, I'm glad your dog is okay! My best wishes to the two of you💙💙💙

hi and thank you for the ask! seeing it pop up in my inbox and reading about the dots you've connected really brightened my day! 💖

short answer is you're right about 99% of your theories and that makes me so happy! 😍 because while i do enjoy there being stuff to unravel and figure out, i don't want it to be entirely impossible to do it, so... yeah! mc is not an illune yet and the heist will fail no matter what you do (so don't feel bad about that) and mc and Rainn will go down separate roads until they're reunited again in chapter one (most likely ch1 at least)!

the order of illune does exist in the prologue, but it's in its infancy, so very small and not publicly known (mc and Rainn have no idea it exists for example).

i won't go too much into it since i hope it'll become apparent in the game why the order is unknown in the prologue, but the reason why i decided to make the prologue almost a prequel of sorts was both to establish a relationship with Rainn from the get-go, rather than that only coming up in possibly flashbacks or discussions with them further into the story, as well as establish how mc came to be recruited into the order of illune.

and oh yes, there will be angst between mc and Rainn. how much depends on how you want to play it, but you can't avoid it entirely. another reason why i actually wanted to write the prologue in the way i'm doing it, cause otherwise you'd reunite with Rainn again and i'd have to tell you what happened and make you decide in the moment how you feel about it, rather than building it in the prologue and then letting you stew in it for a bit.

when i first started writing the moonless, the prologue was just going to be a brief maybe like 2-5k words glimpse into all of this, but as i got into writing it the story felt very much like "this is mc and they did this and then this happened" and it just felt very inorganic. i realised that because only mc gets recruited and not mc and Rainn, i really needed to show how that happened (or half the reason at least) and why they fall out of touch and don't reconnect in the years between the prologue and chapter one.

and just like you've deduced, to get to that point, the heist will likely fail. honestly, i probably could've had a version where you succeeded with the heist and the rest still works out the way it should, but i don't wanna 😂 both because of the extra added work it would be and because that's not as interesting to me as making you auto-fail.

that's not to say there won't be some variation to how and more importantly when the heist fails 👀 there'll be lots of tiny variations that's basically just flavour text, but if you make it as far as you possibly can, and with the "correct" stats, there'll be a lil something extra in it for you (the reader) as repayment for you (mc) failing the heist 😎 i will put together a small guide on how to get to the "bonus content" for those who want it, but once i'm actually done writing it.

as far as customisation (both appearance and personality-wise) goes, i'm happy you feel like there are plenty of options! 💖 when i release the rest of the prologue (hopefully at the start of this summer, if i can keep up my schedule!) there will be some re-write of what's already out, but any appearance options that might disappear will come up later (i always planned for there to be a pt2 to character customisation in chapter one, for things that might've changed between the prologue and ch1, so if any options are missing, just know that they'll be added later!)

as far as personality/conversation options, those are being rewritten as well, but really only to add more choices, so hopefully the rewrite will only make it better! 🫣

like i said, i'm hoping to be done with the rest of the prologue by early summer, but i still have a ways to go. to compare, my detailed outline for the prologue is around 17k words, which is about the same length is what's already out of the demo lmao!

again, thank you so much for your kind words! it means a lot that you took the time to write down and send me your thoughts on the story, and it's a real shot of motivation for me to keep writing!

[vwritesaus]

y'know. i just noticed something. i've been thinking about all my former irl crushes/people i've fallen hard for in the past, and have come to the glaring realisation that there is a common denominator between them all

they all had/have brown eyes

dark to the point of blackness, light as amber, pure hazel, doesn't matter. they were all some shade of brown, be it strictly that colour or with other colours flecked through. and most of them had black or brown/some dark colour dyed hair too

and i gotta say, i am not at all surprised by this LOL. i just never noticed that it's a literal pattern until now

looks like i share yet another attribute with our darling thomas lightwood 😌✨

which begs the question... where is my alastair!?

[plainxte]

🛒💌🧐🦅🤗 for the fic ask game?

Hi hi! Thanks so much for the ask! 😘

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

I don't know that I repeat things knowingly - there's a lot of repetition always anyway. 😅 I love writing first times, falling in love (or realising you're in love) - and I suppose there's often fantasy elements in my writing, and dreams... And I love stories-within-a-story, so those as well. Oops, that's quite a lot! 😁

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

I love it! Yes please! 😊

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

Well... Some! I wouldn't say I do a lot of research necessarily (there's always dates to check though) but some of it, certainly - but in many of my stories, the framework is something I've been looking into, for one reason or another, already. So I've already done the research and kind of wanted to use it for a fic, too 🤔

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

Oh, all the outlines. Diagrams. Mind maps. Everything. 😌

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

Hmm 🤔 write what you want to write (not what someone else thinks you should); write the fics you'd want to read yourself; and write what you love. Write for yourself.

And figure out how writing is easiest for you - regardless of what anyone else says, about how you should use this programme or that, write a certain amount of words a day or never plan, or how you should always do this or that: none of it matters if it doesn't work for you. Find the ways that do.

And remember: it's supposed to be a good thing in your life. If you're not enjoying it, you might want to do something differently. Maybe?

Thanks again! ❤️

[happyhauntt]

4 for the ask game Faye 😌

thank you so much for sending this in!!! fanfic prompts.

4. lore dump for your ocs.

i'm gonna pick my spencer reid oc emma morley for this!! y'all might recognise some of this because i've been incorporating her story into my spencer x medical examiner!reader series so i thought it would be cool for you to know the origins of that!

emma morley is a medical examiner who joins the bau around season 7 (her fic was originally a season 7 au) under mysterious circumstances. she basically acts as their independent medical examiner and signs off on paperwork mostly, but does travel with the team on some of their cases in the field.

she is autistic!! i love her so much

emma is a single mom and lives with her sister-in-law jackie. her daughter nell is three years old. nell's father, emma's husband, was a cop who died in the field when they lived in california. emma was county coroner for los angeles at the time. she was offered the job with the bae shortly thereafter and she, jackie and nell all relocated to DC.

emma and her husband had a complicated relationship!! she adored him, and he adored her, but neither of them was in love. theirs was more a relationship built on deep friendship, and they married for stability, but that doesn't detract from how deep their bond was. emma was devastated when he died. jackie doesn't know that their relationship wasn't romantic, which puts a strain on emma when she starts to get feelings for spencer.

emma feels so guilty for falling in love with spencer. she feels like she's betrayed her husband, like she's betraying jackie, like she's robbing her daughter of something. emma's literally so delulu because the moment jackie finds out she's like 'you thought i'd hate you for not loving my brother?? you loved him so deeply you fucking donut, it doesn't matter to me what kind of love it was, you deserve to be fucking!!! happy!!!!'

bc i am a fan of Angst it was going to turn out that her husband's death had something to do with a stalker who'd begun targeting emma which is why the fbi offered her a job. emma doesn't really know about this until the bau gets involved with the case when the unsub starts killing in DC and they realise how it all ties back to her and her husband's murder. cue the Pain.

happy ending because emma and spencer deserved that!!!!

[sparklingchim]

oops..; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

rating: 18+

genre: smut, idol!au, secret relationship, established relationship

warnings: quickie, koo is a needy boy, sex in a public bathroom stall, unprotected sex, clit play, spit kink, tattoo kink?, finger sucking, choking, getting caught by paparazzi, mentions of handcuffing, blowjob, cum swallowing, groping

summary: a quickie in the airport restroom was all it was supposed to be - not suddenly the whole world finding out about your secret relationship with jungkook.

a/n: the title is so ingenious isn't it😌😌 this is literally just an excuse to write something about jk in his cool airport fashion looks hehe

masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

,,You're acting like a hormonal teenager."

Despite your complains you allow Jungkook to drag you to the restrooms.

,,I swear we'll be quick."

,,Can't you wait till we get home?"

,,You're teasing me since this morning and dare to ask that question?"

You frown. You're only able to recall how you scolded him this whole morning because his clothes were all over your hotel room and he was being way too slow with packing his things, despite having to leave in an hour.

,,I've never teased you."

Jungkook turns his head to look back at you, you can't see his whole face due to the bucket head and black mask covering it, but you bet he's arching his newly pierced eyebrow right now.

He knows you too well to quickly realise that the clueless look on your face is genuine and that you aren't messing around with him - you are actually oblivious to the things you did this morning, very much to his wonder.

,,Doesn't matter, right now I just wanna feel your tight pussy around my cock."

,,What if there are people?"

,,Wait here and I'll check if someone's there. If I don't come out within 10 seconds you can come inside too," Jungkook tells you, letting go of your hand and entering the men's restroom.

With vigilant eyes you observe your surroundings. Trying to look casual and insouciant. Perhaps it's a little too much, there are barely any people at the airport at this early hour. Just a few people strolling around, far away.

You wait a bit longer than ten seconds, but when you're sure that Jungkook would have returned if there were any people in, you enter the restroom as well.

Before you are able to say something about the fancy facility, Jungkook captures your lips in a hungry kiss as he pushes his face mask down his face.

He sighs while moving his lips passionately against yours. Hands on your hips, he directs you to a bathroom stall, knocking the door open with his foot.

He carelessly throws his big backpack on the floor, pressing you against the wall.

With the door locked, his hands start roaming over your curves and swells. He gives your butt a good squeeze, trailing his hands up your hips to your heavy breasts.

,,You drive me crazy," he murmurs between kisses placed on your décolleté.

,,You're wearing way too many layers," you huff as you examine Jungkook's upper body, trying to tug his black jacket down.

,,We don't need to take off our clothes, baby." Kissing up your neck he's back at the sweet spot just under your earlobe.

,,Please?" you plead, tempting him by reaching your hand under his clothes and skimming over his abs. ,,Wanna see your tattoos."

He chuckles. Jungkook can't forbid it when you bat your eyelashes at him that cute way, so he shimmies his jacket off his shoulders and you help him getting out of his pullover.

,,C'mere," he says as soon as his clothes are thrown on top of his backpack.

Hoisting your body off the ground you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

One greedy hand is situated between your legs, one smooth motion and your panties are flicked aside, digits roaming over your dripping pussy.

,,My girl's so wet," Jungkook hums. A sweep over your swollen clit and you're already uttering a whimper. He grins. ,,Like that?"

,,Jungkook," you scold, though you have to admit that it sounds more like a whine. ,,Don't tease. Make this fast. You promised."

With your reminder, he pulls his black cargo pants down together with his briefs till his cock springs out.

You're stunned at his hard-on, the tip leaking with precum already.

,,I want you so badly," he mumbles, smooching your face.

You titter. ,,The times at the resort weren't enough for you?" You already lost count of how many times he fucked you by the time you went to sleep the first day. You believe that there's no surface left in the room that Jungkook didn't bend you over to claim what's his.

,,I could never get enough of you," he admits, biting the flesh above your collarbone.

And with that, Jungkook slides inside of you, the stretch of his girth a pleasant feeling that you welcome. Wholly tucked inside your heat he meets the beginning of your cervix, and without having to move you are already a whiny mess for him.

,,Baby," he whispers with a cautionary undertone, a hint of amusement at your reaction portrayed in the curve of his lips.

You stare at him, innocently, fingers cramping at his biceps when he slowly rolls his hips into you.

,,Can you keep quiet for me? Hm? Can you do that?"

Honestly, you're not sure.

,,Dunno," you reply, fingers gripping at his burly arms as he sets a fast pace, both of your bodies colliding with each snap of his hips.

And because Jungkook sees the exact moment when he adjust you on his hips, his cock reaching that spot inside you and as your twisted face prepares to utter a loud moan, he takes the opportunity to plunge two of his fingers inside your mouth. You immediately close your mouth around him, sucking on his digits like the obedient girl you are.

Now moans muffled and keeping this as 'quiet' as possible, Jungkook thrusts faster inside. He heaves a few strained grunts, the tightness of your pussy leaving him no option for complete silence.

Seeing his bare, tattooed arm while he rams inside you is somehow enkindling the burning knot in your stomach. Every new tattoo he adds on his arm is making him more desirable. And now with the new eyebrow piercing you've finally lost everything. He was effortlessly handsome and hot before all of this, but now with these added details it's just another perk for your sly eyes.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth he puts them inside his, this simple action making your walls quiver in glee. After sucking your saliva off his fingers, his lips move to your neck and he plants butterfly kisses all over your skin. When his hands sneak under your pullover - which actually belongs to him - he halts in his movements, pinching his brows as he leans back with his head.

,,Where's your bra?"

,,Took it off."

You throw your arms around his neck, wanting to pull him back to your mouth, but he resists.

,,You wore that sexy bra this whole morning, teasing me with walking around in that matching set, just to take it off again?" He is surprised that he didn't even see when you took that damn thing off. The way it made your perky breasts squish together is still clearly rooted in his mind.

,,I didn't tease you."

,,You don't consider constantly bending down in front of me in sexy lingerie as teasing?"

He thrusts his cock back inside, going deeper and harder. You mewl, shaking your head. ,,I was just packing the last few things in our suitcases."

,,Wanted to throw you on the bed and fuck your brains out so badly." Tattooed fingers enclose your throat, putting pressure on the sides.

More juice gushes from your hole, the wet noises reverberating around the empty room increasing.

,,You're-" His cockhead nudging your cervix every time he lunges forward is stealing all your functioning brain cells and squashes them into a mass of nothingness, leaving your fighting with the sentences you want so say. ,,You're doing a pretty good job succeeding in that right now."

Having to hold back loud moans that are waiting to spill from you on the tip of your tongue is hard, but watching Jungkook in his determined, fucked out state, pumping his dick into you with precise thrusts makes you sink your teeth into your lips, almost drawing blood.

,,Yeah? You like the way my cock splits you open?"

You nod promptly. Nails dig into his shoulders. He furrows his brows and you follow the way his piercing moves along, the two little silver balls twinkling under the bright lights of the room.

,,Wanted to fuck you in that sexy outfit," Jungkook pants, pace quickening when he imagines drilling your cock into you while you are wearing the lingerie again.

,,When we get home - oh god - when we get home you can," you promise.

,,Want to cuff your hands too."

Your eyes roll back. Walls fluttering around his thick girth. ,,Everything you want."

,,Good little slut," he groans, cock twitching within your tight grasp. ,,You're close?"

You can barely nod, eyebrows pinched when the hand from your throat sneaks down and rubs your clit in precise movements.

,,Jungkook." Moaning his name, your head falls back and he can't dismiss the chance to create pink and purple marks on your skin.

With Jungkook all over you and his cock thrusting inside in rigid drags, the tight knot in your stomach bursts in a sudden sensation, pleasure filling every part of your body.

Somehow managing to draw him even closer to you, you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and bite down his skin to mute the moan that nearly fled your mouth.

,,Good girl," he coos, fingers combing through your hair in reassurance.

Jungkook holds you close to him as he drills his throbbing cock inside your clenching cunt, your essence painting his length in white stripes every time he pulls his cock back out.

,,Can I cum inside?"

Pondering about his questions for a second you answer, ,,Let's not make a mess." You slide your fingers down his buff arms. ,, Cum inside my mouth?"

Jungkook immediately pulls out of you, hand stroking his cock briskly.

,,Then get on your knees, now." Voice strained from his nearing high he pushes your shoulder down, prompting you to kneel in front of him.

Taking his cock between your lips, you focus on moving up and down his length. Jungkook groans at the feeling of your mouth around him, hand absentmindedly reaching behind your head, but not pushing you further down.

,,Just the tip, baby - fuck, yes - just like that."

Sucking on his tip and looking up at him with doe eyes you feel your mouth salivating at the thought of swallowing his cum.

Not long after that, Jungkook bursts hot white fluid down your throat and you swallow every drop of it. Giving him a few final strokes with your mouth before you withdraw with a lewd plop.

Both of you are panting, Jungkook's chest heavily rising up and down as his cock softens. He pulls you in for a kiss. Your heart swells at his tenderness.

While still calming down from your orgasms you don't have much time to bask in the afterglow. You tuck your panties in place and walk out of the stall to fix your hair. Jungkook stays behind, throwing his clothes over his body.

,,My hair looks like a nest," you mumble as you struggle to brush your fingers through the back of your head. Being pressed against the bathroom stall with your hair constantly rubbing against it through Jungkook bouncing you on his dick hasn't been benevolent to your hair.

While strolling towards you Jungkook gives your butt a playful smack before pecking your cheek.

,,We should probably leave before someone comes in," you say, looking at him through the mirror. His cheeks are painted in a slight flush, the sparks of his high still depicted on his face. It's adorable.

Jungkook nods, though he's making no effort in actually carrying it out.

,,Want some chapstick?" he asks, pulling out a strawberry flavoured.

You turn your head to him and he finely coats your lips in a thin layer of chapstick. Watching him being so concentrated at his task makes you nearly coo and smooch his nose.

After putting some of the chapstick on his lips too he throws his bag over his shoulder.

,,Ready to go?"

,,Shouldn't we leave separately? I don't want anyone to see us coming out of the restroom together," you answer.

,,Nah, we should be fine. There's no one out there."

But oh boy, how wrong he was.

As soon as Jungkook opens the door, both your hands intertwined, you are surprised by flashing lights and a horde of people standing - waiting - all around the entrance of the men's restroom.

Escaping the blinding light by hiding behind Jungkook you screw your eyes shut. The distinct sounds of people taking countless of pictures of you get muted once Jungkook awakens from his shock-induced paralysis and shuts the door close.

,,Shit," he curses under his breath.

You're shocked. Unable to say anything.

,,D-did they-" You point at yourself, mouth hanging open.

,,They...saw you too, yes." He talks slow, like he also can't grasp what just happened.

The way he torn up the door and practically presented you two to the whole mob of people standing outside could be comical if it wasn't for the burden you know will follow after this event.

,,Wait, do I still look freshly fucked?" you say, disquietingly brushing your fingers through your hair as you look into the mirror next to you.

,,I mean, what else is there to assume if we both come out of an empty bathroom?"

,,Oh, you're...right..." The position you're both in is way too suspicious, you come to realise. Puffing, you turn to him, scanning his face for help or advice for what you should do now.

,,I have a plan."

You perk at that. Brows lifted and await his explanation.

Jungkook holds out his hand for you.

,,Let's run."

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

Hmmmmmmm

I've been thinking about Aleuthera more than usual recently...

I'm not sure why exactly I'm thinking about it more frequently, but I always welcome the little nuggets of gold that I scratch out every once in a while to add to the lore of my world 😌

Imagine you're at the beach and you're enjoying walking across the shells and pebbles and sand when a glint of green sea glass catches your eye. You dig it out of the damp sand, rinse it off in the waves and gently put it in your pocket. You think about where you're going to place it when you get home, polishing it all the while until it's sparkling.

You choose the perfect spot in the one of the mosaic walls of your house, slotting it next to a similar, equally beautiful piece of glass and carefully grouting it into its new home. The colours are slightly different, and your new piece is a little smaller than its neighbour which is a little disappointing, but it fits, nonetheless.

You step back and look at the wall, suddenly realising that the size and colour of this piece doesn't matter all that much, because it's all art, and it's all special because you found it.

You made it and cared for it and built it up to what it is now, and that's what makes it special.

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature what's that sound? Ah yes, it's the sound of Luca seething about his stupid mistakes...it's bliss😌🥰.

I was there enjoying Luca getting told of by his mum for the billionth time 😂. I loved the scene you set with the descriptions of him sat chewing his tooth pick among the destruction he'd caused.

We’ll get her back.” “No, you won’t. Thomas isn’t going to let her out of his sight now.”But why is he still not listening? Hasn't he learnt his lesson yet? Listen to ya mama you fool! He's so smug to think he'll ever get that chance again. Mrs Changretta was right, if he wanted to cause unimaginable pain to Tommy, he should have taken Lucy out straight away. Good thing he's an idiot and didn't listen, because I can't have Lucy leaving Tommy alone in the world. I don't even want to imagine the depths of despair he'd reach if that ever happened 😭.

Ok, my weakness will always be seeing Tommy completely broken, but it's also animals. Asher's reaction to seeing Lucy was...💔. The fur baby just wanted to cuddle up to his mum and make her feel better, but I fear that even his body against hers would be enough to cause poor Lucy excruciating pain.

You really captured Tommy's heartache during this scene we've these little lines... Ada rested a hand on his upper arm while he bowed his head. “I don’t know what kind of permanent damage that might’ve done.”-"she looked at his hand still clasped tightly in Lucy’s. It's like the life's being sucked out of him as he watches Lucy sleep, he can't bare it 😔.

“I can’t stay here.” I can’t watch you love someone else. Oh Lizzie, would you please shut the fuck up. I don't care if she didn't say it, she thought it. Which means, she still doesn't give a shit about everything that's happend and is STILL thinking about herself. Please, can she stay in that little house so we never have to deal with her snotty remarks again??

I don't think I was quite prepared to see Lucy so weak, so fragile and scared in the next scene. I've seen glimpses of her doubtung herself, battling with her lack in confidence, but the following scenes were she's zoning in and out, thrashing half asleep during her nightmares was unbearable to see 😔.

“What use am I to you now?” she forced herself to ask in a hoarse whisper. Tommy’s eyes widened, scooting closer to her. I'm seriously so dumb that I didn't realise how being in that position for multiple days on end would effect the nerves in your arms. This honestly scared me for Lucy, not because I don't think she'll be able to maybe recover but because of what it will do to her already fragile mind. She's always someone that needs to have something to do, and this is only going to create more unease in her that she's no longer useful to Tommy, no matter what he says.

But he's right, she's more than an assassin. She has an incredibly sharp mind. I think it will take her time to realise that she might not be able to do the things she once could if it comes to that.

The part where she had her nightmare and how Tommy grounded her was so powerful to read, I loved every second of it. It's a tip I've used during my own panic attacks, I wouldn't be surprised if it's something Tommy has learnt to do over the years when his own anxiety and PTSD takes a turn.

You’re a good nurse.”- His chest buzzed pleasantly against her ear with a quiet chuckle. “You’re high as a kite, love.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go back to sleep.” ❤️ aww, I couldn't help but smile at this little part. Even though she may have been up with the fairies, I really think Tommy needed that playful normality from her before he too lost it to the horrors of Lucy's physical and mental state.

He had hardly left her side for the last week. Even getting him to let her use to loo on her own had taken a significant amount of convincing. Stop 😭! I knew he'd be velcroed to her 🥰.

Tommy's care and affection towards her is top tier right now👌🏼. He's so mindful about everything ❤️. But this scene is at the boxing match....which means, shits about to hit the fan...again 😳😬. And it also means that Tommy's attentions are gonna be drawn to Arthur and what's about to happen to him. She better not be left alone, not for one second!

Excited to see what happens, and see how Lucy continues to recover from everything. Eek 😍!

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Lucy begins the long recovery from what Luca did to her, while the Shelbys prepare for Bonnie's boxing match.

Word Count: 5,254

Notes: Warnings for depictions of PTSD, injuries, chronic pain, and references to torture.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 26: Lost Forever

Audrey entered Luca’s room to find it in complete disarray. The papers that he kept spread across his desk were all over the floor, chairs and tables overturned in the sitting room, a lamp smashed on the thin rug, along with the shattered remains of crystal glasses and a decanter filled with amber liquid.  

Her eyes swept over the scene of destruction, lips pursing. 

When Matteo came to her lodgings, eyes wide and begging her to please come at once, she had almost sent him away. She probably would have, had it been anyone else asking for her help. She was the matriarch of the Changretta family, and she answered the summons of no one. 

“Luca,” she said, stepping deeper into the room, towards where he was seated on the couch, staring straight ahead, gnawing so hard on the toothpick wedged between his teeth that she thought he might splinter it in half. Glass crunched under her heels.

She lowered herself into the seat beside him, keeping her back straight, watching her son scrutinizingly. 

“What happened?”

He didn’t answer her, and Audrey bristled. 

“When your mother asks a question, you answer it, Luca.”

“She got away,” he growled, eyes still staring straight ahead. “She fucking got away.”

“Who?”

“The Red Demon. Lucy Winters.”

Audrey felt her stomach fall into her toes, though she did not let it show on her face. “How?”

Luca shook his head. “Shelby found her, we think. The fucking gardener was found this morning, laid out on the doorstep of one of our old businesses, with his throat cut and his eyes torn out.”

“The gardener talked? But I thought you had men protecting him…”

“Yeah. Two men who we can’t locate. They were last seen at a pub with Smith. They were probably drunk when the Peakys arrived. Didn’t stand a fucking chance. Not that anyone who was at the pub that night will tell us anything.”

Audrey cursed in Italian under her breath. “But you left guards with Winters.”

“They’re all dead.”

“All of them?”

“Yes. Shelby must have killed them all.”

“Or she did.”

Luca finally looked at her. “She was barely able to stay conscious when I left her. She’s cut up and beaten within an inch of her life. There’s no way that she–”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop underestimating her before you listen to me!?” With a sharp, controlled movement, she cuffed him around the back of the head like she used to when he was small. “If any of your men gave her so much as a sliver of an opportunity, I promise you that she took it.”

“And killed all of them?”

She looked around the room, a casualty of Luca’s wrath undoubtedly after he learned the news of Winters’s escape. Her mind wound back to when Lucy Winters first arrived in Small Heath. The stories that had soon began to follow her. “She’s done it before.” She turned her gaze back onto her son. “You should have just killed her when you had the chance.”

“We’ll get her back.”

“No, you won’t. Thomas isn’t going to let her out of his sight now.” Frustration mounted in her veins, making itself known through a venomous look thrown Luca’s way, shaking her head. “You had the opportunity of a lifetime. You had her in your clutches. Do you understand how profound of an effect her death would have had on Thomas? They say he went half mad with grief over his wife’s death. What do you think killing Winters would have done to him? It would have crippled him. Or we could have used her as a bargaining tool. Or bait. Something.” She stood, towering over him, her disappointment mounting with every passing moment. How could he have been so stupid!? “And you just wanted to play out some silly little revenge fantasy. Instead of actually using your victory to your advantage. Your father and I taught you better than that.”

“Isn’t that what this all is? Revenge, mother? I was paying her back for all the pain she’s caused. She was there when they tortured my father. She’s already killed more than a handful of our men. She deserved to know what it felt like. Besides, she’s not going to be much use to Shelby at all with how badly injured she is.”

Audrey shook her head. No use. He really thought that the woman who likely kept Thomas Shelby standing upright with her mere presence was of no use to him. “You have not listened to a single word that I’ve said, have you?”

Luca looked up at her, hurt cracking across his eyes. “I’ve done everything that you’ve told me to do.”

Head shaking back and forth, she went to the door.

“There’s the boxing match next week. We’ll strike a blow, then,” Luca called after her. 

“Better pray it’s a big one, then. Because you’re running out of time.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Lizzie pushed the door to the bedroom open with her fingertips, peering in to find Lucy asleep, curled on her side in bed, a quilt pulled up over her chest, bandages wrapped around what looked to be most of her body. Tommy was hunched over in a chair at her bedside, Lucy’s hand in his. Ada was standing next to him, her hand on his shoulder while she looked down at Lucy’s sleeping figure. 

“How is she?” she asked. Tommy cleared his throat, wetting his lips. 

“Her back is…shredded. He whipped her,” Lizzie saw his hand tighten where it rested against his knee. “He reopened all her scars from…” he paused as if unable to bring himself to actually say it out loud, “from what happened to her in London before she came to us.”

“Jesus,” Ada breathed, a hand going to her lips. 

“She took a bullet to her shoulder. I removed it. Cleaned and stitched her up. Gave her something for the pain and to help her sleep.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “She said that he bound her from the ceiling so that she was dangling with her arms above her head for days. I don’t…” he had to pause to get his voice under control. Ada rested a hand on his upper arm while he bowed his head. “I don’t know what kind of permanent damage that might’ve done.” 

“But she’s alive.”

“Yes,” he agreed, though there was something in his voice that seemed to indicate that he wasn’t wholly confident in that statement. 

“I’ll take Charlie for a few nights. He shouldn’t see her like this.”

“Thank you.” 

“And Polly and Arthur will deal with everything else for the time being. You don’t need to worry about it. There’s still Bonnie’s boxing match with Alfie’s boy, but…”

“Someone needs to call Alfie and tell him we found her.”

“Already done. He said to tell you that he’ll deal with the last few arrangements that need to be made for the fight.”

“Right.”

“Doctor Evans will be here within an hour.”

“Good.” Lizzie wondered if the doctor was going to be in for a good scolding for not coming right as soon as he was called.

There was the clack of nails against the hardwood floor in the hallway, and then Asher was squeezing around Lizzie’s legs, nosing open the slightly ajar door to wander into the bedroom. Bypassing both Tommy and Ada, he raised his head to sniff at Lucy’s face. His tail drooped, ears falling downwards as a small whine left his throat. Tommy reached out to stroke the dog’s back. 

“I know, boy. I know. She’s okay.”

Asher looked back at him, then to Lucy, whining again. Tommy drew him away gently.

“Let her sleep, Ash.”

The black shepherd let out another soft whine, laying down next to the bed with his head on his paws, his dark brown eyes fixed dutifully on Lucy, watching over her protectively.

“Do you need anything else?” Ada asked, hand smoothing up and down Tommy’s back.

“No.”

“Call me if you do. I’ll gather up Charlie and head home. I think Polly was planning on sleeping over in one of the spare rooms.” She stood. 

“Ada,” he called, mindful to still keep his voice quiet enough that he would not wake Lucy. She turned back to him. “Thank you.”

She gave him a tiny small and a quick nod, before going to the door. Her grave gaze met Lizzie’s, reaching out only to give her a squeeze to the arm before heading to the stairs, leaving her standing in the doorway alone. 

Hands ringing together, Lizzie turned back to the bedroom, taking a cautious step forward into the room. 

“Tommy?”

He started at the sound of her voice, head raising. His eyes looked red rimmed and tired. “What?”

She ignored the bite of hurt at his sharp tone, reminding herself that he’d had more than a trying couple of days. “I’m going to go home.” 

His gaze sharpened. “Luca knows where you live.”

“I know, but I don’t think he’ll come after me right now. And…” she looked at his hand still clasped tightly in Lucy’s. Her heart twisted and fractured in her chest. “I can’t stay here.” I can’t watch you love someone else.

Tommy’s eyes searched hers, and she swore that she saw a spark of guilt as he read what was likely obvious in her gaze. “Does your house have a spare room?”

Her annoyance flared. “You’d know if you actually came to visit.”

Tommy looked away, jaw tightening. She took a deep breath.

“Yes, it does.” Her voice was softer.

“Skudboat will be sleeping there until the vendetta is over. And I’ll have multiple armed guards watching the house at all times. Isiah will be re-vetting all of your staff too, before they come back to work.”

“Fine.”

“All right, then.”

That was clearly her cue to leave, but she hesitated, gaze shifting to the tiny figure curled up on the bed. “Is she going to be okay?” she asked, voice hardly a whisper. Tommy’s shoulders heaved, and for a second she thought that he wouldn’t answer. 

“No. No, she won’t.” His voice was low and mournful, as if she had died and was gone forever rather than asleep right in front of him. A shiver went down Lizzie’s spine, looking in slight alarm at the woman who’d caused her so much emotional turmoil. 

Three days of brutal torture. That was enough to leave anyone scarred in and out for life. She wondered in what ways Lucy would be changed after this.

Chilled by the thought, Lizzie quickly made for the door.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Lucy.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on the mattress on either side of her, eyes staring blankly at a spot on the floor. Tommy pushed the bedroom door closed with a click behind Doctor Evans, leaving Polly to escort him out while he came to sit down beside her. 

“Sweetheart?”

A choked off sob left her lips, hand flying to her mouth a second too late to try to contain it. 

“Hey,” he wrapped his arm around her carefully, pulling her into his side. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head furiously from side to side, turning her face to bury in his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Doctor Evans said that all those cuts will heal…”

Yes, to leave disgusting, raised scars in their wake. 

But that wasn’t even what was really bothering her. 

“My-my shoulders…” she managed to whimper out, and she felt Tommy tense a little against her. 

“He said with time and the right exercises, you might be able to minimize the long-term damage done to them…”

She shook her head. She’d seen the look in Doctor Evans’s eyes, same as he had. That much time spent with her arms positioned over her head, with her entire body weight dangling from them, had likely done catastrophic damage to the nerves. And yes, he may have given her a set of exercises and stretches to do once the inflammation went down and her cuts healed enough that she wouldn’t risk reopening them, but she had seen it in his face. It would never be the same again. Her range of motion in them would be permanently impacted, and she’d likely have pains in them for the remainder of her life. 

“I can’t…I might not be able to…” Why couldn’t she just get the bloody words out? Was she really so useless now that she couldn’t even speak? “What use am I to you now?” she forced herself to ask in a hoarse whisper. Tommy’s eyes widened, scooting closer to her.

“What do you mean?”

Her mind tumbled over itself with all the potential implications that her injuries could have. “What if I can’t fight anymore? Or the pain gets so bad I can barely function? What if I can’t do my job? Or…or…or…” her chest started to spasm, cinching hard and closing off her ability to speak, sobs and harsh gasps rattling in her lungs. 

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy…” Tommy gathered her up in her arms, pulling her in close to his chest. “Shh,” he started to rock her from side to side, hand cradling the back of her skull protectively. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” There was so much confidence in his voice that she was in danger of actually believing him. “I’ll take care of you. If you need physical accommodations for anything, we’ll sort them out, all right?”

“But–”

“Love, you’re useful for far more than just swinging fists.” Tommy tried to reassure, leaning back to smooth away her tears with his thumbs, cradling her face in his big palms. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. There’s nothing that could ever make me toss you aside, okay?” His lips brushed against her forehead. “All you need to focus on is healing and resting, eh?”

She swallowed, nodding shakily, taking a deep breath to try to steady herself. Gaze fixing with Tommy’s, she let the deep blue of his eyes ground her, reminding her that she was safe and looked after. Tommy gave her a small, reassuring smile. 

“Good girl. C’mere.” He guided her gently into laying back down on the bed on her side, and she felt a pulse of fondness at the way he immediately began fussing over her. Fluffing her pillow and pulling the blankets up to her chin. “What do you need? Are you hungry? I think Ada or Polly made soup, if you want some.” He stood at her bedside, ready to jump at any request she might give him. 

“Could you just come lay with me for a bit?”

His eyes softened, nodding and climbing in under the blankets next to her. He rested his arm lightly around her waist, taking care not to touch her back or jostle her bandages.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, cheeks warming at her little meltdown and how frantic and irrational she probably had seemed.

“Oh, sweetheart, no. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”  

Resting her hand on his forearm, Lucy rubbed her thumb back and forth against the soft material of his undershirt. He had changed into just a white Henley identical to the one he gave her to pull over her bandages, and a pair of trousers.

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t find you sooner,” he said, thumb stroking her cheekbone. 

She shook her head. “I know that you did the best you could.” Adjusting herself, she stifled a wince at accidentally placing too much pressure on her bruised ribs. There wasn’t really any part of her that she could lay on without any discomfort, but being on her side was significantly better than being on her back. “How did you find me?”

“Our boys found Lizzie’s gardener who sold you out. His name was Paul Smith. Xavier Smith’s father. You remember Xavier Smith, right?”

Ah, that explained why the old man gave her up, then. “Yes.”

“I got him to talk.”

“How?”

He looked down. She inched her face closer to his in encouragement, until their noses almost brushed. 

“I pulled out both his eyes.” The way that he looked at her suggested that he expected her to recoil in horror, but she did no such thing, hardly even blinking at the revelation.  

“Is he still alive?”

A tiny, half sheepish smile crossed Tommy’s lips. “No. Not unless he can live with his head nearly sawed off.”

“You did that for me?” she asked, eyes wide.  

“Of course,” Tommy said, as if there had never been any question in his mind that he would. “I had to find you.”

She put her head on his chest, weak arms looping around his middle. He rested his palms on her gingerly, careful not to pull at her bandages when he held her.

“Try to get some more rest.”

“When’s the fight between Bonnie and Goliath?”

“In a week.”

“I want to come.”

He drew back to look at her worriedly. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“I’m sure. I…” biting her lip, she glanced towards the window, then back at him. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

He looked her up and down. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” she put her head on his chest, blinking slowly as exhaustion took hold of her once more. Tommy’s hand continued to pet at her hair. 

“Get some sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And he was, when she woke but only a few short hours later, screaming. 

Her brain was fogged over with panic, hands scratching and scrabbling, legs kicking to try to fight off the monsters that moments ago she had been certain were surrounding her.

“Lucy! Lucy!” 

Her eyes darted around the room madly, searching for any signs of Luca looming in the dark corners, wicked grin pulling at the corners of his lips as he prepared to elicit more pain onto her.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.”

A hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and she thrashed violently, crying out, swatting with flailing hands. 

“Get off of me!” she screamed, trying to scramble away. He was here. He was here and he was going to hurt her again unless she managed to get away…

“Lucy.” Two strong arms wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, keeping her from rolling away. She tried to kick out, one foot colliding hard with the wall to her left with a bang. “It’s me. It’s me. Come here. Come here.”

Her breaths were coming out in fast, frantic little bursts, eyes bulging in their sockets. 

“Deep breaths,” the voice behind her commanded, and she felt a stockily built chest rise as its owner’s lungs filled with oxygen, then slowly lower as he let the breath out. “Match my breathing, come on.”

Her mind finally managed to catch up with what was going on around her, or at least enough that she was able to recognize that the voice rumbling her ear very much was not the hissing murmur that belonged to Luca Changretta. 

Her lungs stuttered, then almost unconsciously started to match the deep rise and falls of Tommy’s chest against her. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, at her growing still. “Do you see the pictures on the wall?”

She had to squint to make them out in the darkness, but across from the bed she found the painting of a horse standing in a forest, the leaves changing colors with the seasons and fluttering to the grass that the mare was grazing upon in a layer of reds, oranges, and yellows.

Tommy’s cheek was resting against hers, his breath warm against her ear. She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest when he spoke again. 

“The items on the nightstand?”

Her gaze cast over. To the little lamp. A half filled glass of whiskey. An ashtray dusted with black ash, with too many cigarette butts to count smashed in its center.

“Uh huh.”

“He doesn’t have you anymore.” She felt Tommy relax as he felt the tension in her start to slip away. “You’re safe,” his lips just barely ghosted across her temple. “You’re safe, Lucy. There you go.” 

Certain that she was actually lucid and calmed, he loosened his grip on her, pulling away slightly to flick on the lamp, washing the entire room in its dull, golden glow. Lucy cringed and squinted at the sudden change in brightness. 

Sinking down into the mattress, she drew her arms up to her chest, tremors starting to wrack through her body, eyes welling with tears. Her back connected with the bed, and she sharply jerked away from it with a yelp. 

Whether it was that action that caused the following hurricane of pain, or just what drew her mind’s attention to it, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t entirely matter, the result was the same. She was suddenly deeply aware of just how much everything hurt.                 

It was howling within her, her wounds screaming and muscles aching. Her back once more felt as though it had been set ablaze. Her split skin throbbed. Her shoulders hurt so badly it sent sparks of white flaring across her eyes. 

A sob left her lips, twitching as though she might be able to wriggle away from the pain. But moving only made everything worse. 

“Luce?” And then Tommy was there, leaning over her with wide, worried eyes. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

“H-hurts…” she barely could get the word out, but it was enough. Tommy shot up, reaching for the nightstand, pulling from the drawer the bottle of morphine that the doctor had left for her, along with a prescription for more if she needed it. He snatched up the glass of whiskey, downing the remaining of the amber liquid, then pouring a small amount of her medicine into the glass. 

“Drink this,” he held it to her lips. The morphine was cold as it touched her tongue and slid down her throat. “Come here,” setting the glass aside, he reached out for her, smoothing his hand along the side of her face. “Look at me. Focus on my voice. Just give it a few minutes love, hm? You’ll be okay.”

Just as he said, it took only a few minutes, and the pain was dulled, her eyes starting to feel heavy again. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, sniffing. Tommy shook his head. 

“It’s okay.”

With a sigh, she let her head rest on his chest. “‘M a fucking mess,” she lamented sorrowfully. 

“No, honey. No, you’re not. You’re just recovering. It’s alright. I gotcha.” He put his arms around her. “Light on or off?”

“Off.” It was too bright with it on. She felt his muscles flex against her as he reached over to flick it off. “You’re a good nurse.”

His chest buzzed pleasantly against her ear with a quiet chuckle. “You’re high as a kite, love.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to stay.” She desperately wanted him to, but she didn’t want him to feel like he had to continue to stick around and gather up the pieces every time she fell apart. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d be waking up screaming and thrashing from nightmares probably for the foreseeable future. He was probably exhausted. He needed to rest too. “I’ll probably keep waking you up…”

“Good.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “I want you to wake me up every time that you need something.”

Her lips pouted with the desire to cry again at how nice he was being towards her. She stroked her fingers lazily across his chest, feeling how warm and strong he was; reassuring herself that she was probably as safe as was realistically possible when in the circle of his arms. 

His fingers curled under her chin, tilting her face up to look into his. “I love you, Lucy,” he kissed her softly, lips soft as a pillow against hers. Tears filled her eyes.

“I love you too.”

He smiled at her gently, placing another kiss between her brows. “Sleep,” he said, and encouraged her to snuggle back down into his chest. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy stared at her reflection in the mirror in the washroom, hands gripping either side of the sink’s basin, knuckles white, lip caught between her teeth. Glassy, dead green eyes looked back at her, their judgment harsh and sharp. 

God, she looked fucking awful.

The bruises on her face had faded into unflattering shades of purple, green, and yellow. Her skin was sickly, eyes bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles.

And that wasn’t even taking into account the rest of her. She looked like she had been patchworked back together, like a blanket with dozens of holes in it that had been mended with other various scraps of fabric. Or maybe like a crude attempt at dressing up like Frankenstein’s monster. 

She knew that the other women–Polly, Ada, Linda, and Lizzie–had all planned to get dolled up in elegant, beaded dresses and expensive jewels and furs for the occasion of Bonnie’s boxing match. There was no way that she could go out like that. The best she would be able to do was dress in layers that would prevent her bandages from getting disturbed too much, and hope that she could hide most of the bruises on her face with makeup. 

Tugging at the white button down and trousers she had already pulled on earlier with Tommy’s help, she frowned, pulling her belt a few notches tighter to cinch more securely around her waist. After three days of being fed only tiny scraps of bread, she had lost weight. Also probably not helped by the fact that she’d barely had the appetite to eat anything save for small servings of chicken noodle soup for most of the past week.  

Leaning closer to the mirror, she dabbed a little more makeup over a bruise on her cheekbone, trying hard not to wince at the way that the movement pulled tightly at her shoulders. 

She did not realize just how much she raised her arms up over her head until she was practically unable to. She couldn’t even grab her favorite mug from the cupboard because it was on a high shelf.                  

A soft knock sounded at the door. “You okay in there, love?” Tommy’s voice called. Lucy sighed, rubbing at her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Be out in a second.”

He had hardly left her side for the last week. Even getting him to let her use to loo on her own had taken a significant amount of convincing. But she appreciated the worry. Frankly the idea of not being close to him was enough to have her teetering on the edge of a panic attack. 

Wiping her hands on a towel, she looked herself up and down one last time in the mirror, sighing and determining that this was probably about as good as she was going to be able to manage at the moment. 

When she stepped out into the hall, it was to find Tommy leaning against the opposite wall, turning a cigarette over and over between his fingers anxiously. He straightened when he saw her, wedging the cigarette between his lips and holding out a hand to help usher her back into the bedroom. 

Her fingers fiddled together as she stepped towards the bed, picking up her waistcoat and shoving her arms through the holes, thankful that it buttoned in the front so she wouldn’t have to raise her arms to get it on. Tommy approached her, reaching out to do up the buttons for her, then helping her into her matching suit jacket and coat. 

It felt strange to be in her normal clothes after over a week spent in bed in little more than one of Tommy’s shirts. Not exactly a bad strange, though. It would probably do her good to return to a routine.

Tommy smiled down at her, brushing a fallen curl back behind her ear. “Ready?”

“I look like shit.”

His brows pulled together, thrusting out a hand for her to take so he could draw her closer to him, head angling down to kiss her. “You look beautiful. C’mon.”

His fingers squeezed around hers as he led the way down the stairs and to the door. The fresh air, no matter how smoky, felt good on her cheeks after so many days spent cooped up inside. 

“You know, you don’t have to come if you aren’t feeling up to it. I’m sure Ada would be happy to stay with you,” Tommy said as they walked. His gait was noticeably slower than usual, to make sure that she wouldn’t struggle to keep up. 

Lucy shook her head. The idea of not being with him left her feeling panicky. 

“I want to stay with you.”

“Okay,” he didn’t question her. “But you let me know if you’re in pain. Or if you need to go home.”

“Okay.”

Once they got to the boxing ring, she stood at his side, keeping her cap on despite them being indoors, her head angled down to let the shadows it cast partially hide the bruises on her face. Her arms looped through his, hoping that it looked more like she was just lingering close to him as she so often did, and not because she needed to lean on him for stability. The shouts of men and the crush of bodies crowded together seemed louder and more overwhelming than usual. But that may have been because she was pretty sure that if someone jostled into her too hard, she would tip over.

Just before the first round started, Tommy drew her away, his grip firm to help support her as they weaved through the tight maze of hallways that made up the backrooms.

“I thought it would be good for us to sit somewhere quiet for a minute,” he explained, guiding her to a bench in one of the locker rooms. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” she took the cigarette that he offered her, leaning into his side when he sat down beside her. He gingerly wrapped his arm around her, resting the side of his head against her hair. 

Her physical ailments aside, what unnerved her the most was her mind. That feeling of numbness and desolation that had overtaken her the day that Tommy brought her home had not abated. Had not even eased at all, really. 

Was this what her mind was to be like, now? Aching and constantly overstimulated? Both simultaneously feeling everything and nothing? 

She did not want to live like that.

“Lucy?” Tommy asked, thumb stroking her shoulder through the material of her coat.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she blurted out. It really meant a lot; she knew that she wasn’t particularly fun to be around right now, and with the thousands of other things he had to worry about, that he’d chosen to prioritize her was no small thing.

“Love, you don’t have to thank me for that. It’s what we do.”

She allowed herself a small smile at that, despite the unending anxiety that plagued her; that feeling that there was yet another piece of her that had died in that church. A part of her that was lost forever. 

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[drabbles-mc]

failed to read this as a bedtime story. instead im reading it in the middle of the workday because no one can stop me 😌

Sorta feels like you’re just a part of it, part of him, part of the day and the routine <- oh. okay. so you're just.....you're gonna have me yearning in the middle of the afternoon like this??? fuck off affectionate

And you gotta say, those one’s are nice ones, cause it lets you shut everything off, which you figure is the same thing he likes about it.  <- big fan of the fact that these two are carting around emotional baggage that would need to be checked at the airport and they just aren't saying anything about it sksks honestly??? same

sits on the step when you got a perfectly good bench on the porch <- obsessed with this detail. would love to elaborate but im afraid the language in my head cannot be translated to english

you watch him ride off like he’s already got you down with a mortgage and a ring and everything else <- i adore this because idkidkidk it feels so real. like getting out of a serious longterm relationship (this man had a whole marriage) and going back to casual dating has to be such a strange transition. like you forget how it goes. how do you do casual after you built an entire life with someone?????? johnny sure as fuck doesn't know!!! so he's just gonna keep acting like a whole husband

“Well, they’re wrong, alright? S’not like that for me.” <- oh 🥹

Cause that would tire him out, no matter how flattering he’s trying to be. <- damn. mothers really do be like that huh? 😅

Mrs Saccone don’t even bother knocking no more <- SKSKSK not the nosey neighbor accepting defeat!!!! i adore her

Before you got the hang of it, he said he was always thinking you might come flying off one day, right up over his shoulder onto the concrete <- JOHNATHAN DAVIS 😂 you can't just go SAYING THAT to people 😂 sksks i love him. i hear it so clearly. i'm crying laughing he's just sooooooo!!!!!

cause no matter how he tries to fix his face, it never looks right <- i know exactly what they mean by this but it still sounds like a lowkey roast and it's making me giggle skskks

But sometimes how it is and how it should be aren’t really working out, you know, and today you’re feeling like reminding him of that. <- reader stays spitting facts and i love them for it. this is the typa person johnny needs in his life. little shots of cold water to remind him of what's what

“Oh, like you and Brucie are running some big scary gang or something. Come on, Johnny.” <- pffftttt no but they're so so right. Johnny at least cuts an intimidating image. but Brucie??? sweet lil Brucie with the gorgeous wife????? stoppit right now sksk

“What? I need to buy a leather jacket first?” <- every few lines i've said it and every few lines i'll say it again: i love them so much!!!! if johnny isn't gonna swoop them up EYE will

omg i'm gobbling every word of this Reader Lore

“I’m thinkin, you’re gonna take a look at one of those guys and realise you picked the wrong one,” <- JOHNNY?????????????????? SHUT YOUR MOUTH RIGHT NOW???????? bro the way i lost my eyebrows in my hairline at this. i cant. i dont even know the words to say about it.

Benny. Benjamin. his presence looms over the narrative always

In a kind that has that little bike stand screaming for help kinda way. <- ohhhhh 😏

On the way home, he’s even telling you which ones of them you’ll like, which ones you’ll not like so much, and which ones you don’t need to bother getting to know at all—and you figure that means they’re a real extreme version of one of those other two categories, so you listen real close to that part. <- okay but i want the entire venn diagram laid out in my dms asap thank you very much. im obsessed i need to know the ins and outs of the categories

GODDDDD I LOVE THEMMMMMMMMM i'm kicking my feet and giggling and spinning around in my office chair

white room - pt.4

johnny davis x gn!reader, 18+, canon typical themes and language, 3.9k words, 4 of ? ao3 link | previous part a/n: thankyou for all the comments so far, it's really keeping this whole thing alive <3 <3 (gif credit to @hausofmamadas ! )

After that, the dates don’t feel like dates no more. Sorta feels like you’re just a part of it, part of him, part of the day and the routine, you know? Which you like as much as you don’t, cause seeing him so much is real nice—and it’s nearly every day sometimes. But you’d still like to go out and do things together too, nice things, the way people do when they’re still trying to win each other. 

How it’s working now, is Johnny’ll show up some time—meaning after work, or after dinner, or after it’s gone dark and you shouldn’t be accepting visitors at all, but you do, cause it’s only him, you know—without the least bit of warning, and he’ll ask if you wanna go someplace. And someplace is either that bar you and him have sorta made into your bar, from that one night that time, or sometimes someplace is everyplace, cause he likes just riding round with you. Likes cutting through the night with you on the back. And you gotta say, those one’s are nice ones, cause it lets you shut everything off, which you figure is the same thing he likes about it.  

But if you’re really honest, most times, you don’t even get off the front porch.

He comes over just to sit right there with you, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he pays part of the upkeep or something. Some days it’s like maybe a few minutes, other days, it’s closer to a couple hours. Always with no requests, no offers, just, "You got a minute?" And you say, "yeah, for you I got ten," cause, well, you’re kinda starting to feel like need it. Like you’d sleep funny if you didn’t get to see him, even just for a little while. 

What you think it is, cause it happens so often, and real routine, you know, every Tuesday and Thursday and Sunday, you’re thinking he’s stopping by before going to one of them club meetings. Comes over just to see you, cause he knows he’s got no time for nothin else, so it’ll have to do. And believe it or not, sometimes he’s even got a couple of guys with him, but they carry on while he’s parking up, not waving bye to him or nothin, so it makes no difference really. 

Then Johnny gets off, and takes a coffee when you offer it to him, and sits on the step when you got a perfectly good bench on the porch, and you sit right there next to him. Just talking and stuff. Saying lots without really saying much; small talk that’s a little sweet and a little boring, too. How’s your day, you know, what you been up to.

Funny enough, more often than not, his days are just as boring as yours are. Just bikes and trucks and roads with nothing much else on them. Occasionally, he’ll have a little sort of gossip on someone, like Corky pissing Wahoo off about something, but by the time you see him next, they’ve already gone right back to being best buddies, and Johnny’s got nothin more to say about it. 

But you like to hear whatever he’s got to give, boring work stuff or not, cause then it means you’re even, you know? You can go on and on about the office and he’s got to mean it when he says he don’t mind hearing about it, cause you mean it when you say it back to him, right?

When he’s done talking, he sets the empty mug down and says, see ya, Lips, and then sometimes he kisses you, and sometimes he don’t, and you watch him ride off like he’s already got you down with a mortgage and a ring and everything else that would have a person waving him off like that. You don’t mind so much. About the kisses, or the little talks you guys have. It’s just like stopping for gas, you figure. He’s only there to fill himself up before he goes back into that wolf den, and if it’s you he’s filling up on, well, that’s more of a compliment than anything else he’s ever said to you. 

“You’ve got this thing,” he said one time, “this thing about you that makes me feel like I’ve slept a whole week just from being here.”

And you said, “That’s those new coffee beans I got,” pointing to the ‘I heart Chicago’ mug he was cradling. 

“I’m serious.”

But you were too. “No one’s ever thought I’m anything but real tiring,” you said.

“They tell you that?”

“In some way or another.”

“Well, they’re wrong, alright? S’not like that for me.”

Feels crazy to say so, but from the look of him when he arrives, and the look of him when he gets back on that bike to leave again, then sure, it really seems like he's telling the truth. You’re winning out over coffee and a night in bed, somehow.

Before you can even notice it, a whole month goes by, and it’s all cause of Johnny.

His little porch-side pit stops make one day go flying on into the next, and the next, and so on, and stuff. Then all of a sudden, you’re telling him about the signet ring that was your Pop's—so that’s why you wear it on your thumb like that—and telling him about the year you worked in Minnesota—cause that's where your grandparents lived—and you sort of do kinda tell him about Mom, but not really. Cause that would tire him out, no matter how flattering he’s trying to be. 

Somewhere in that month he starts saying things about his kids, and Betty too, that you never really thought he’d ever say to you—cause why would he, you know? There's somethings even you wouldn’t ask about. But he comes by so often, it ends up coming out of him in one conversation or another, and before you know, it’s been a while. A real note-worthy type of while. And Johnny Davis has kinda sorta become your Johnny, as much as you’ve become his, in a lazy porch step kind of way. And you feel like you know him almost. Like he’ll stick around, and you will too.

There he comes again now, see, turning down your street right as you put the coffee pot on. You don’t drink it after work, or ever really, but he does. For the meetings, like you said. So it works better to have it ready for him. Mrs Saccone don’t even bother knocking no more, cause his bike’s cutting up the quiet more often than it’s not, and you reckon she got all tired of lifting up the broom like that. Or she got over it, you know, like she realised he ain’t the trouble she thought he was.

Johnny says it’s cause he saw her once and said hello, all polite and charming, so now she likes him. Yeah. Sure, you said, couldn’t be that she’s eighty something, you know, and can only bang a broom on a wall so much. Plus, she don’t like anyone that ain’t related to her, but, eh, if Johnny wants to think he’s wooed her then it’s whatever. Both of them are fine about it, or at least not causing some sort of neighbourhood war for you, so who cares?

“Hey Johnny.” 

You’re already out waiting for him by the time he’s outside, cause you hear the engine long before you can see him, and he pulls up over the driveway that never gets any use no more. He don’t shut the bike off like he usually does, though. Just sits there with it running under him, feet flat either side of it. 

He nods at you greeting him, then says, “Wanna go for a ride?”

So it’s one of those days. A Wednesday, you remember. 

“Where to?”

He shrugs, and he looks real tired today, now that you’re looking at him proper. His eyebrows all low and lazy over his eyes. “Nowhere,” he says.

Well, that’s good enough for you. “Alright,” you tell him, “as long as nowhere leads somewhere that sells some bread. I’m all out.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Gimme a sec.”

These days, you’re on the back of that thing like you know how to drive one yourself. So quick and professional about it, Johnny don’t even have to help you up no more. Just trusts that you can climb on and off all by yourself, and that you know when to lean and squeeze your knees, and all that other riding stuff too. Which you figure must be nice for him now, cause it means he don’t gotta worry about anything other than the road. 

Before you got the hang of it, he said he was always thinking you might come flying off one day, right up over his shoulder onto the concrete. You told him, you never knew that was a thing that could happen in the first place, but it was too late to be nervous about it by then cause you were already used to it, you know? So he got lucky with that one. Any earlier and you’d’ve said you’re not going no where fuckin near that thing, whether he was romancing you, or not. 

Tonight, you’re going for miles before Johnny shows any real sign of stopping. All the way out of town, and then some, right into the crap that lies in the dirt between home and the next one over. When he does, the sun’s only barely clinging on over the top of the horizon, which must be why he’s picking now to pull over someplace, cause if he waits too long it’ll be dark, and cold. Though, you never notice the cold when you’re out riding no more, not like you did that first time, cause when you’re wrapped right up in the warm of him that’s all you can focus on. But he’s forgotten his gloves today, and his hands will sure complain about that once the sun's gone. 

He’s picked some little row of storefronts that you’ve never seen before, rolling into the lot with his bike in neutral. Not firing or purring or anything, just cruising in, real slow, with one hand on the bars and the other on his thigh. 

And you know why he’s done it, cause one of the storefronts has a big stack of grocery looking crates sitting outside of it, and everything else that might suggest it’s a place that’s selling bread, but you can tell it’s closed before he even puts the brakes on. Lights off, blinds down. You get off and have a look through the window just in case, like the guy might be in there behind the counter still, but nope. It’s as empty as it looks.

And when you go back to Johnny, he seems real sorry about it. Like he could’a known.

He’s got his bike parked up and quiet now. Got it standing slanted on that little stand that don’t look like it can really hold the weight of the thing, let alone that and Johnny, who’s leaning against the lean of it, too. Two big hunks of stuff on one little arm. 

“Guess I’m not taking lunch tomorrow,” you tell him. Which you regret as soon as you do, cause then he looks like he feels even worse about it, wincing a little, and you were only saying something just to say it.

“I might have some at my place,” he says, more like an apology than a real offer of anything. “I guess we could stop by on the way back.”

You wave him off. “Don’t worry about it.” 

There’s this sandwich place by your work, which you like more than any other sandwich place you’ve ever been to, and you never really have any excuse to go there, so in a way this is a blessing, you know. No bread, what a shame. Bologna and extra cheese please. 

“We gotta think of some other place to go now,” you say, messing with the loose thread in your jacket pockets, while Johnny messes with the cigarette he’s not bothering to light yet. 

Probably planned on smoking it while you were in there shopping. Now he’s just tapping the end of it on his thigh, then flicking it round, and tapping with that end too. Which is a little more fidgety than he usually is, now that you’re thinking about it. 

“Did something happen today?” you ask him, cause no matter how he tries to fix his face, it never looks right. Looks like his mind's somewhere three miles behind you in the road still, and with the tapping, and the tiredness. Yeah, you don’t need to be one of those brain doctor guys to work it out. You don’t even need to know him the way you do. Any Joe could look at him and think something was up, some way or another. 

“Something like what?” he says.

You wait some more. You’re not feeling like knocking around the bush about it.

“S’okay,” he goes on. “Just somethin’, some trouble the other day. Last week. Still sitting on my mind a little, is all.”

Which is a long time for anything to be sitting on it, and you saw him two days ago, but he looked fine and said nothin about it then. So he’s either lying, or real good at hiding things, until he can’t hide them no more. “Wanna talk about it?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Wanna talk about it in a way that’s not really talking about it?”

He puffs a big breath out of his nose, then his head goes back and away like you’re bothering him, or something. “Come on,” he says. “No is no, you know how it is.”

But sometimes how it is and how it should be aren’t really working out, you know, and today you’re feeling like reminding him of that.

You move forward until you’re standing right in front of him, and cause he’s sitting and leaning the way he is, that means he’s looking up at you now. And with his legs crossed at the ankles the way they are, they’re going straight between your knees like some big lazy bean pole. Which you figure puts him right where you want him.

“You know you don’t always have to keep me in one hand, and club stuff in the other,” you say. Which is what this is really all about, if he felt like saying so. “I can mix with anythin and anyone, Johnny.”

“I know that.” He rubs a palm down over his face, then shrugs and says, “But I don’t want you mixing with it.”

“Why not?”

“Cause it’s not—you don’t need all that.”

“I think I do.” Cause he is all of that, not just cause he’s club president, but because he’s Johnny, and the club, the guys, it’s all a part of him—and yeah, sure, you’re really starting to need him, alright, which means needing all of that, too. “I can handle it.”

His face pinches a little like he might’ve stood on something sharp. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Oh, like you and Brucie are running some big scary gang or something. Come on, Johnny.”

You’ve not met Brucie yet, not properly, but from what Johnny says, he’s as normal as anyone. An electrician that helps him count dues and wire up telephones. Johnny’s right hand and best friend, it’s cute, yeah, and no different from anyone else they run about with. Whatever he’s painting to try and scare you off, you’re not buying it. You might’ve in that pizza place that one time, but now? 

He sighs, looking even more tired than he was when you started pecking at him. “It’s not…it’s just things you got no interest in, you know. Stuff you don’t wanna waste your time on.”

“How’d you reach that conclusion?”

His chin flicks up. “Well, look at you."

And you do, you look down your front and your jeans and the boots you never wore until you started riding with him. “What? I need to buy a leather jacket first?”

When he laughs, you can tell that he wishes he didn’t, but he can’t help it as much as you can’t stop your mouth from saying the things it does sometimes. 

“You know, my mom’s on some crazy pilgrimage right now,” you say. 

Then Johnny does what anyone would do and says, “What?” like you started speaking a different language mid-sentence.

“Yeah, said she was going to San Francisco for a little while, to see some guy and learn some yoga, or something. But now she’s in Europe, trying to be one of them, I don’t know, sort of spiritual guide people, and going place to place looking for something she can’t even explain to me.” You clear your throat from the little frog in it. “Which isn’t the point,” you say.

His head shakes like he’s lost. “What is the point?” he asks, impatient in a kinda charming, sort of irritating way. 

“The point is, she’s a funny sort of person, and before she was doing all that, when I was a kid, you know, she was always moving us about and stuff. Always dragging me along with her when I was too small to be doing things like that.” You fold your arms and Johnny don’t say nothin, so you carry on a little. “We were going all over the country, near enough, and staying with all sorts of people that I never saw more than once.”

He frowns. “What for?”

“You’d have to ask her that yourself.” Cause you and her got a real sweet understanding lately, one that means you don’t ask her why, just as long as she don’t make you feel bad for not wanting to do what she wants anymore. Best sort of deal you two have ever come up with. “All I’m saying is, I saw some real weird shit before I even learned how to read eight letter words. And I bet you not one thing about that club of yours would surprise me. Or scare me, or whatever it is.”

He nods slow like he’s thinking about it. Which you figure is him being nice, cause he’s probably only nodding to buy him time to work out what to say when a person says something like that, admitting something personal that no-one likes hinting at, you know. Like Moms not being very good moms when they ought to have been. Like kids not getting to be kids, and stuff.

“See, I’m not worried about that part,” he says. 

Well. That sweeps you right off your feet almost, cause you figured that was his whole deal. “You’re not?”

One of his hand wanders up your leg til it’s sitting on your hip, with his thumb through the belt loop there. “I’m thinkin, you’re gonna take a look at one of those guys and realise you picked the wrong one,” he says. “Ugliest one you could’ve,” he says.

Which is a load of hot, steaming horse crap. So you laugh, and he’s looking at you that way he does when he gets you to throw your head back like that.

“Don’t do that when I’m being serious,” you tell him, trying to stop yourself from smiling, but not really stopping at all. 

“Who’s not being serious?”

“What is it really?”

“Just what I said,” he insists. But he’s smirking in his eyes so you know that he’s lying.

“Johnny,” you say.

“Benny,” he says back.

You stop. “What?”

“That’s what it is,” he says, “I don’t want you meeting him.”

Suddenly this guy's a real comic, who knew? You prod a finger into the meat of his shoulder, scoffing at him. “I took you for a lot of things, Johnny, but I never took you for a man who’s gonna worry about losing out to someone like that. Benny or no Benny.”

That hand on your hip squeezes you a little, and pulls you in closer than you already are. “Yeah?” he says, smiling cause you’re feeding his ego now, and you don’t mind one bit about doing it.

“None of those guys are even my sort,” you tell him. “Wouldn’t pay them no mind, even if you never existed.”

At that, he kisses you in a way that feels like a reward, though you can’t figure out which one of you’s is winning. It’s all short and sweet and soft against those lips of his, and just when you're thinking like he might take it somewhere further, cause his hand’s sliding round to the back of you, he pulls away and looks right into your eyes. And you’re so close together, you’re sorta going cross-eyed to look back at him. 

“You really wanna get involved?” he asks.

“Yeah, I really do.” 

“Even if it’s not pretty, or whatever?”

“Even if it’s the ugliest thing in the world,” you say. “M’tired of only getting half of you.” 

He nods, and it’s so slight you wouldn’t have even noticed if his chin didn’t budge against yours, stubble scratchy and forgiven for it. “Alright, then.” 

You lean back to put some air and sense between the two of you. “Really?

“If it’s what you want,” he says, like it was always that easy.

Yeah, it’s what you want, you tell him, in a sort of a way. In a kind that has that little bike stand screaming for help kinda way. Kissing him so much, he don’t know whether to push you back, or lie down on that seat and let it all happen. 

And then that’s that, you guess, flood gates lifted. You get to know about club stuff, as long as Johnny don’t mind you knowing, and he don’t seem so reluctant to have them meeting you no more. On the way home, he’s even telling you which ones of them you’ll like, which ones you’ll not like so much, and which ones you don’t need to bother getting to know at all—and you figure that means they’re a real extreme version of one of those other two categories, so you listen real close to that part. 

You don’t ever find out what was getting him looking tired that way, not really, but he does say they’re opening a new chapter now, after some debating about it. Which sounds like something that’d be a real headache to sort out, so you figure that must’a been it. 

It’s also how you find yourself invited to one of those picnics of theirs, whatever that means. The first one where this chapter and Milwaukee’s chapter are all getting together, a real big one, apparently. So naturally you says you wanna go and Johnny says alright. Alright, you know. 

Pick you up early next Saturday, he says, cause apparently you gotta ride for a while, and these things go from when the first bike arrives til the last one leaves again. Johnny’s gotta be there for all of it, of course—and you’ve just fixed yourself to the back of him like one of those old reliable saddlebags of his—so you gotta be there too. And, well, you’re really sort of excited about it.

~~~~~~~~~~

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