Modern!Johnny x jealous!reader
Modern!Johnny swears he doesn’t need his prescription glasses, but he still wears them when he’s working, hunched on a stool, adjusting the carburetor on Benny’s bike.
He’s alone with the radio in the workshop that day.
It’s no use pretending he can see the tiny letters you send him in texts that day. Johnny’s got to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a single index finger when they slip down.
Swears he’ll fix them so they hold better, but never finds the time.
Also swears he’ll ask you how to make the letters bigger, but doesn’t want you to think he’s that old. He doesn’t care much about a cellphone either, but he always hears your voice in the back of his mind asking him what he’d do in case of emergencies. And, of course, it’s more practical when a friend of his rings him. Or a customer, that is.
I hope she was nice enough to let you fondle her.
The dot is precisely what makes him think he fucked up somewhere, though he can’t remember for the love of God where. It’s how he learned to write when he was a kid, properly. But she doesn’t use periods. She once told him it makes her texts sound dry.
He doesn’t really get the logistics of it all.
Johnny mumbles an amused Jesus Christ and replies with a single questioning mark. The tiny line and dot are enough to translate his confusion, as he’s seen people do in TV shows.
Dropped by to eat lunch with you but the chick with the red coat had your attention.
Johnny spins around to glance out the open door, but of course, you’re already gone.
He’s not very quick when he types,
You talking about Penny? She just gave me her keys. Shes got an issue with her tires.
With a sigh, he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes.
He proceeds to focus on the bike in front of him, the object of his youth.
It takes her seven minutes to reply.
What else did she give you?
Johnny looks down at his phone and the wrench slips from his hand, clattering to the concrete. He should be annoyed, maybe a bit upset that you overreact and don’t believe him. But he secretly loves seeing you all worked up over him, so possessive. He, whose mother never truly cared.
The wrench lands among the other tools scattered over the ground.
He clicks on her profile without hesitation. It flashes with a picture of her he took a couple months ago.
His gallery mainly consists of pictures of engines, of black squares from his thumb clicking inadvertently, and of her. Eating, standing in her favorite dress, or through the fogged window mirror.
“Hello?”
She sounds like she forgot who he is.
“Come back,” he tells her, still glancing through the open garage door.
“Too late. I’m home.”
“Come eat lunch with me.”
“Is red coat invited?”
“C’mon, sweetheart.”
She takes a second to sigh. “She smiled when she stepped next to me, Johnny. Fucking smiled.”
“Ain’t my fault I’m a good guy, is it?”
“Yeah, alright,” she mumbles. “Next time I’ll let her grasp your ass so she can see how good you can be.”
“You’ll let her?”
As if she owned him.
“You’re mine, right?”
The cogs in his brain whir at half speed, but when they groan into place, he realizes she does own him. Body and soul.
His voice is suddenly strained when he asks her again to come back.
“I’m not hungry.”
When her phone speaker crackles, Johnny pictures her locking the front door while the wind flickers in her hair. She’d already planned on going back.
He’s too weak to laugh.
“Well, I am now,” he only mumbles back, staring at the front door.
He’s alone in the workshop, and yet he worries someone might eavesdrop. He’s never really done all the foreplay talk on the phone. Only once, on one of his business trips. But they’d kept it fairly light.
What was the point of teasing if he couldn’t get a real taste of the thing afterwards?
A low grunt leaves his lips as he bends down to pick up the wrench. She’s far too consuming to be just a side thought—which is why he ends up pacing at the door, waiting for her car to park at the front.
Finally, his eyes rise over the rim of his glasses, then fall down the length of her in a measured sweep. She’s a ray of sunshine through an open window, a cool breeze on a hot day, and she tells him to close the rolling door without waiting.
