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taintandviolent · 1 year

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And Where He Goes, I’ll Follow. (Jimmy Darling x Reader)

Summary: You meet Jimmy in a diner as a teenager in 1949, and it’s love at first sight... for you. You follow him until you can tell him how you feel.

warnings: 8.3k words! self insert. female reader, age gap / older men preference, obsession, unrequited love, fluff, angst and eventual smut.

Ao3 link here — full fic under the cut! | Fic playlist here! {Shuffle Off!}!

Tags: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @elsamars @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag

You almost called out to him right then, wanting nothing more in the whole, wide world than for him to look over his shoulder at you. You remembered every curve of his face, his bright smile, his tanned skin that smelled like sun — in two years you hadn’t forgotten a single thing about Jimmy Darling.You watched him hold the door for Evie like the charming gentleman that he was and heaved a distrait sigh. He waited for her before following her inside.

Your mind was buzzing with emotions. You wondered if Eve remembered you, you wondered if Jimmy, if he remembered when he’d turned the swivel stool in that diner, and told you…

1949

"Tell the ticket lady Jimmy sent ya’,” he said, finishing it with a wink. Cheeks red, your gaze fell to your lap. You were wholly unsure of how to respond to such flirtations, and your heart hammered against your ribs. When you looked back up, he and the rest of his eccentric troupe had left, much to the relief of the other patrons.

The syrup on your pancakes didn’t compare to the sweetness in his smile. You’d screwed your face up in disappointment when you brought a forkful to your mouth, the taste too dull in comparison. Devious thoughts of warm, thick nectar filled your head; you were a lost cause for the rest of the afternoon. He’d turned your little brain to mush with seven words, so much that you couldn’t even hear the chastising your mother would’ve given you for being so lustful. By that evening, Aunt Tessa had agreed to let you go just to ease the ache in her ears.

And you did. In the prettiest dress you’d had in your suitcase, hair freshly curled and the tiniest hint of rouge on your lips and cheeks, you went to that Freak Show. The skip in your step wasn’t at the thought of marvelling and gawking at the individuals that the town called “God’s mistakes,” but to see Jimmy.

You wrung your hands as you stood in line, waiting patiently behind each paying guest. Not that you planned on getting in for free — Aunt Tessa had given you a few dollars for food and tickets.

Finally, empty space was the only thing between you and the lady standing at the foldaway table. She wasn’t sitting down, and as you approached, you saw why.

“What can I do for you?”

You bent your neck all the way back to accommodate the woman’s height. She was broad, elegant, and looked stronger than any man you’d ever seen. A soft breeze blew from behind her, fluttering the silk fabric of her shirt. She smelled like flowers.

“Um… Jimmy sent me.” It came out a weak, shaky jumble of words instead of the confident statement you’d practiced on the way over. You closed your eyes tightly, cursing your jitters.

She glanced behind you. You were the last person in line, and certainly were without accompaniment. Realising that you were a nervous wreck with no parents in sight, the woman brought herself forward, resting the weight of her upper body on her knees. She turned her head, angling her ear towards you.

“One more time, sweetheart.” You took a deep breath through your nose and tried again.

“I was at the diner in town and… and Jimmy — Jimmy sent me.” You shoved the dollar upwards awkwardly, holding it as steady as your nerves would allow.

She straightened up, her thin red lips stretched wide in a bemused smile. “Jimmy Darling sent you? Well.” She leaned forward, gently wrapping her large hand around your petite wrist. She lowered your hand back to your side, wordlessly denying payment, then moved to drop the lid of the cashbox.

“Follow me.”

She led you through the main tent, and you followed proudly, feeling like a VIP guest. A few people leaned out of their seats to see the who, where, and why. Eve lined you up with a perfect spot in the front row and made sure you were settled before darting off behind the stage’s. The calliope music started somewhere from behind a curtain, and your heart took off, like it had in the diner.

A litany of ooh’s and aah’s punctuated each act, but your memory was worth a damn. As you watched the show, you truly hadn’t remembered much of anything. Anticipation had your attention span on a short leash, and each time the Bearded Lady came out to announce a new act, you inched forward on the wooden seat.

He had gloves on in the diner, but as soon as you’d arrived on the grounds, you’d sorted out what ‘freak’ of the show Jimmy was. Lobster Boy! The AMAZING Jimmy Darling! Live! In Person! Banners, Posters — they all showcased each of the freaks rendered in art. Jimmy’s hands were the focus of his posters; four fingers fused in two, formed into thick, fleshy segments. Finally, the stout woman announced the next act in her funny accent, and you scooted forward, hands clasped in your lap.

He was wearing a blue shirt with a brown vest and trousers, and his hair came forward from the crown of his head into a perfect single coif. The show lights followed him as he strolled across the stage, deformed hands at his sides.

“That’s right, folks! For as long as I can remember, I’ve been known as Lobster Boy. Son of Neptune, God of the Sea!” His voice was loud and strong. “But my pincers don’t hold me back!”

Women gawked, making disparaging comments as he opened and closed his claws, showing them off to the audience. ‘Such a shame! He’s good-looking!’ ‘What a waste that is! He’s not half-bad without those things!’

“Watch me juggle!”

And you did. You couldn't take your eyes off him, not for a moment. Your heart felt like a scoop of melted strawberry ice cream. You could’ve watched him juggle for hours, but too quickly, his act ended. One of the balls missed his pocket when he tucked them in.It rolled off the stage and landed with a heavy thud a few inches from where you sat. Unlike you, he didn’t seem to notice. Keeping your eyes ahead, you kicked one foot out and landed it inconspicuously atop the ball, manoeuvring back towards you with the heel of your shoe.

Fate had intervened with that one, you believed that. After the show, you strolled through the rows of empty wooden chairs, twisting your body joyfully back and forth. The tent was empty now, save for Jimmy, who was scouring the stage. He had bent over, lifting the heavy velvet curtain.

“Hell,” he muttered, letting the curtain drop. He spun around to the left, to the right, his back still facing you.

“‘Scuse me,” you started. “Mr. D-Darling?”

His head turned first, body following.

“Hey — I remember you. You’re the kid at the diner.” God, he was every bit as warm as he was in the dinner. Maybe even more. From where you stood, you could smell his body heat, mixed with the dustiness of the field, and the butter of popcorn. Holding the scent of him for a moment longer before speaking, you nodded coyly. With the ball still behind your back, you ground the toe of your saddle-shoe into the dirt floor.

“Well, did ya’ like the show?”

You straightened up, widening your eyes. “Oh! I thought you were just spectacu—- the show was real great. I’m only here for another week but I’m going to convince my Aunt Tessa to come see it too.”

Your slip-up wasn’t lost on him; he’d heard it, and caught it with a smile. “Say, you haven’t seen a —

“A ball?” You held it upwards to him, stretching your arm out. “It rolled off after your act… I didn’t want anyone trying to steal it.”

He seemed delighted by your loyalty as he reached for it. His — well, you weren’t quite sure what to call them in your mind’s eye, but his clawed fingers felt so heavy against your palm, and they covered it completely. Anyone would’ve been repulsed by his deformity, but you weren’t, even up close.

Your breath hitched in your throat. The blazing heat that started in the core of your abdomen and bubbled up to your cheeks confirmed that repulsion was the last thing on your mind. You didn’t register that you were staring until he jerked his hand away, taking the ball along with it. It seemed like he couldn’t set it atop the piano fast enough, before shoving both hands into brown cotton slits, returning himself to normalcy. He had sorely mistaken your fascination for disgust.

“Thanks, kid.”

Panicked and slightly offended that he had called you ‘kid’ twice, you stuttered into your next sentence.

“My name is Y/N.” You reached your hand up again, biting down into the cushion of your lip.

Jimmy hesitated.

He finally took it, and shook it delicately. You exhaled a little too breathily, on purpose.

“Jimmy,” he replied, a small smile blooming.

Between tittering laughs, you nodded. “Oh, I know that.”

The second time, three days later, you were just as nervous, just as focused, but your Aunt Tessa sat next to you, fanning herself with a poster card. This time, your attention was a little less taut, and you were able to enjoy the rest of the acts. In particular, you were dazzled by Amazon Eve, marvelling as she lifted nearly everything on the stage with ease, then stepped down to lift the front row bench on which your Aunt, you and two others sat. She recognised you, giving you a friendly nod before carefully setting you back down. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, feeling so very special.

If you had to ignore Jimmy — the show was still a delight. Every performer had a shocking talent to share, and you ate each of them up. You stuffed a handful of popcorn into your mouth, eyes softening at the little doll that stepped from the birdcage. Ma Petite was one of the most darling things you’d ever laid eyes on, even though you were well out of your doll days.

You saw the show one final time with your mother, on the day she came to pick you up. She was much less enchanted by the grotesque acts than you were, shielding her eyes as every moment passed. Jimmy juggled again, throwing the balls higher and higher with each rotation. Much to your dismay, he didn’t drop a single one, garnering applause from the astounded audience. He flashed a smile in your direction before palming all three of the spheres.

You didn’t dream of waiting for the entire tent to clear out, not with your mother crossing her arms as you rushed towards the stage. Jimmy had already disappeared, but the tattooed man was kind enough to stop dragging a crate to answer you when you asked where they were headed next.

Once in the car, you had asked your mother, “How’s Grandpa doing?” You rose the octaves of your voice in a slippery way to feign concern. “He’s not far from here, is he? In Tennessee?”

“He is… you know sugar plum, I bet he’d enjoy a visit from us both. Recovery can be awful lonely.”

You sunk into the seat, a devilish grin on your face. “A few days won’t hurt.”

Any guilt you felt from using your grandfather as an excuse fizzled out the moment you stepped into the warmly lit tent in Tennessee. You tucked your dress underneath the curve of your rear, and plopped down on the wooden bench.

1950

You had to wait until the summer of the following year, when school was out, to see your dreamboat again. It just so happened that your best friend’s cousin’s dad was a land owner in Alabama, and had just rented out one of his fields to a travelling freak show. You had almost memorised the show by the fourth time you saw it, except for the fact that Fraulein Elsa, the leader with a wispy German accent, added a knife-throwing act. She asked for volunteers.

Anne’s brother, brimming with misplaced confidence and testosterone immediately shot up. He’d been strapped to the wheel while his college buddies hollered, saying their goodbyes. A few moments later, without so much as a scratch, he jogged off the stage, a newfound confidence in his ability to cheat death. Elsa watched the young men, a disapproving sourness in her dark eyes.

The fifth time you saw the show, by yourself, he’d juggled like usual, but this time, he followed with a song. You were in the front row, and when he dipped the microphone down, almost to the floor, you gripped the bench so hard, your nails sunk into the wood as though it were made of butter.

“Oooooh, you come on like a dream, peaches n’ cream, lips like strawberry wine. You’re sixteen…” He looked right at you, and damn it all — he winked again. “You’re beautiful, and you’re mine.”

You gasped.

“We fell in love the night we met! You touched my hand, my heart went pop, and ooooh, when we kissed…” Jimmy swayed across the stage, a true performer, but you were practically vibrating with delight.

You clutched your hands to your chest, feeling as light as a cloud. Surely, this song was no coincidence. Could that have been the sign you needed? You two would meet after the show, and you’d phone your mother from another state, telling her you were married and had run away to the circus. You’d give his trailer a woman’s touch, painting the wooden cabinets yellow, and buying satin pillows for the modestly sized bed.

Oh sure, you thought. The quickest way to get Jimmy Darling arrested. That’s just terrible.

It wasn’t until you got back home from Alabama three days later that you’d heard the song announced on the radio as holding its place in “the top of Billboard for four weeks now!” The delusional high came crashing down around you, and you cried for hours into your pillow. Your mother tried to console you with a new dress, but it was the same pale blue colour of the shirt Jimmy wore once, so you cried more.

Alabama was too far to visit twice, so you stopped seeing him — in person, anyway. The poster you’d ripped from one of the telephone posts lived underneath your pillow. You fell asleep to it every night, folding and unfolding it with the tenderest of touches. It was a side profile of Jimmy, and his shadow cast was a warped exaggeration.

Eventually, the paper became so fragile that you had to tuck it away in your diary and leave it, along with the dreams of being Mrs. Y/N Darling, a name which was scribbled fanatically through dozens of pages, amongst detailed fantasies of the same subject.

Oh, I love him so much. Will I love him always? I will. Until the day I die, I think. But father says that all of my careless travelling has addled my brain — he doesn’t know that it’s not the travelling, but a boy!! — and I need to focus on my studies. Maybe one day, Jimmy Darling will love me. For now, I must let him go.

You tucked the journal in your bedside table, ushering away your silly teenage dreams. Sticky, humid summers faded into rainy, windy winter seasons. Eventually, the rose-coloured dreams of Jimmy Darling faded away, and your every day was filled with the frivolities of a small-town teenage girl on the cusp of adulthood.

There were hard days, naturally. Days where you dug your nails into your own heart, plaguing it with cruel thoughts of if he’d found a girlfriend, or if he ever thought about you. The last time you cried over him was in the bathtub, in January of 1951. Your father had made lobster for your aunt’s birthday dinner. You’d nearly lost it, staring too intently at the claws, hanging limp on the plate.

Though you didn’t think it would happen, eventually, the searing pain of a lost love turned into a dull ache, to a faint bruise. One that you didn’t know was there until you touched the spot unknowingly.

After that, you had a boyfriend for a few months. You’d kissed for the first time on Valentine’s Day, and then split by August. You got a job at a diner, working half days until you graduated.

June 1952 Jupiter, Florida.

It had started getting hot last month, and the world was alive with the tantalising promise of summer. The diner was usually busy from sun up to sun down, and really, you revelled in the work. There was a certain merrymaking in being a waitress. Folks from town, folks from across the country seemed to find a familiarity in diners — no matter where they were, they knew what to expect.

As you did every weekday, you’d showed up for your shift, uniform pressed and starched, with your apron draped across your arm. You checked your reflection in the glass of the jukebox, and tied the white cotton around your waist.

Tucking an order pad into your apron, you froze. Sitting on the speckled, glossy counter in front of you was a stack of flyers. Bobby, one of the chefs, was stretching up to hang one on the fridge. Your body seemed to quiver from the inside out, running cold and hot all at once as you read the brightly coloured words.

Fraulein Elsa’s Freak Show - Jupiter, Florida! See the marvels, the mystery from all corners of the earth!

“Y/N? .....Y/N!”

Your chest felt like someone had taken a mallet to it, and swung as hard as they could, hoping to ring the carnival bell atop. You blinked and turned to him.

“You ill or somethin’?” Bobby asked, pushing the knuckle of his pointer finger up into the soft underside of your jaw to close it. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Swatting away his hand, you snatched the stack of flyers and brought them up in front of his face. “I’m fine. Who brought these?”

“Hm? Oh. Those. Guy and a girl. Real tall girl. Just a few minutes ago, actually. Why? Are we not supposed to post th —”

“A few minutes ago,” you repeated, trembling. “Was…. Was one of them wearing gloves?”

Taken aback by the interruption, Bobby seemed confused and hesitated in answering.

“Was he!?” You asked again, a little too loudly.

He considers it, and remembers that it struck him odd, wearing leather gloves in the first hums of summer. “Yeah. Why?”

You practically threw yourself into the door, flinching at how hard the bell clanked against the glass. You looked right. A little girl held onto her mother’s hand with one, and gripped the sticky cone of an ice cream in the other. You flipped your head to the left — and on the sidewalk, a few blocks down, The Lobster Boy walked alongside Amazon Eve, who held the rest of the flyers in the crook of her arm.

Insecurity held you back. What would you do? What would you say? Hi, I was obsessed with you when I was a little girl, and I’m still obsessed with you now. You heaved a heavy sigh and returned to the diner to carry out your shift.

As soon the clock hit seven, you met up with your two friends, Susie and Margaret, just outside of where the show was. You’d called them from the diner phone, twisting your index finger in and out of the cord. It didn’t take much to convince them to go. You were all eighteen now, and school nights weren’t a main worry.

“Well, well, well. I was wondering when you’d show up.” You bowed your head sideways, unable to place why you suddenly felt shy. Eve reached to cup your shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. “Look at you… all grown up.”

At that, it took everything in you not to dip around the table and hug her, pressing your cheek against her chest. She’d also given you a blossoming idea that in two years, you had changed enough to look grown-up. You’d take that newfound confidence right to the door of Jimmy’s trailer one night soon.

“I’m just so happy that you all came to Jupiter, it’s been so — ” you started, before your words were cut short. Susie and Margaret flanked your sides and gasped. “My god, what I wouldn’t give to have your hair! You know, I can never get it to stay up in a scarf — my mother says it’s because I’ve got angel hair.” Margaret combed her fingers through her blonde tresses, and rolled her eyes. “Nothing heavenly about this.”

Eve’s laugh resonated through your chest as she gathered your change, divulging the importance of pin placement. Margaret seemed fascinated by the information, and you were just glad that out of all the stuffy, bigoted people in Jupiter, you had managed to find some of the only girls who would be more enchanted with Amazon Eve’s hair than her nearly seven foot tall stature.

The air was warm and heavy, seeming to hold the sweet smell of popcorn pungently. You ducked into the tent, and almost immediately, you saw him. He was in the corner, leaning against one of the support posts. Two years had been kind to him; although he had maintained all of his boyish charm, there was a new brawn that had settled in.

He was talking quietly to the Bearded Lady, who seemed very concerned with what he was saying. You wondered what it was they were discussing, but as the band of performers flooded the stage, they both scurried off to take their places. It may have laid dormant for years, sleeping like a hibernating bear, but it took just over an hour for your obsession to return full-force.

On Wednesday night, you convinced Bobby and Julie to go. Julie was only waiting two days a week, but you were taking advantage of all workplace camaraderies, big or small.

On Thursday, Bobby wanted to go again. He was just tickled by the Siamese Twins, and needed a second viewing. Somehow, he masterfully convinced the callous, burly cook, Sam, who never did anything besides fill up his truck, go the market, and clock in for work to go, too.

Friday night rolled around, Margaret brought her boyfriend, and Susie brought her younger sister. The ‘freaks’ scared her, so they sat in the back row, while you took your familiar seat in the front row. And for once, you couldn’t wait for the show to end.

You’d parked out in the far part of the field. As soon as the tent emptied, you retreated to the car to keep up appearances. However, instead of getting in leaving the freak show in a cloud of dust, you’d waited. Twenty or so minutes after that, you thought you saw Jimmy strolling out of the big top.

With your friends long gone and the rest of the field mostly cleared out, you finally pushed yourself off the trunk of the car and headed towards the mint-green trailer in the distance. There was a warm yellow glow emanating from the windows. He was definitely inside, and there was no turning back now. You stepped carefully over tall grasses and some discarded cans.

You were finally going to tell him.

You sucked in air through your nose until the breath hurt your lungs and the bust-line of your dress tightened. You gave the door three delicate taps.

“Yea—hang on!” You heard some commotion inside, and the door swung open.

“I’ll be — oh. Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you cooed. “Can I come in?”

Coughing out a breath, he looked you up and down. Jimmy then hooked his hand on the doorway, and leaned out to survey the area. Everyone was likely in the rec tent, readying themselves for supper. For a moment, he worried that his arrangement with the Tupperware gals had travelled, despite explicit instructions to keep it under wraps.  “Well?” You urged.

Jimmy was never one to deny beauties access to his trailer, so he stepped aside and allowed you in.

As you waited for him to shut the door, you focused on the thumping of your pulse, your heart pumping faster and faster. Back then, you were a little girl with a crush. A silly, jejune, frilly lace-and-bows crush. As you stood in the middle of his trailer, watching him, that childish adoration was stamped out by your big girl passion and unbridled lust. He was in nothing but a white undershirt and his trousers, with an unbuckled belt. You hadn’t seen him in such a… personal setting, and the visual had your stomach tightening into knots that only his fused fingers to could untangle.

“I’m not used to such pretty girls knockin’ on my door… what can I do for ya?”   His attention was on you and you swallowed. You took a few steps closer, closing in the distance. Hushing all the whispers in your mind, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands and pulled him right into a kiss. Before you closed your own eyes, you caught his his big, brown eyes widening before the lids drifted shut.

His lips were as soft as they seemed, exactly as plush and warm as you imagined they would be. For a moment, you felt him instinctually melt into you, sending a violent shiver down your spine. When you parted lips, he gripped both shoulders, gently urging you off. “Hang on a minute…” He swallowed.

“Wh-what’s goin’ on here?”

“Jimmy Darling,” Trying not to feel defeated by his rejection, you squared your shoulders. “I’ve loved you since I first saw you at Robbie’s Diner in Dahlonega, Georgia. September, nineteen-forty-nine. You told me to come see the show, and told me to tell them that Jimmy sent me. So I did. I was freshly sixteen that summer so I didn’t even try it, but I knew I loved you. I was still in school, but I’ve seen at least one show of yours in every state you’ve been in since then. Tennessee. I even hitched a ride with my best friend’s brother to see two shows in Alabama. ”

His eyebrows were laced together; confused, shocked, or maybe both. You righted yourself and started again, keeping your fingers laced behind your back to mask the trembling. “And then you came here, to my hometown; Jupiter, Florida. And I’ve seen every single show of yours for the past week. I’ve been front row. Every night.”

A strong knock thudded on the door. “Jimmy! You decent in there?”

“Yeah!” He shouted at the door, keeping his gaze locked on you. Immediately, the door opened, and Amazon Eve leaned in, poised to ask whatever it was that she’d come to ask, but as soon as she saw you, she stopped.

“Hi, Eve.” Without missing a beat, you turned back to Jimmy, and held your hand out. “Even Eve knows — she’s seen me.”

Eve looked as confused as Jimmy was, but feeling like she was now apart of the conversation, she ducked into his trailer and leaned back against the doorframe. She crossed her arms, the cherry print fabric pulled taught across her biceps.

“Sure have. Ever since Georgia. Y/N came what, twice? Three times — in one week.”

His head swept back and forth between you two, and his lips parted. You wanted so badly to press your own lips back against his, and slip your tongue into the empty space.

“Jimmy,” Eve started, in a low, patronising voice. She wasn’t about to watch this sweet, young girl’s heart crumble into pieces. “Don’t tell me you never noticed.”

You waited, and it wasn’t until he huffed out a laugh that you realised you hadn’t been breathing. Hand lifted to the nape of his neck, he rubbed it anxiously.

“I notice lots of women in the crowd, Evie.”

Eve’s jaw dropped slightly, and yours clenched, teeth creaking against each other. He knew immediately how that landed, and took a step forward, interjecting something about understanding. Your nose felt hot, and the humiliated tears bit at your eyes. He took another step forward, reaching for you. Mortified, you wrenched your arms away, pressing them tightly against your chest. Your breaths were severed by the oncoming sobs.

“No, no, I understand just fine. I spent-spent all of my su-summers—” Another breath. “—knowing you and I couldn’t — p—possibly expect you to know me.”

The tears spilled over, and as you wiped at them with the back of your hand, you laughed at how foolish it all was. Three years of unrequited love wasn’t so easily soothed. As quickly as you dried them, more tears tumbled over, leaving shimmering stripes over your cheeks.

“I was such a fool to think you’d love me, too.”

With the taste of his lips still lingering on yours, you swung around and shoved past Eve. You’d never felt so humiliated, so stupid in your entire life. You trudged through the field, unsure of which direction you were even heading, you weren’t sure where your car was until you heard Eve’s powerful voice behind you.

“Sweetheart! Wait a minute, c’mere!”

The tears had blurred everything, making it hard to navigate, and even though you wouldn’t admit it then, Eve’s stern grip was welcomed.

“Just come talk with me.”

Though you wanted to go home, you were in no state to drive. So, begrudgingly, you allowed you to steer her in the direction of her trailer.

Inside the trailer, you flayed open every layer of your heart as you retold the story, filling in all the untold chapters that only you knew. Eve wrapped both strong arms around you, pulling you to her chest. Enveloped in flowers and the smell of cotton, you wept into her shirt, clinging to fabric just above her breast. She shushed you, resting her chin against the crown of your head. The tears soaked through to her skin, but she didn’t seem to mind. After a moment of her stroking your soft tresses, you felt safer than you had all night. The blubbering subsided, replaced by uncertain whimpers. You pulled away to look up at her.

“Is it because I’m too young?” You asked between broken sobs and sniffles. “He sees me as that shy girl from Georgia, doesn’t he? I’ll be nineteen in October, I…”

“No.” She shook her head, genuinely. “He’s just.. I’d guess he’s confused.” She paused, bringing a white cotton handkerchief from her back pocket.

“That boy can’t see past the title this show has given him. None of us can, really. Men are terrified of me, I haven’t been on a date since nineteen-thirty nine because of who I am.” She dabbed at your cheeks and your top lip, removing all traces of sadness from your face.

“Jimmy thinks every woman takes one look at his hands and doesn’t stop running until they reach the next town.”

“Well, Jimmy is a fool, then! You’re all fools!” You sniffed authoritatively. “You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen! If I was, well if I…” You hesitated, not sure of how to continue, but Eve seemed to know what you were trying to say, and took your face in one of her hands, the tips of her fingers meeting the start of your hairline. “I appreciate that, honey.”

“OH! What a kick in the teeth that was. I embarrassed myself. I’m a nobody, just a face in the crowd to him and, and —”

Your words trailed off as you forced your heart to callus over. You sat upright on her bed, tracing the stitch lines on the comforter. You’d done this before, you could do it again. “Thank you for being so sweet to me. Tell Jimmy I’m sorry.”

Eve wanted to stop you, she really did. She knew that even with all of her mighty strength, she couldn’t have.

Jupiter, Florida. A few weeks later.

The bench looked empty. It wasn’t, but for some reason, it looked that way to Jimmy. He fumbled, and almost dropped two of the juggling balls. Anxiety crept through his mind as his focus drifted away. He cleared his throat, collecting the balls into one hand, and held out the other.

“And now, folks, from the exotic coast of Siam — our very own Siamese beauties; Bette and Dot!”

The crowd cheered, becoming livelier with whistles and hollers. They were the headliners anyway, he wasn’t going to be missed. The Twins hurried past him, but not before tossing a pair of concerned glances his way, knowing that Jimmy Darling never cut his act short.

He spun around to sneak out of the tent, and collided into Eve’s shoulder. “Hey, woah. Jimmy. What’s gotten into you?”

His chest rose and fell in frustrated breaths. She lifted her arms, opening the tent’s flap. She gestured with her head. He should’ve known better. Maybe it was the fact that she was tall enough to see over all the bullshit, or maybe strength wasn’t her only talent. She was damn near clairvoyant with how well she knew when something was up.

“That girl,” he began. “She wasn’t in the audience.”

Eve sturdied her face, and nodded once. “No, she hasn’t been for a couple weeks now.”

Jimmy reached up to wipe a ribbon of sweat from his brow bone. “I hope she’s alright.”

“She is.”

He looked up at Eve, taken aback by her response. “I checked on her, she’s fine. Healing her heart that you split in half with those hands.”

He groaned, covering his face. “I just thought I was makin’ stuff up, Eve! Women don’t follow me from the tent, let alone across state lines!”

“Well, Jimmy.” Eve inhaled a deep, full breath. “This one did.”

She ducked back into the tent to finish the show. Jimmy spent the rest of the night in his trailer, despondently nursing a bottle of whiskey. Somewhere, a few gulps before the bottom of the bottle, he realised that even though he didn’t know you, he had noticed you without being aware of it. You weren’t just another face in the crowd, but a constant presence in that audience. Once you’d left, he’d realised just how empty that big tent felt.

He didn’t hear the first knock, or the second. It wasn’t English, but he yelled something drowsily at the window on third. Outside, Ethel Darling narrowed her eyes and threw open the door and winced at the potent smell of alcohol that hit her in the face. Jimmy was sprawled out on the floor, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Jimmy, ma’ boy.” Ethel tightened her lips in disappointment, hating that her motherly instinct had been in correct. “What’s this now?”

“Ahh, Ma… I messed it up. There’s a girl that loved me… and I” Jimmy stumbled to his feet, and fell into hugging his mother. Confused, she wrapped her arms around him, petting the back of his head. “I’m gonna’ make it right, Ma. I’m gonna’ fix it tomorrow.”

“Can I get a shake?”

It was nearly time to leave, and your energy was diminishing. Without looking up, you whipped your pad out, flipped to a new page. Your tongue jabbed into the wad of bubble gum in your mouth, forming a pocket. POP! You scribbled shake followed by a dash.

“What kind? We’ve got vanilla, strawberry and chocolate. Five cents extra for a mix.”

The customer was talking low, in almost a whisper. You paid him no mind. It had been a slow day, and you were grateful for the distraction. The last two weeks had been a depressing, colourless, tasteless blur. The busier days were easier. It was the slow days where you heard caramel voices crooning about love over the radio that reminded you of the raw edges in your your heart.

“What’s your favourite?”

“Vanilla and strawberry.”

He slid a wrinkled dollar across the counter top, the green just barely visible underneath the worn leather of a black mitt. “Two of those, please.”

You had only glanced at it a moment before looking away, but as soon as the visual registered, your eyes swept back to the counter and then straight up until you were looking right into a set of eyes so dark, it was like looking into two cups of black coffee.

You slapped the ticket on the kitchen’s counter, and practically ran back to Jimmy, guiding him to one of the empty booths. You sat him down, told him to wait and you’d be right back. Part of you wanted to use the moment to see if you were hallucinating; if he was still sitting at the table, wringing his black gloves nervously when you brought the two shakes… god, I hope I’m not dreaming.

“Order up!”

Nosy, Bobby popped his head up, searching the tables. When he located the new addition to the diner, he opened his mouth as quickly as he narrowed his eyes. His whispered your name harshly, needing confirmation.

“Isn’t that the guy from the freak show!? The one with the —“

So, you weren’t dreaming. You shushed him before scurrying off. Even if Jimmy wasn’t waiting, you had zero intentions of explaining yourself. You shuddered at the thought of trying.

You set the shapely glasses on the table, jolting Jimmy out of whatever dreamland he’d wandered off to. You’d could hardly contain the silly grin on your face; you never imagined you’d be sitting across from him at a diner, but here you were. You playfully plucked the cherry off the top of your shake, dangling it over the frosty rim.

“Did Eve send you?”

A smile cracked across his face, lighting it up. He bowed his head and peeked up at you under his brow, watching the cherry sway back and forth. “Yeah. I mean. Sort of. But I wanted to come see you. I missed you.”

You drew your brows together as you took a sip, thrown off. “Missed me?”

“Yeah. You haven’t been at the show.”

Your stomach tightened. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

“I didn’t think I did, either.”

Skirting around the glass, he reached forward, and layered his gloved hand on top of your own. The leather was warm, and soft.

“But, I did. And I had to come and see you.”

“You don’t have to wear these, you know. I’m not afraid of your hands.” You could sense his hesitation, and recalling Eve’s words, you were prepared to reassure him until you were blue in the face. “Really. I’m not. I bet they can hold a woman just fine.”

He coughed abruptly, choking on the vanilla strawberry, or maybe his own breath. You almost regretted being so forward, but when his hungry eyes swept up to you, pulling you in, all that concern melted away. You reached up, wiping the tiniest, sticky droplet of shake from the corner of his mouth.

“I mean that though, Jimmy. I’m not afraid of them, and I’m not afraid of you. In fact, I’d prefer you over any man that could walk in this diner.”

He searched your face, trying to find a mask, or some part of you that was lying. You had nothing to be gained by lying to him.

“Can we get outta’ here?” He asked.

You spun around in the seat, looking at the clock. You were off in half an hour, and Julie would be here to start the night shift.

“Wait here.” You moved so quickly, you wondered if you were levitating.

“Sam!”

Like a big, old bear, he grumbled and groaned as he turned to face you. Grease stains spotted his apron. His ruddy, puffy face made him appear grumpier than he actually was. He was a bear, but more of a teddy bear than anything else.

“Do you mind if I leave early today? I’ve…” You heaved a sigh. “I don’t mind telling you, the boy I’ve loved for almost four years straight wants to take me on a ride on his motorcycle, and I’m afraid if I don’t get on, I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

Sam looked at you plainly, and grunted as he turned, the physical exertion warranting it. He set the spatula down, and pulled the edge of his soiled apron up, dabbing at the sweat at his brow.

“Mmm-hm. You go, Miss Y/L/N. You tell that boy though, if he hurts you, I’ll make him scrape the grease from these here vents with his bare hands for the rest of his life.”

You immediately wrapped your arms around Sam’s thick neck, singing gratitude over and over again. Maladroitly, he patted your head like a child.

“Go on, get outta’ here.”

Your arms were wound around Jimmy Darling’s torso minutes later as you headed down the dirt round out of town. Each bump and dip, you gripped him tighter as the wind whistled past your ears, lifting your hair up and throwing it around wildly.

Once you’d reached the field where the tents stood, Jimmy pulled around back and parked his motorcycle behind his camper. You were nervous, but that wasn’t his fault. Secretly, you wondered if someone saw the two of you, if you’d be an unwelcome visitor. Surely, Eve would vouch for you and pacify the situation, but the last thing you wanted was to cause any trouble. He opened the door, and beckoned you in with a nod of his head.

Inside, you surveyed your surroundings. The last time you were in his trailer, you’d left in tears. Jimmy seemed uneasy, like he knew this, and wasn’t sure if he should offer you a drink or some water. You turned your attention to him and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“We don’t have to talk about things now, if it’s eating at you. We could do anything you’d like.”

“Anything?” He asked, before his lips met yours. He lingered just long enough to ignite a fire in your core. His buttery, warm skin against your cool, powdered face was a titillating contrast, and it made you all the hungrier for him. As quickly as he had kissed you, he pulled away, drawing a distraught whimper from your lips.

“Even that?” He asked, hoarsely.

“Especially that.”

The urgency in which he collided with you again left you no time to react, or to control your reactions, for that matter. Jimmy dug deeper, circling his tongue with yours. You moaned desperately into his mouth, taking fistfuls of his shirt to pull yourself somehow closer. He inhaled a deep breath, taking in your scent.

“I’ve never met a girl who tastes as good as she smells.”

You laughed, almost incredulously and nuzzled yourself into the curve of muscle between his neck and shoulder. If only those horrible women could see this. For whatever supposed setbacks his deformity had given him, he made up for it tenfold in charm. You hated even thinking of his hands as abnormalities or imperfections — they were just as special and manful as he was.

They passed over the small of your back, around your hips, where he curled his fingers around them, clenching around the marshmallow soft mounds. All at once, he hoisted you up into his arms and set you on top of the nearby counter. Feverishly, he crushed his lips against yours again. He withdrew and dove back in over and over again, obsessed with the way you craned your neck forward to follow him every time.

His hands slid up your thighs, gathering your dress up to your waist. Jimmy closed the distance, pressing himself between your legs and grunted, grinding his hips against yours. Your breath hitched in your throat. Through the wool of his pants, there was an undeniable definition pressing against the already saturated silk of your underwear.

You rocked your hips back and forth, pressing back into him. He broke away from the kiss to look down at your bodies, his breaths heavy and laboured. A thin sheen of sweat had crossed his forehead, only enhancing the blissed out expression — but you’d play coy. Breathlessly, you asked if he was okay, and reached up to touch his face. He swiftly brought both of your hands around his neck and scooped underneath your ass once more. You were in the air again, but only briefly before your back hit the wall of his trailer.

Now pinned against the wall, your heart was thudding against your ribcage. Jimmy ground up into you, thrusting his hips in a steady motion. You whimpered. With an open mouth, he moaned against your collarbone. You splayed your fingers out over the back of his neck.

“I want you so much,” you somehow managed to get out, despite the jostling of his thrusting. “So much.”

You heard him blindly feeling for the button of his trousers, fumbling to undo them. You should’ve been nervous, but something about the way you felt he craved you made all that melt away. Without warning, four metallic bangs filled the trailer, startling both of you. You felt Jimmy’s arms tighten around you, pressing you closer to the wall. Like two delinquent teens, neither of you said a word, hardly breathing as you waited, hoping you wouldn’t be found out.

“Jimmy! Showtime!”

It was a deep, male voice riddled with as much impatience as it was authority. Jimmy seemed to have a more tetchy reaction with the way he glared at the door. For having such a dark gaze, there was no shortage of blazing fire when he wanted there to be.

“Let’s go! Don’t make me come in there!” The voice shouted again, followed by another stern set of knocks. You reached for his face, guiding it so that he was looking back at you. His gaze softened into something almost sorrowful.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered in reassurance. You’d waited years to be in his arms, another few hours wouldn’t kill you. Jimmy set you down carefully, stealing one more kiss before straightening himself out, and throwing on a pressed shirt that hung on the edge of a small cupboard. He reached into the waistband of his briefs, and adjusted, hiding the evidence of what he’d been doing. He kissed your cheek, and darted out the door.

The tenth time you saw the show, Jimmy Darling couldn’t take his eyes off you, and you, in turn, were transfixed, and deeply elated to hold his gaze every time he cast it to you. It was the first time that you weren’t sitting in the front row. You had snuck in once the show had started, and leaned up against a wooden pole that stretched all the way to the top of the tent. As soon as he came out, he searched the audience for you — and found you. He flirted with you guilefully, stealing wordless exchanges with you whenever he could. The most wondrous and shocking talent of his entire act was that he kept his cool. He was slick, but not slick enough for Eve — who looked like she was on the verge of laughing for most of the show. When you both disappeared shortly after the curtain fell, she didn’t bat an eyelash, knowing exactly where you two had gone.

“Where is Jimmy, Miss Evie?” Her little voice squeaked. He was the only one not at the table, though everyone besides Ma Petite seemed much too starved to inquire. Her delicate tone and cadence was so pure, Eve almost felt bad having to answer her question when the answer was so impure. Eve set her carefully down on the table, and reached for the radio knob, turning it up. “He’ll be late for dinner, sugar. He has something to take care of.”

“What’s that bit in your act, about your hands?”

Adorably, Jimmy paused, looking off, past his trailer as he searched. He must’ve said that speech every night for years, but he still had to recite it all under his breath, head bobbing back and forth as he reached the line…

“But my pincers don’t hold me back.” You nodded as you ran your fingers over the joined segments. “You wanna’ show me how they don’t hold you back?”

They were longer than a normal man’s digits, and certainly thicker. You inhaled sharply, sheepish. How vulgar you’d become. It wasn’t right for you to think it, and you certainly weren’t going to say it out loud, in fear of scaring him off. Still, the hunger in your gaze was unmistakable and that… you couldn’t hide from him.

Exhaling a breath, he laughed. Like a halogen lamp buzzing to life, his demeanour had changed. He was covetous and hungry and his gaze was leaden as it fell to your waist, and then between your legs. You felt him burning holes through the light blue fabric of your dress, leaving trails of heat everywhere he looked.

“Yeah… yeah, I do.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat.

Gently, he eased your legs open, holding onto your knees to situate himself between them. Ghosting the soft insides of your thighs, he leaned down, peppering your neck with hungry, wet kisses. You returned some of them, nipping at the warm, salty skin.

There’s an age-old phrase that everyone uses for encouragement. “Third time’s the charm,” It implies that after trying something twice and failing miserably, the third attempt is sure to result in luck. That may be true for some people, but ten was more your number, especially when it came to getting lucky.

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