#behind her family's back behind /john's/ back
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1968 [Chapter 8: Demeter, Goddess Of The Harvest]
Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.
Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.
Word Count: 6.2k
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Is it a story worth telling? I think so. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than watching raindrops slither down the cracked concrete walls until the prison guards come back to bloody us again.
Today I’m sending John McCain taps in the shape of the tale of Io. John has a hard time tapping back—they’re doing something to his shoulders, they’re destroying him—but he likes to listen. He’s getting it a lot worse than I am; perhaps even the North Vietnamese fear Aemond’s retribution if I die here. They should be afraid of him. He thinks he owns everything he touches, and he’ll snap bones to keep it.
So anyway, Io was a king’s daughter, a mortal who Zeus saw and wanted and took when her father kicked her out to avoid the god’s wrath. That’s easily half of Greek mythology, right? Zeus appears, irrevocably fucks up someone’s life, vanishes in a plume of clouds and thunder. He leaves human rubble behind him: ribs, nerves, disembodied hearts that leak blood from torn ventricles, minds broken in two. Zeus impregnated Io and then turned her into a cow to hide her from his wife Hera, ever-watchful, ever-vengeful, an aspiring mass murderess. When this disguise failed, Hera condemned Io to wander ceaselessly through the wilderness, tormented by the constant stinging of a gadfly. Eventually, Zeus returns Io to human form and she pops out a few bastard kids, as if Zeus needs any more of those. Then he ditches her and she marries some Egyptian dude. There are other details that I’ve forgotten. I don’t think John McCain will know the difference.
I’m sure you’re wondering how I acquired all this fabled trivia. I don’t seem like the type to lie around under trees reading folklore from religions that died thousands of years ago. You’re right, I’m not. But Aemond is. He would tell the stories, and Helaena would embroider scenes on quilts for us to burrow under in the winter, and I would dramatically act out the best parts (mostly murders), and Aegon would scribble comics in jagged black pen strokes. He has all these notebooks down in the basement filled with his new versions of ancient myths: Poseidon as a horny dolphin, Aphrodite as Marilyn Monroe.
Wait, I remember what I skipped. While Io was roaming across the globe, she bumped into Prometheus—chained to a rock for giving humans the gift of fire—and he cheered her up somehow. I guess meeting a guy who gets his liver continuously chewed out by a giant eagle would make me more appreciative of my circumstances too.
I have a lot of time to myself here in solitary confinement. My social circle is microscopic. I tap to John through the wall, I have dinner dates with Tessarion the rat. And I think about my family. They’re fucked up, but I miss them. I miss going to Monmouth Park with Fosco to bet on horse races, I miss getting hammered with Aegon while he sings Johnny Cash or Beatles songs. I miss my mother and Helaena and Criston. I even miss Aemond’s wife, though I only met her a few times before I deployed. She’s sharp, she’s hilarious. She’s mean as hell to Aegon, and sometimes he deserves it.
At first I wondered why Aemond hasn’t gotten me out yet, but I understand now. It sounds a lot better to have a brother being tortured as a prisoner of war than one who received a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It’s the kind of thing Aemond would consider. He understands which stories are worth telling.
I feel kind of bad for her. Aemond’s wife, I mean.
I don’t think she knows about Alys.
~~~~~~~~~~
On a chilly mid-September morning cloaked in fog, Mimi is laid to rest in the Targaryen family mausoleum at Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Most of the golden plaques already have names chiseled into them: Viserys and Alicent, Fosco and Helaena. Aegon will one day be interred beside his wife. You have a spot reserved next to Aemond. All of you have already lived and died and been entombed; all of this was predestined by the stars eons before you had blood or bones.
Ari’s vault—an unnaturally tiny drawer, less than half the size of anyone else’s—is located just above yours. You can’t stop staring at it. You can’t hear anything the bearded priest in his black robes is chanting. Then Cosmo squeezes your hand and you look down at him. Mimi’s other children are somber but seem to be coping well enough—they are used to being raised by consensus, they would probably be more affected if one of the nannies died—but Cosmo always wants to be near you. He gazes up with those vast, wet, murky blue eyes, so much like Aegon’s, and you offer him a sad, reassuring smile. Cosmo smiles back. And you think: Life goes on.
Alicent is sniffling noisily; it echoes off the walls of the mausoleum. Criston—a man with no plaque assigned to him—is trying to console her. Aegon is watching you from across the cold granite chamber, grim and red-eyed in his black suit, the first time you can remember seeing him in one since your wedding. He wears no small gold hoops, only a row of stitches in his right ear. He wants to say something, to do something, but he can’t. Aemond is beside you, a hand heavy on your waist but muttering something to Otto. Back in Omaha, Otto had spent a few hours alone with the medical examiner, and when the death certificate was issued it revealed that Mimi died of a heart defect, a perfectly blameless sort of misfortune, an innate impending disaster. And so that’s what the newspapers printed, and any gossip to the contrary is confined to salacious rumors, untrustworthy and unproven.
When the ceremony is over, journalists are waiting to scavenge for photos and quotes under the guise of expressing their sympathies. It’s a shameless display, though they at least have the decency to wait by the cemetery gates. Aemond and Otto go to meet them. Alicent, Criston, Helaena, and Fosco, protective of the children, keep them far away from the feeding frenzy, hungry-eyed reporters like sharks without fins. Ludwika is reapplying her lipstick. Aegon is smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to his oldest son, Orion, a stilted exchange that holds the promise of turning warm with time.
You sit on a stone bench and Cosmo curls up beside you, rests his head in your lap, dozes off as you thread your fingers through his wavy blonde hair. In the mist there are shadows of gravestones and trees that turn skeletal as they shed their leaves.
“He is okay?” Fosco says as he ambles over, meaning Cosmo. He has his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers that stop at his ankles. His suit is velvet, his eyeglasses speckled with drizzle from the slate-grey sky.
“He’s alright. He’s resting. Are you okay?”
“Oh,” Fosco sighs mournfully. “I keep thinking someone is missing. We came into this family together, Mimi and I. We got married six months apart. I have never had to do this without her. And I know she had her problems, but she was different when she was younger. She always liked a party, that’s why she and Aegon got along so well at first. But she was so loud and so funny, always telling these long stories, and everyone in the room would be grinning as they waited for the good part. Viserys loved her. Otto loved her. And then she had all those children one after the other, and that was hard, and Aegon self-destructed when he was the mayor of Trenton, and that was worse, and she was supposed to fix him and she couldn’t, the harder she tried the farther he ran from her. She started drinking her Gimlets before dinner, and then after lunch, and by the time you showed up it was never ending. But that wasn’t who she really was. She was like a moon that got smaller and smaller until the only thing left was a sliver.”
This family breaks people. This family kills people. “We’ll make ossi dei morti for Mimi tonight. I’ll help you, and we can teach the kids.”
Fosco smiles, swipes a tear from beneath his glasses, squeezes your shoulder with one wiry hand. “I am very glad you are still here.”
“I’m not trying to race you to that mausoleum.”
Fosco laughs. And then he says as he spies Aegon approaching: “Um…I will go avoid the paparazzi somewhere else.”
“You don’t have to leave, Fosco.”
“It is no trouble. And I suspect you enjoy your very rare privacy.” Fosco gives you a knowing glace and then heads back to where Helaena, Alicent, and Criston are lingering with the rest of the children. Now Ludwika is fluffing her blonde curls with her French tips, a smoldering Camel cigarette tucked between two fingers.
Aegon comes to you through the mist, plops onto the bench, and looks fondly down at Cosmo—now fast asleep, his face smooth and peaceful—before he speaks. “I can’t grasp that she’s really gone. We barely spoke for years, but she was always there, you know? Christ, she deserved better than this. She could have been happy somewhere else.”
“Your children need you.” It’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it’s the first time he believes you. He nods, staring out into the fog. “They have to get away from this whole circus for a while. And you have to learn how to be a real parent.”
“I’ll have time to work on it. I’m staying here. I’ve already been informed.”
You are alarmed. “What? By who?”
“Aemond and Otto.” Aegon says. “When the rest of you fly west, my kids and I will be at Asteria.”
“They’re getting you off the campaign trail,” you realize.
“They’re putting me on house arrest.”
Not seeing Aegon, not being near him? How long can I stand that? “I’m sure you’re relived. You hate the grandstanding and the media.”
He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I won’t be alone. I have Fosco and Ludwika.”
“I’ll talk to them.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that they need to look out for you.”
“Aegon, I’ve been doing the political wife thing for over two years.”
“But it’s different now.”
He’s right, it is.
“You’ll call, won’t you?” he asks. “You’ll let me know how the trip is going, you’ll tell me if anything bad happens? Because I can always get on a plane and meet you wherever you are. Otto might pay someone to murder me, but I’d risk it.”
“Of course I’ll call.”
“Hey.” Gently, he turns your face so you can’t hide from him. “Will you be okay without me?”
I have to be. I don’t have a choice. Instead you reply: “I’ll miss the weed.”
The tension breaks and Aegon smiles, and then he pats your cheek twice with his open palm. “Behave yourself.” He waves Ludwika over, interrupting her meditative chain smoking.
“What, what?” Ludwika says. “Are we leaving soon? Yes, it is so sad what happened to Mimi, but us standing around in the rain won’t resurrect her. And I look terrible in black.”
“I can’t be there for the last leg of the campaign.” Aegon points to you. “I need you to pay attention and check in with her at least a few times a day.”
“This is a common request. I should get a degree in it so I can charge people.”
Aegon furrows his brow at her. “What are you talking about?”
Ludwika smirks as she puffs on her Camel. “You are not the first person to ask me to keep an eye on her.” She nods subtly towards Aemond, then sashays off to give a quote to the journalists.
~~~~~~~~~~
In San Diego, Aemond meets with residents of a new public housing complex to hear their concerns about neighborhood jobs and infrastructure. In San Jose, he visits labor activist Caesar Chavez—being treated for debilitating back pain at O’Connor Hospital—and expresses support for the ongoing boycott of all grapes produced in the state. In Sacramento, he attends a Jimi Hendrix concert and receives a standing ovation from the audience; the next day he joins high school students protesting for a more inclusive curriculum. In Oregon, he makes a speech at Portland State University acknowledging the tremendous cost of the Vietnam War—in money, in time, in blood—and pledges to begin dismantling U.S. involvement as soon as he is sworn into office in January. Aemond talks about hope and despair, the bleak reality and the American Dream, and he is so overwhelmed by the crowd that he doesn’t even notice when someone takes his cufflinks as souvenirs. His lack of concern for his own safety exasperates Criston, but Aemond can’t be convinced to increase his security or his distance. If he expects the disaffected masses to carry him to the White House, he has to be real to them.
“What if another Wallace supporter tries to shoot you?” Criston demands. “What if a Nixon stooge stabs you or a crowd tramples you?”
“No one can kill me,” Aemond says, grinning wryly. “I’m not supposed to die yet. I’m supposed to be the president. It is God’s will.” And how can anybody disagree when that appears to be so true?
The earth dies as you drive north, summer withering into autumn. That familiar brisk cuttingness reappears in the air. You shake thousands of hands, smile for countless photographs. Mothers and wives of dead soldiers sob into your shoulder as you embrace them; teenage girls ask how they can get a good man like Aemond. Only one thing is missing from his glorious pilgrimage: something he wants desperately, something he cannot have (though he’ll never know why), you conceiving his child in time to announce it before Election Day. Each morning you sneak a pill and every night you bite the bullet. As often as you can, you duck into Dairy Queens to order lemon-lime Mr. Mistys.
George Wallace is in the South, galvanizing segregationists and accepting the endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan. Richard Nixon is working his way across the Midwest. He has chosen a politically moderate Greek as a running mate, Spiro Agnew; this does not strike you as a coincidence. He even shares a name with Aegon’s second son.
Nixon promises “peace with honor” in Vietnam, which means no immediate end to the draft. He makes speeches about “states’ rights” and “law and order,” ambiguous euphemisms designed to attract Wallace’s white supremacists without alienating too many suburban moderates. He commiserates with those lamenting the proliferation of sex, drugs, and divorce. He says he will return the nation to a more moral time. You wonder what he means. You can’t think of any such refuge in the bloodletting, spine-crushing history of mankind.
A kindergarten teacher tells you in Olympia, Washington, her eyes alight with reverence usually reserved for heroes, saints, gods: “People are voting for Aemond, but they’re voting for you too.”
And you find yourself thinking as a thousand miles roll by beyond the glass of limousine windows: How many people will I condemn if I don’t help Aemond win? How many lives is mine worth?
~~~~~~~~~~
The Hotel Sorrento in Seattle insists on giving you and Aemond the honeymoon suite: a retreat from the breakneck campaign, a romantic oasis for the future president and first lady…according to half the country, anyway. You are in the impractically large pink bathtub, surrounded by snowy dunes of bubbles. The wall to your right is a mirror, foggy around the edges; just a few yards to your left is the king-sized bed. In the top drawer of your nightstand is the card Aegon gave you in July. You aren’t sure where Aemond is, and you don’t especially care. You are relieved to be alone.
There’s a passion-red phone built into the rim of the tub, conveniently located for sudden room service revelations, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, steak and lobster. You have a different idea. It’s 7:15 p.m. here, so after 10 on the East Coast. On the steam-slick keypad, you dial the number for the main house at Asteria.
Eudoxia picks up and demands gruffly: “Geiá sou? Ti?”
“Hi, Doxie. Is Aegon around?”
“Where else would he be? Making himself useful somehow? Killing communists, driving a rocket to the moon? No. He is a burden as always.”
“Please be nice to him. His wife just died.”
“And so he cannot put his empty cups in the sink?” Without waiting for a reply, she sets the handset down on the kitchen counter with a clunk. There is distant, muffled shouting in Greek; she seems to back and forth with somebody. Then Eudoxia returns. “Antio sas,” she says, and hangs up just as a phone elsewhere in the house is lifted from its cradle.
Aegon answers with something halfway between a groan and a yawn. “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey!” You can hear it riding the wire like electricity: a rustling as he sits up, a fresh clarity in his skull. His voice is deep, hushed, still husky with sleep. “What’s up, little Io? Any interesting happenings to report from your neighborhood of the solar system?”
“I just left a riveting tea party. Apple cinnamon scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. We talked about what kind of couches I should get for the White House and I wanted to kill myself. Are the kids okay?”
He’s smiling; you can tell. “They’re alright. I could have used you this afternoon. I was trying to help Spiro with his math homework. Trying, not succeeding.”
“Well he’s in middle school and thus beyond your skill.”
“How’s Jupiter?”
You know who he means. “I don’t want to talk about Aemond.”
“Okay.” Aegon says, curious. “So what should we talk about?”
A few seconds tick by, silent and perilous. “Where are you right now?”
“In my lair. Like a beast.”
“Alone?”
A transitory pause. “At the moment.”
“On the shag carpet or your futon?”
Now he’s very intrigued. “Futon. Why?”
“I just want a visual.” Beneath the water, your free hand is resting on the velvety inside of your thigh.
“Where are you?” Aegon asks.
“You wouldn’t believe it.”
“Maybe I want a visual too.”
You chuckle, peeking over at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is dewy with steam; stray wisps of hair stick to your face. “I’m in a gigantic pink bathtub. It’s ridiculous, it’s shaped like a heart and everything. They have a phone installed right here in case I find myself in desperate need of filet mignon.”
“Oh.” And then he hesitates, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Big enough for two?”
“More like five. You should get a tub like this for your basement, it would delight the campaign staffers.”
“My basement’s been pretty empty recently.”
Softly, vulnerably, glass offered for him to shatter: “You aren’t seeing other girls?”
“Nah, babe. I want something they can’t give me.”
You picture him, messy hair falling over his forehead, drowsy eyes that gleam with clandestine wisdom. You can smell the smoke and rum that bleeds from his skin. “I wish you were here.”
“In Seattle?”
“No. Right here.”
Aegon exhales shakily, swallows, takes a few seconds to collect himself. “How’s the water?”
“Extremely hot and full of bubbles.”
“So I wouldn’t be able to see you.”
“No,” you say, baiting him.
“But I could touch you.”
“You already have.”
“Not enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to enough.”
“Do you remember what I felt like?”
“Oh God,” he whispers, and you envision him closing his eyes, rubbing his face with the open palm of his left hand. “Yeah. Of course I do. I can’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been trying not to…you know…it felt wrong to think about you that way unless you were cool with it. Like I was betraying your trust or taking advantage of you or something.”
“No, I want you to think about me.”
You can hear Aegon moving around on the green futon, repositioning himself, yanking down a zipper. When he speaks again, his breathing is quick and jagged. “Where’s your other hand, huh?”
“Under the water,” you reply coyly.
“You bitch,” he says, laughing. “I miss you so fucking much. The house isn’t right without you in it. You belong here, you belong where I am.”
Beneath the veil of bubbles and steam, there is no scar on your belly, no infidelity, no campaign, no distance of almost 3,000 miles separating you and Aegon. Your fingers slip between your legs, finding slickness the water can’t wash away. It’s a familiar sensation, though you haven’t felt it in a while: rising steadily until you hit a plateau like a jet reaching cruising altitude. From here, it will either glide along smoothly until it dies out, or eventually turn sharp and painful. “Tell me about you,” you pant.
He can hear it in your voice, a needful surrender that sets him on fire. He can’t believe this is happening; he never wants it to end. “I mean, I’m…I’m insanely hard.”
“Stroke yourself, imagine it’s me. I wish it could be me.”
“Oh fuck,” Aegon whimpers. “Okay, okay…I want you. I want you with my fingers, I want you with my tongue, I want you to beg for it, and then…”
Impossibly, incomparably, your own pleasure is climbing faster than you can reconcile yourself to it, no longer a hunger but a violent aching, a crushing gravity you can’t fight against, a ship being dragged to the floor of the ocean. What’s happening? When will it end? You moan into the phone, amazed yet petrified. You can’t get enough air; it feels like drowning, like dying.
“I need to see you,” Aegon says. He’s close to the climax that you know men experience, he has to be; he’s gasping. “I need to be with you, let me give you what you want.”
“I want you to finish inside me.”
“Io…babe…oh my God, you’re gonna kill me…”
There are sounds out in the front room of the suite: a lock clicking, footsteps, keys and a wallet tossed onto the kitchenette counter. You’re so consumed you almost don’t notice. Aemond is back. Aemond is back!! And every ion of your ascending euphoria evaporates. “Gotta go, bye.”
“Wait—!”
You hang up just as Aemond is opening the bedroom door. He walks in—immaculately tailored dark blue suit, polished black leather shoes trampling soft pink carpet—and turns to you. He has already taken his glass eye out and put on his eyepatch. Vaguely, fleetingly, you wonder where he’s been. His gaze darts to the red phone, your fingerprints in the condensation. “Who were you talking to?”
“My parents.”
If Aemond doubts this, he doesn’t show it. He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bathtub, peers down at you with an omniscient metallic glint in his eye. He’s always been less a man than a force of nature. “I know this year has been hell.”
You envision Persephone being stolen by Hades, Orpheus searching for his dead wife Eurydice, Charon ferrying souls across the River Styx. “You haven’t made it easier.”
There’s a flash of something in his scarred face, blazing and instantaneous like lightning, and then it fades. He reaches out to touch your hair, swept up and neatly bound with clips and pins. “We can’t forget everything we’ve accomplished together,” Aemond says. “I still need you. You’re my Aphrodite.”
He’s going to tell you to get out of the tub, to lie down on the bed, to open yourself so he can fill you. You distract him, forestalling the inevitable. Each morning Prometheus dreads the return of the eagle that pecks out his liver; as every summer ends Demeter mourns the loss of Persephone. “Any luck with Nixon?”
Aemond sighs, furious, brooding. “He still won’t agree to a debate. Wallace is onboard, he’s rabid for it, he’d show up if we held it in the fucking asteroid belt, any opportunity to spew his idiocy. But not Nixon.”
“Because he knows standing on the same stage as you can only hurt him. People thought he looked bad in 1960, can you imagine now? Television has gotten so much clearer. They’ll be able to count his sweat drops from their living room couches.”
“So how do I get him to do it?”
You look up at Aemond. It’s not a hypothetical question; he’s really asking for advice.
“I have to debate Nixon,” Aemond insists. “It’s close in the polls, which means it will be even closer on Election Day. I’ll underperform whatever is projected, my coalition is less likely to show up when it counts. College kids, hippies, transients. That’s just a fact. But the old people vote. The suburban housewives vote. Nixon’s resting on his political experience and accusations that I’m a communist, an agent of chaos. But I could slaughter him in an hour on ABC.”
You think of the mutilated Vietnam veterans waving their signs and screaming at LBJ from the other side of the wrought-iron gates of the White House. “Challenge him in public. Say that the American people deserve to see the candidates debate, and do it where everyone can hear you.”
“What if Nixon still refuses?”
“Then you call him a coward. You say he must have something to hide. You ask how he’s supposed to square up with the Russians and the Chinese if he can’t even face you.”
Aemond grins admiringly. “You’re vicious.” And he lifts your hand from the rim of the tub so he can kiss your knuckles. Once you licked up drops of his approval like Tantalus, cursed with eternal thirst. Now it is poison that turns your veins black.
“If there’s a debate, everyone should go,” you say, seized by sudden inspiration. “We should have a united front, including Aegon. It can be his return to the public eye. A month will have passed since the funeral, the timing is right. He can pose for a few photos with the kids to show the nation that they’re doing well and distract from any lingering rumors about Mimi.”
Aemond isn’t grinning anymore. He’s studying you with his cold blue gaze; no, he’s trying to intimidate you, to overpower you. “Otto and I will decide what to do with him.”
“He’s a Targaryen. He should be with the rest of us.”
Aemond stands and motions for you to follow, a snap of his wrist like a man calling a dog. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”
Panic, tension, an iron sinking in your belly. The water is only lukewarm now, but you don’t want to leave it. “I’m not done yet.”
“Yes you are.”
There’s nothing else to say. Legally, a wife’s flesh is one with her husband’s. You slip as you step out of the bathtub, and Aemond grabs your forearm. Not like he’s helping you; like you’re something he owns.
~~~~~~~~~~
Two knocks, swift and forceful. “Hey, it’s me. You ready? Everyone else is downstairs in the lobby waiting for the limos.”
You hurry to open the door, almost twisting your ankle as you stumble in your heels. They’re an inch higher than what you’re used to. Aemond chose them, and your dress too, and your sapphire teardrop earrings, and the silver chains around your wrist and throat, and your future and your past, and your life itself. It’s mid-October, and the night of what will almost certainly be the sole presidential debate of 1968. Aemond’s retinue is staying at the Hotel Saint Louis. It’s harvest time, the fields beyond the city being reaped of their soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and rice, the beef cattle culled in mechanical underworlds. Aegon’s flight must have just landed.
As soon as he sees you his eyes drop, wide and bewitched, ensnared everywhere except your face. You say: “Can you help me zip this, please?”
He blinks a few times, then shakes it off. “Sorry, what?”
“The zipper’s stuck. I need you to get it.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He steps into the suite and stands behind you. The gown is a vivid blue like the Greek flag, gorgeous and shimmering but a size too small. It wasn’t tight a week ago, but now it is, and you aren’t pregnant just always gaining and losing weight in new places, first the baby and then the pill, and it wouldn’t bother you if Aemond didn’t seem so confounded by it. Aegon says as he tugs at the zipper: “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, babe.”
“It has to fit.”
“Even if I miraculously get this closed, you won’t be able to breathe.”
“Do whatever you have to. Just…just…” You push every last molecule of air out of your lungs, suck in your belly, and you hear the triumphant squeal of the zipper. “Yes!” Oh, but Aegon was right: you really can’t breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“You’re not gonna last the whole debate in that. You’ll be sweating more than Nixon.”
“I’m fine.”
“Io…”
“I’m fine. Come on.” You snatch your matching purse off the coffee table by the couch, check your makeup one last time, and hobble in your heels as you walk with Aegon out into the hallway.
At the Kiel Auditorium a few blocks away, the Targaryen children—Aegon’s five and Helaena’s three—are presented for photographs before being escorted back to the hotel by the nannies. And even in the few weeks that have passed since you last saw Aegon’s kids, there have been extraordinary changes. They talk to their father, and he talks back, and he ruffles their hair and rests his hands on their shoulders and asks them about what they’re learning from their private tutors. Cosmo tackles you before he leaves—a powerful bear hug, though he can only reach your legs—and he says he hopes you’re coming home to Asteria soon.
“Me too, kiddo,” Aegon tells him, and then smiles at you; but above his gleam of teeth his cloudy blue eyes, like the Atlantic in a storm, are gloomy and troubled.
As the audience takes their seats and the journalists are poised to capture the best images and quotes of the night, the three candidates and their wives (minus Wallace’s dear departed Lurleen) meet briefly backstage to exchange the perfunctory well-wishes. Pat Nixon is introverted and bookish, though she tries to hide it; but Aemond reels her in like swordfish until her eyes are filled with him. George Wallace gets one glimpse of your venomous glare and escapes, claiming to need one last trip to the restroom before the debate begins. But Richard Nixon beckons you to accompany him to a quiet, discrete corner of the room.
“I tried to call,” he says. He’s a remarkably normal man: medium height, receding dark hair, rough voice, weathered skin, not a god but a mortal, and—you have the impression—more aware of his flaws than his fiercest critics will ever be. “But no one at that damned beach house would ever put me through to you.”
You aren’t sure what he means. “Oh?”
“I never got the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was for your loss in July, Mrs. Targaryen,” Nixon says with unglamorous, plain, genuine compassion. “Pat and I, when we heard, we wept for you. We truly did. And for your husband to be clear across the country…I can’t even imagine. It must have been awful for you. A parent never gets over something like that. It stays with you like a scar.”
“It does,” you say softly.
“I lost two brothers. Arthur died when he was seven, tuberculosis killed Harold in his twenties. God, it just about destroyed my mother. You’re a remarkable woman. You’re lightning in a bottle for Aemond, do you know that? You’re like one of those Kennedy gals, but even better. More personable than Jackie. More intelligent than Ethel…although, to be frank, who wouldn’t be? And you’re not afflicted with any ghastly vices like Ted’s wife Joan. What would Aemond do without you? He’d lose, that’s what he’d do.”
Nixon’s smart, but he’s wounded. He’s capable, but he’s so desperate to prove it. Power could ruin a man like this. “You’re very kind, sir. You did some great work under Eisenhower. Self-made like my father was, a devotee of the American Dream. I believe you have an important role to play in this country…” You smirk, a bit mischievously. “Just not as the president.”
Nixon chortles. “No matter what happens tonight, rest assured that I hate Reagan more than I could ever dislike your husband,” he says, meaning the Republican governor of his home state of California. “You know that bastard tried to primary me?”
“Actors don’t belong in politics.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Nixon says, and then bids you farewell as the lights turn blinding and the curtain begins to rise.
As soon as the adrenaline begins to fade, all you can think about is that you can’t breathe. You take your seat in the audience between Aegon and Ludwika, who won’t stop making jabs about Nixon: “He looks like a troll,” “He looks like a sasquatch,” “Do you think Pat makes him wear a Creature from the Black Lagoon mask in bed so she is not so repulsed by him?” The most you can offer is an occasional distracted nod in response.
“You alright?” Aegon whispers.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t look alright.”
“I’m great.”
“Sure,” he says, and he acts like he’s teasing, but there’s something tremendously sad underneath. He can’t save you from this. He can’t save you from anything. What must that feel like?
On the debate stage—broadcast to a national audience—Aemond performs brilliantly. Nixon salvages what could have been a bloodbath with a handful of clever retorts that Aemond pretends not to be rattled by. The real loser of the night is Wallace, who is brutally attacked by them both: Nixon because Wallace is commandeering some of his voting bloc, and Aemond because of his near-assassination back in May. After an hour, the contest concludes and the candidates descend to the main floor to pose for photos and get lassoed into brief interviews with various journalists. Everyone in Aemond’s entourage besides you and Aegon flock to his side. By now you’re gasping in shallow gulps, close to tears and in agony from your ribs to your wobbling feet.
“I told you,” Aegon says. And then: “Come on. We’ll take the first limo back.”
In the front room of your hotel suite—one yellowish end table lamp glowing dimly, the rest of the space like twilight—Aegon wrestles with the zipper as you struggle for every breath, trying not to pass out. “Ow,” you whine. “Oh fuck, this was so stupid…”
“Don’t let him make you wear shit you don’t want to wear.”
“I have to do what he says, Aegon.”
“He doesn’t own you.”
“Legally, he does.”
He’s tugging futilely at the jammed zipper. “Are you planning on using this again?”
“I believe that would be wistful thinking.”
“You probably look better out of it anyway.” He grabs his Zippo lighter from the pocket of his emerald green suit jacket and flicks it to life. “Don’t move, okay?”
“Okay.”
“At all.”
“Got it.”
You can feel heat, intense but not painful. Aegon has pulled the edge of the fabric as far away as he can from your skin and is singeing it until it turns black and charred and brittle. Then he tucks the lighter back into his pocket and with both hands rips your dress down to the small of your back. Cool air rushes to meet the ridge of your spine; goosebumps prickle all over. Aegon is marveling at you; you can see it when you glance over your shoulder at him. Then he lays a palm against your bare skin, leans into you, inhales everything you’ve ever been: smoke and sex and starlight, strategies, shadows, secrets.
The others will be pouring into the hallway from the elevator any minute. Aemond. Aemond could find us.
“We can’t,” you whisper, hating yourself for it.
Aegon kisses the nape of your neck—so slow, so kind—and then goes to the doorway. You wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you as you hold up the ruined gown so it covers your belly and your chest. You gaze back helplessly, wanting him, needing him, a moon chained to another world’s gravity.
We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.
“I’m so sorry,” you say.
And only then does Aegon vanish.
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen ii#aegon ii#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon x you#aegon x y/n
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All The Things I Did (Interlude): My Little Loves
a/n: Mother's Day, 1950. a super long, fluffy fic about Mother's Day! there is also quite a bit of angst as this takes place about one month before John would ship off to fight in the Korean War. I really hope you all enjoy this little bit of a deeper look at the twins/Lillian's personalities and Cass/John as parents and the absolute chaos that their house always is but they fucking love it because they fucking love each other. chat soon my lovies xoxo
The gentle tickles of John’s lips pressing to her back caused a smile to spread across her face. She kept her eyes closed as he kissed every inch of her skin that was exposed by the dip in the back of her nightgown.
“I know you’re awake, baby. Can see the goosebumps when I kiss you.”
“Keep going. I didn’t tell you to stop.” He smiled against her shoulder and reached for the hand resting against her rounded belly and twisting their fingers together. “Waking me up like this is exactly how we came to celebrate this day three years ago.”
“Happy Mother’s Day, my love. Last one as a mama of three, huh?” Cass hummed and wiggled her back further into his chest. He kissed behind her ear and buried his nose in her hair, relishing in the simple feeling of her in his arms. It would never get old for him. The quiet moments between them and their growing family were his favorite. There was no moniker he loved more than husband and father.
“If you had it your way I would always be pregnant.”
“Can’t argue that. I love filling you up with my babies.” As if to illustrate his point, he found the hem of her silkwear at the top of her thighs and lifted it to expose her belly to him fully. She was two months along with the next addition to their family. They were both already so eager to have a little baby again. “And how can you blame me? We make the prettiest little ones.”
“I have to agree. How do you make it so they all have your eyes?” She rolled over to face him and look at the baby blues in question.
“I don’t do it on purpose. Just a side effect of my-” There was a gentle knock on the door. “My bets on Penny,” he whispered.
“Fine. I’ll take Lilly.”
“Mommy? I come in?” It was Gale. They were both wrong.
“Yes, my little dove.” Knocking on the door to Mommy and Daddy’s room was one of the most critical things they had taught the twins. It had only taken one time for them to walk in on a moment their innocent eyes should never be exposed to for John to use his stern dad voice. The tone was so rarely used that their toddler ears had listened very closely and had obeyed ever since.
“Happy Mama Day!” He came scurrying into their room, his blanket trailing behind him, and Cass caught him in her arms as he jumped onto the bed.
“Careful, buddy,” John exclaimed as his wife grunted and fell against the pillow with the impact of her son.
“Sorry!” A few days ago, John had reminded the kids that the day where they celebrate their mother was coming up. Gale had been particularly excited, giving John a stack of drawings that he wanted to gift her and asking if they could have pancakes for breakfast because they were her favorite.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked as her hand stroked through his curls. He nodded from where his head was tucked under her chin.
“Hungry,” he offered simply. All of a sudden, John had two sets of eyes on him. “Daddy, we have cakes?”
“We did say that was mommy’s favorite.” He stroked the pillow soft cheek of his son and Cass smiled as she recognized the look in his eyes. One of pure adoration. One that he only ever looked upon her and their children with. “Go get your sisters so they can help.”
“Okay. Love you mama. Love you papa.” Gale reached for his dad first, kissing John’s puckered lips, before he tightened his little arms around Cass’ neck and accepted her request for a kiss as well. He shimmied out of the bed and was off in a scamper down the hall.
“When are we going to tell them?” she whispered with sadness as she watched her son. As she felt her husband’s hand tuck her hair behind her ear.
“I want today to be one of happiness. For you and for them.” He thinks the twins would be able to understand he was leaving for a while. That they would be able to feel the ache in their chest at not seeing their father for months. Maybe longer. Lillian had just turned two. Her grasp of the world around was still taking shape. But there were medical appointments and chauvinistic doctors.
John knew his wife was strong enough, their love for each other was more than strong enough, to survive his deployment to Korea. He just didn’t know how he was going to say goodbye to her or the little one growing inside of her. He was at his strongest in the presence of his family.
“I want every day to be happy for us. But especially for them.” Cass had promised her children they would never not be with their family. That nothing would ever separate them and that is exactly what their mother and father had fought for. And now it was all unraveling. “Look at my first baby coming to see me because he knows I’m sad.” Butter came padding into their room with a sock monkey in his mouth.
“No, he just knows I’m about to get out of bed and wants to take my spot.” Butter whined as if to ask if he could hurry up and do just that. They heard two sets of feet quickly patter down the stairs and smiled as their littlest one rubbed her eyes in their doorway. The stairs were a bit of a daunting task for her so she knew to ask for help. “Hi, ladybug.” John was quick to swing his legs onto the floor and pad over to his princess.
“Does it look like she was scratching at her ear again?” Cass welcomed Butter onto the bed with a scratch to the top of his head. At her last doctor’s appointment, they had poked and prodded as they tried to find a comfortable hearing aid for her little ear. It had left her with even more discomfort than she normally walked around with and it broke Cass’ soul she couldn’t fix it.
“It doesn’t look as red as it did yesterday.” John kissed the ear in question as he rested his daughter on his hip. She smiled and gripped the collar of his shirt tighter. “Should we go make sure Mommy has a breakfast that’s actually edible?” Cass melted as she watched him rub his nose against their daughter’s. Lillian was so attached to her parents, only ever at complete peace in their arms and seemingly feeling a little lost in navigating this loud and crazy world. The most rewarding gift she could have given her children was this man as their father.
“We can’t miss mass either, John!” she called as he disappeared towards the sounds of giggling children and bowls clanging together. “What are the chances they don’t make my entire kitchen look like a warzone?” she asked Butter as she turned to kiss his nose. He looked at her as if to say zero.
----
“Penny, I love your coloring so much and it is so beautiful, but can we keep it on the paper and off the table?” Cass normally put paper or an old tablecloth under their paper when they were coloring to avoid this very issue but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind until it was too late.
“Daddy, sing please!” Penelope asked with a smile as she looked up at John.
“Please!” Gale emphasized.
“Sing? What should we sing?” He was balancing Lily on his hip, her little hands occupied with the piece of fruit she was sucking on and refusing to eat, while grabbing pancake ingredients with one hand and monitoring the bacon crackling on the stovetop.
“Twinkle star,” she offered as she got down from her chair and moved to the counter by her dad.
“You want to start the song, lovey?” Penny wrapped her arms around John’s leg and hugged tightly as he struggled to measure the flour with two of his limbs occupied by cuddly babies.
“Twinkle twinkle star,” she began singing with her toddler lisp glossing over some of the consonants in the words.
“How I wonder what you are,” John continued as his son padded over to join in on use Dad as a jungle gym time, taking the empty leg for himself to match his twin. “Up above the world so high…” He looked down as the twins mumbled along to the song.
“Like a star in the sky,” they sang. He smiled at their new lyrics. Diamond was a hard word for them to pronounce. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”
“How I wonder what you are!” He bopped his finger against Lilly’s nose as the song came to a close. “Excellent job, my loves.”
“We help?” Gale asked as he was already moving his little stool so it was flush to the counter.
“Stir very carefully,” John said as he offered the wooden spoon to his son. He switched the hip Lilly was resting on and dropped a kiss to the top of Gale’s head, checking in on Penny who was happy to stay wrapped around his leg like a monkey. “Should we add some chocolate?”
“I love chocolate!” Penelope answered as she stood to try and peek at what her brother was doing.
“Penny, careful,” Gale cautioned as he furrowed his brow with concentration at the task his father had given him. John smiled at the interaction as he offered Penelope a little bowl of just chocolate chips.
“Don’t tell your mother,” his finger against his lips as if to seal in the secret.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she giggled as she scurried back to the table with her little treat. Lillian squeaked with delight as Butter came loping down the stairs to join in on the chaos and get closer to the smell of bacon. He sniffed at her feet as she laughed and reached to pet him.
“There you go, ladybug.” John set her down and she was off towards the living room with her best friend in tow in search for his favorite basket of toys. “How we looking, Gale?”
“All done!” John gave it a quick stir to make sure everything was incorporated and gave his son an impressed nod when it looked perfect.
“Mommy’s going to love these,” he whispered as the little one smiled.
“I love mommy.”
“She loves you, too,” John slid the pan of bacon to the back of the stove and let Gale drop a pad of butter into a new pan, “and you know I love you a lot, right?”
“This much?” Gale giggled as he spread his arms out wide.
“This much,” John answered with a smile as he extended his own arms. He brought his arms around his son’s little body and squeezed as tightly as he could, kissing the side of his head. There was a happy screech from the living room, distinctly the sound of Lillian, that had both Egan boys turning their heads. “You want to check on your sister?” The twins were just as protective over their little sister as their parents were. John and Cass had done their best to explain to them she was a little different than the little siblings their friends have or even than they were as babies. That she needed a little extra love and attention sometimes. Cass had let the thoughts eat her alive that she wouldn’t be able to love the twins as much as they deserved if she was so focused on Lillian. John had assured her that her heart was big enough for the task.
“I be back!” John watched with a smile as his son ran off into the living room and felt his chest swell at the little humans he and his wife had created and were raising to be kind, loving and giving. It was these exact moments that had spurned his heart back to life on the back of the carriage in the German forest or when his stomach was cavernous and his nose felt like it was going to fall off in Stalag. He was on this earth to be a husband to his wife and a father to his children.
“Daddy, more chocolate?” Penelope presented him an empty bowl with the evidence of her treat streaked across her cheeks and even a little on the pink of her pajamas.
“Little lamb, how did you get a tiny bowl of chocolate chips all over you like this?” he asked as he crouched down to her height.
“More, daddy? Please?”
“I’ll put some in your pancakes, how about that?”
“Smile face?” John had been known to try and turn his kids food into a smiley face whenever he had the chance. Most notably was Sunday morning pancakes with chocolate chips.
“Yes, baby, daddy’ll make your pancake into a smiley face.” Satisfied with his answer, she too ran off towards the room that held a fraction of her toys, her dog and her siblings. He thought about calling back for her so he could wipe her face and hide the evidence from his wife but he could already hear giggling and thought it best to leave it be.
Of course his three kids were an absolute handful, he doesn’t know how their nanny did this by herself everyday or how Cass managed at night before he got home, but he had never felt as fulfilled as he did in the moments with them. When he had gotten the orders to Korea, it was missing these moments that made his heart stop. Missing Gale and Penelope’s musicals they put on with their stuffed animals most nights. Missing guidance from doctors on how to help Lillian still hit milestones and reach her full potential in this life. Missing the sight of Cass’ smile and the way she mumbled in her sleep and how she fiddled with her wedding band when she was reading.
The United States Air Force was a bitch of a mistress.
----
John had every intention of bringing her breakfast in bed and snuggling as a family under the covers. But Gale had spilled the orange juice on his way up the stairs and Butter had stolen a strip of bacon from the plate while he was trying to clean up and Penny had already picked chocolate chips out of two pancakes before he realized it might have been too noble of an intention.
“What have we got going on down here?”
“Mommy!” It was a chorus of loving children as Cass appeared at the top of the stairs like an angel. She tiptoed around a defeated John and welcomed all three of them in for a hug as she reached them.
“Did my little loves help Daddy make breakfast?” The twins nodded and Lillian crawled into her lap, her ear dropping to her mother’s chest and smiling at the feeling of her heartbeat instantly. “Let’s go set the table so we can enjoy it.”
“I’ll meet you guys over there,” John sighed as he was picking up ripped pieces of pancake from the stairs.
Just like the goddess he always knew she was, Cass had the kids cleaning up coloring supplies, setting placemats and settling into their wooden booster seats all while they hummed Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star again. He watched silently as she wet a napkin and wiped Penelope’s giggling face and helped Gale cut his breakfast into smaller pieces and took extra care to make sure Lillian was comfortable with her miniature fork. “I’m sorry, baby, we were supposed to be waiting on you, not the other way around.”
“I’d rather dote on the little doves that made me a mother today.” She fell against him with ease, his lips against hers quickly. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“You haven’t even eaten it yet. It could be disgusting.”
“The lack of Egan jabbering coming from the table due to their eating of it leads me to believe it can’t be that bad.” Cass pressed onto her toes to kiss John the way she always did when they got to talking about their babies. Like she wanted another one promptly. It was how the current Egan in her belly got there.
“Since when is their jabbering from me? You’re the one who sweet talks people for a living.” He fisted her nightgown as he tried to restrain himself against the efforts her tongue was making with his. “And so successfully I might add, baby. So good at being my little Spook.”
“John Clarence Egan,” she squeezed his cheeks into his chin with one hand, “stop with that bedroom voice. We have no time-”
“Oh, Cass, I don’t need that much time,” he sniped back with that grin that normally made her knees fall open.
“Mommy, Daddy, sit!” Penelope pointed at the empty chairs they normally sat in, her face covered in even more chocolate than it was before.
“What do we say when we ask someone for something?”
“Please!” she answered. Cass kissed the top of her head and sat down across from her as John carried over two plates.
“Thank you, baby,” she kissed his arm as it reached in front of her.
“Mama!” Cass smiled as Lillian called for her attention and reached out her arms. It wasn’t very often she tried to speak and it made her heart soar whenever she did. Even more so when she used her voice to call for her parents.
“Yes, my sweet girl, I’m right here.” She brought her into her lap and swallowed back tears as John looked at them with a sad smile. “I’ll always be right here. I promise.” Cass buried her nose in Lillian's hair and breathed deeply as John held her hand on top of the table.
“Daddy, too?” Gale asked quietly as he paused his eating.
“I’m always, always, going to do everything I can to be with you.” He squeezed his wife’s hand tighter.
“Okay, Daddy!” Satisfied with the answer, and not understanding the true sentiment behind John’s words, Gale was focused on his fork and making it sound like a plane.
Cass did her best to smile the rest of breakfast. She snuck some bacon under the table for Butter. Bounced Lilly on her knee while she laughed. Felt her sides hurt with joy as John mimed eating the chocolate off of Penelope’s cheeks. It was exactly the kind of family she had always wanted to build. One of pure love and happiness. One that didn’t feel like it needed to be molded in some kind of high society pressure. One where her kids would always know she loved them. Where they would always know their parents loved each other.
“Alright, monkeys, let’s go upstairs so we can get changed for church.” The twins groaned like teenagers trapped in toddler bodies, Penelope dramatically going limp in John’s lap while Gale dropped his forehead to the table. “Hey, we said today was Mommy’s day right? So we agreed to do whatever Mommy wanted?”
“No church, Daddy.” To them it meant stockings and sitting quietly and there were the Carter kids that they despised seeing.
“For me?” Cass asked with a pout. It worked on their father. Maybe it would work on them. Penny looked to her dad.
“Do it for Mama,” he whispered like it was a secret just between them. Penelope relented with a nod and after a kiss to the top of her head from John was off his lap and holding her brother’s hand to scurry up the stairs.
“You want to help them while I clean all this up?” He was already standing from the table and gathering plates.
“I’m going to find a way to get us to Japan.” John froze and turned back to look at his wife, her focus on Lillian. “I’m not letting anything separate this family. Not even another war.” He set the plates in the sink and moved to crouch at her side, tucking her hair behind her ear and noticed the way she was shaking with the strength it took to not break down.
“Cass, baby, nothing ever will separate us. Even if I am physically far away, you know my heart is always with you five.”
“Last time…last time…” Lilly squeaked as her mother pressed her into her chest. Cass so rarely thought about Germany. Used all her compartmentalization skills to keep the years without John shoved away. Her time at the camp and their journey to make it out of there tucked away even further. She had always been adamant that misfortune only befell them when they were apart. When the distance allowed the malevolent spirits to find their way in.
“Hey, ladybug, come here.” John gently pried Cass’ hands from around their daughter and set her on the ground. “Butter!” The hound came trotting when he heard his name. He whined at the sight of Cass and the state she was in.
“Mama?” Lillian tilted her head and reached back for her mother with curiosity. Understanding why John had called him, Butter distracted her with a lick to her cheeks and she was giggling at the dog instantly. He gently nudged her until she was toddling out of the kitchen and he followed after her.
“Talk to me, Spook. Tell me what’s rattling around that gorgeous mind.” John cupped her cheek so he could look her in the eyes.
“I had the worst two years of my life because I wasn’t with you. I was hopeless and lifeless and had no purpose without you, John. I’m so afraid that when you leave, I’ll go right back to that place and I have those three I have to be brave for and this little one and oh, God, they’re going to come while you’re gone and I can’t-” Her head was tucked under his chin in an instant as the sobs racked through her body.
“Breathe, baby, breathe. I’ve got you.” Cass had gotten so good at tucking her emotions into a little box that she kept in a dark and tiny corner of her heart. It had been years since the memories inspired a breakdown such as this. “If you and the kids moving to Japan is going to fix that ache, then we’ll figure it out. We’ll find a way. Just like we always do.”
“I don’t want this to weigh on you. Just give me a minute and I’ll be fine.” She pushed off his chest and stood on shaky legs.
“Cass…” he reached for her but she didn’t grab his hand. He recognized the glazed look to her eyes. It was the same she had the previous few times the ghosts of the past had come to haunt her. It was Central Intelligence Agency Cassandra Egan taking the reins. Urging the version of her that felt too hard and too deeply to let go of the wheel and let the cold as stone version take control. “Cass, baby, don’t do this. Don’t run from your emotions. Don’t shut me out.”
“Mommy! I need help!” Penelope’s voice called from the top of the stairs.
“I’ll be right there, little love!” She turned to look at John who looked like he was going to stay exactly where he was until she crawled back in his lap and worked through this with him. “I’m not running and I’m not shutting you out. Now’s just not the right time.”
“When will be the right time?” He wasn’t going to let her say the things he wanted to hear and get away with no following through.
“Tonight? You, me and our pillows?” It was where their most important conversations seemed to be had. The place where they could relax and breathe and touch each other and whisper softly and kiss each other through whatever problems arose. They had yet to find a problem they couldn’t kiss their way through.
“I’ll be there.”
----
Gale and Penelope held their mother’s hand tightly as they walked out of the church, anxiously awaiting the lollipop their father normally handed to them once they hit the sidewalk if they had behaved. Penelope had done her best to not plug her ears at the sound of the organ and Gale had only stuck his tongue out at Jeffery Carter once and his mother hadn’t even noticed.
“Alright. Good little lambs lollipop time.” John dropped Lillian to her feet and squatted to be at the same height of his cheering children. “One for each of you.”
“Thank you, Daddy!” the twins said in unison.
“Give me a kiss.” They giggled as they each pressed their sticky lips to his cheeks.
“Oh, Cass! It’s so good to see you! Happy Mother’s Day!” Grace Carter. Self-proclaimed Queen of Great Falls, Virginia.
“Grace, it’s good to see you.” Cass greeted her politely. “Happy Mother’s Day yourself.” She was acutely aware of her twins staring daggers at the two Carter boys. She gathered them against her legs and smoothed her hand over their hair.
“Lieutenant Colonel Egan, you always look dashing in your Sunday best.” Cass gathered her breath before Grace became acquainted with her right hook.
“Thank you, ma’am. How are you doing, Adam?” he reached to shake his hand firmly before settling Lillian back on his hip and kissing his wife on the side of the head.
“I’m good, John, nice to see you.” For all the women that fawned over John Egan, much to the nearly violent chagrin of his wife, the husbands were never worried. No one in Great Falls or Charleston or Europe had ever seen him look at a woman that wasn’t his wife.
It incensed the local gossipers that he only ever seemed to be a devoted, attentive husband and father. He had been seen taking the twins to a park by himself, the horror. Seen picking them up from preschool instead of the nanny and while his wife was at work, the scandal. And the absolute most incredibly inappropriate display of Lieutenant Colonel John Egan handling a temper tantrum on the sidewalk of Walker Street with soft words and an understanding tone. Not a scream or a yell or a rough hand to avoid the prying eyes. Ghastly.
“Well, we best get going.” Cass smiled in the way that John knew meant she was moments from kicking someone’s ass, her hands pivoting the twins away and towards the car.
“Cass, will we be seeing you at the school’s bake sale Wednesday afternoon?”
“No, Grace. I’ll be at work.” That was another thing the local gossips loved to make a topic of conversation. The fact that Mrs. Cassandra Egan worked. That she wasn’t at every bake sale or auction but somehow always managed when it was a recital or art show. They were annoyed she had priorities and boundaries and enforced them and had a partner who seemed to do everything with her in perfect tandem. They never worked against each other, always rowing in the same direction.
“Such a shame you always have to work. Especially in your condition. You really should be resting.” John felt the air turn cold and tightened his grip around his daughter, his other arm wrapping around his wife’s waist and resting on top of their precious bump.
“And what condition might that be? The blessing of another child?” He knew where her mind was going. The acrid comments from doctors that somehow Cass was to blame for Lillian’s deafness. That she hadn’t taken enough care of herself during her pregnancy or rode her horse one too many times or that having twins had ruined her birth canal and damaged their daughter during birth. “I could only hope to be in this condition more often than not, Grace. I mean, you said it yourself. My husband looks so dashing in his Sunday best.”
----
A long afternoon of lollipops and the sprinkler in the backyard and babies falling asleep around the outdoor fire with chocolate on their cheeks, turned into a slow night of baths and bedtime stories and lullabies as Cass tucked the blanket around Gale’s tiny frame.
“Mommy?” he asked groggily as she was just about to close the door.
“Yes, little love?” Cass padded back to his bedside and gently knelt down to look at his precious face, cheek squished against his pillow and stuffed animal tucked under his chin.
“I love you.”
“I love you so much, my baby. So very, very much.” She stroked his cheek gently and kissed his forehead.
“Stay together forever,” he mumbled as his eyes grew heavy and he drifted into dream land. Cass held her breath as she watched peace settle over him. Peace that their family would remain intact and together. Forever.
“I’ll do everything in my power, baby, I promise.” She gently pushed his curls off his forehead and pressed a kiss to the skin there, sealing in her promise.
Cass closed the door as gently as she could and rested her own forehead against the wood to steady her breathing for a moment. For someone who prided themselves in keeping their emotions at bay, she was having a hard time breathing against the waves crashing against her. She knew she was stronger than this. Knew that her relationship with her husband and his bond with their kids was capable of withstanding any test that was thrown at them. The point was that Cass thought she had passed enough tests for the universe to give her a break. That she had earned a modicum of normalcy in waking up next to her husband every morning and both of them raising their babies together every day. What more did they want from her in order to give her that? Cass wasn’t sure she had much left to give them.
“Gale fall asleep before you even made it out the door?” John asked as he was arranging the pillows the way he knew his wife liked. “I didn’t even have to read to little ladybug, she practically fell asleep before I even got her pajamas on her.”
“For all the sugar he consumed today, yes, he fell right asleep. Penny is probably still awake making flashlight puppets.” Ever since John had used the flashlight and his hand to act out a scene from her favorite bedtime story, Penelope had been working to perfect her craft. More than once she had been caught by her parents in the middle of the night.
“Just the fact that we created humans amazes me but the fact that they have imaginations and dreams and personalities…learning who they are is never going to get old to me,” John mused. He walked around the bed and tried to bring Cass into his arms but she was already crawling onto the bed and sliding herself under the blankets. “You’re not going to let me hold you, baby?” He looked dejected as he stood there with his arms open like he was still expecting her to fall into them.
“I need that big brain of yours to help me work through some problems, Lieutenant Colonel.” She patted his pillow next to her for emphasis. He smiled wickedly and leaned down to kiss her, crawling over her body until she was horizontal across the bed. “I love when you look at me like that. Like you can read me and understand without me having to verbalize it to you.”
“Because I can, Spook,” he hummed. His lips dropped to hers once, twice, three times before his eyes were right back on hers. “You scare me when you shut down like you did earlier, Cass. You have to let yourself feel things in order to work through them.”
“I feel things when I’m with you. When I’m with our kids. It’s the feeling of not being with you and us all not being together that I want to avoid.” His finger drifted down her cheek and left a pleasant tingle in its wake.
“It’s not forever, baby. With those three and one on the way and Butter, you will be so busy you won’t even realize I’m gone.” She sat up and held John’s face between his hands.
“Please tell me you don’t think that’s true. There will always be a hole in my chest whenever you aren’t near.”
“I know. I’m just trying to find the right words to say to soothe your ache, Cass.” She leaned down and kiss him gently. Conveying all of her love, or as much as her human form could summon, letting herself melt under his gaze.
“There’s a position in Tokyo. Mary told me about it a couple of weeks ago and I’ve been holding back on asking for it because of our little ones. All four of them.” Her hands fell to her pregnant belly and John rested his cheek on top of them. “I’m scared to fly with them that long and I’m scared of my choices fucking with another one of our-”
“Don’t finish that sentence, Cass. You did nothing wrong when it comes to Lillian. You carried her and provided for her and were put here on this earth to be exactly the mother that you are to her.” John wasn’t ashamed at the level of anger he had shown the doctors that had tried to pin this on his wife. Wasn’t ashamed that he had almost throttled them through the exam room door. She smiled through her tears and combed her fingers through his curls.
“See? I need you.”
“We need each other.” She nodded in agreement.
“And we’ll always have each other. We’ll always make sure of it.”
As she kissed John in the warmth of the lamplight, the ache in her chest was soothed but not solved. She had a plan percolating in her mind on how to do so but fears that were acting as barriers towards diving in. It was uncharted water for her. Unsure of her choices and calculating the ripple of implications they would have on her children instead of just herself or an operation. It was the first time there may be a conflict between her desires as a wife and her desires as a mother. Ultimately, she would be the only one able to reconcile them.
But there were a few things she would always know for certain. Firstly, that John Egan loved her and she loved him. Second, that she loved every inch of all of her children and always would, for all time. Third, that she had fought tooth and nail for the life that she currently had and nothing would ever be worth losing it for.
Lastly, Cassandra Ann Egan knew that she deserved happiness. And fulfillment. And peace. She had fought a war to find the stable ground she was sitting on and supposed she would fight another one to maintain it. To protect it. To preserve her little corner of the world that darkness was not allowed to touch.
They’d have to get through her first. And she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
#masters of the air#john egan fanfiction#masters of the air fanfiction#mota#john egan x oc#john egan#john egan x reader#cass and bucky#callum turner#masters of the air fanfic#john egan fanfic#mota fanfic#callum turner fanfiction#callum turner fanfic
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mayprompts2024 #12, family
The Bed Shop Boys are taking a break today! I had an idea about the prompt that did not fit into the bed shop AU at all, so have this
221b "Family Day"
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It’s family day in Rosie’s primary school and the children are expected to bring their parents for a meet-and-greet with the teachers. Rosie’s best friend Charlotte has two mothers and Rosie brought her two fathers. They had bonded quickly over their unusual family backgrounds but none of the other children in their class or the teachers really cared about that. Every constellation of family was considered fine.
Rosie was at Sherlock’s side when Charlotte arrived crying. Pointing to a haughty looking woman, Charlotte sniffed, “She said two mothers is not a true family.”
Rosie has always been protective like John and clever like Sherlock and hates that Charlotte is sad. With Charlotte and Sherlock in tow, Rosie stomps up to the obnoxious woman who is bragging to a group of parents about how lovely her son is.
Rosie plants herself in front of the woman, arms akimbo, declaring sternly for all to hear. “Family means caring for each other, belonging and love. It’s not about having one mama and one papa! Dad says people who say this are stupid.”
The woman gives Sherlock a disapproving look. “I think your dad is rude.”
Sherlock smiles sweetly. “I’m Papa.”
John appears behind Sherlock’s back.
“I’m Dad”, he says and gives her his deadliest grin, clearly transporting what he thinks of her.
Stupid bitch!
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tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at
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Rise
621 words / Prompt: Family
Today’s mini-fic is a little bit that didn’t make it into The Last Envoy. After the war, Sherlock returns and visits Mummy.
1946
Mycroft told me that Mummy was failing a bit, but that was not what I saw when I looked through the garden door and saw her snipping flowers to put in a vase. She looked like the woman I’d last seen four years ago, before I went to Oxford, still tall and straight, graceful and beautiful.
Four years seemed a lifetime. Years filled with separation and waiting, spent in places only war can create.
“Happy Birthday, Mummy,” I said, smiling.
She turned then, and I could see that her hair was whiter, her movements slower. She lay down the scissors and put her arms around me, still holding two roses. I felt her hands tremble against my back.
“My boy,” she whispered. “My dearest darling.”
She knew me, but in her mind I was always the son she’d lost, so many years ago. A bright little boy she’d called Sherlock, as well as the man Mycroft had named after that child.
“How are you?” I could see a brightness in her eyes and was glad that her mind was still active.
“I’m fine,” she replied, holding me at arm’s length now and examining me with that sharp gaze. “You look surprisingly well. Doctor Watson has been taking good care of you.”
“He has. Switzerland is a very healthy place to live. Up in the mountains, the air is crystal clear. I’m sure I’ll miss it and will need to visit again some day, but for now I’m happy to be back.”
We sat, and Rose brought us tea.
“Mycroft told me about your experiences. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It’s heart-breaking that people can do such things.”
I did not speak; a question should not be answered until it is asked.
“How is John?” she asked.
“He’s fine. He would have come with me, but he had to be at the hospital today.”
“He’s a good man. I’m glad you have him.”
“I’m very lucky.”
We sipped our tea in silence. I could hear the bees humming in her flowers. Closing my eyes, I recalled the first time I saw bees travelling between the flowers in Mycroft’s garden. I imagined a day when I could no longer sit in Mummy’s garden, watching the bees and talking to her.
As if she could hear my thoughts, she smiled and spoke to me.
“I’m seventy-five years old today, Sherlock. With luck, I may have several more birthdays.”
“I hope so, Mummy.”
She gave me that familiar look, the one that means she wants to share something personal, words for my ears alone. “You once described to me how the Beta view time as an arrow, always travelling up, leaving the past behind. It’s a good way to look at ageing, which often feels like loss. I’ve decided that as the years pile up, I will rise above them, into the future.”
In my mind I sometimes felt myself looking back as my ship moved up and away from Beta, my home planet, until it sparkled, a tiny point of light in the trackless black universe. I remembered everything about my home, every one of the people who loved me. They were moving quickly into the past, growing smaller as I looked back. I was flying away from them, but still too far away from my destination to see the life I would have on a planet that couldn’t be seen from Beta. In my memories, they were always looking up, watching me leave them.
That is how it would be for this woman who had become my second mother. In my memories, she would always live.
One day, I would be a Memory too.
I smiled. “We all rise.”
—
For a bit of context, an excerpt from The Last Envoy, Chapter 2:
1938
“How old are you?” I asked.
She raised her chin, a sign of pride. “I am sixty-seven years old.” She leaned forward and patted my knee. I wasn’t sure what this meant. “You’re a lovely boy, Sherlock. I want to teach you something important.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“Women don’t like being asked their age,” she said. “I don’t mind because I’m an old woman and you are a lovely young man. You don’t know all of the social nuances, but you’re a quick learner.”
“Why do women not like to be asked their age?” It seemed to me that any human ought to be proud of living so long.
She sighed. “It’s a bit complicated. Men don’t mind saying their age. You must understand that the role of women in our society is to produce children and raise them. For that, we have to project youth and good heredity, as evidenced by our beauty. A woman hates to think that she is no longer useful, so we continue to foster the illusion that we are still young and beautiful, even when it is a ridiculous fantasy.”
“Why do you think you are not useful?” I asked. “Women are not just breeding machines; they have brains. You had an important job; you’re obviously an intelligent woman who would do a better job running the country than most men.”
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I do not disagree. But these are the roles that nature has given us and society requires. Perhaps one day, we will rise above nature and society.”
@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes
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do you have favourites aus or fics within the fandom?
Hello!
When it comes to AUs I am naturally more biased towards my own XD I don't have all the corners of Tumblr explored, so all my favourites are ones in the general sense (as in, I don't know their original creator)
I always like the ones where John Dory comes back to take care for Branch; another fun one is when it explores a different brother being captured by Velvet and Veneer (or even Poppy); Branch getting adopted by a different tribe is another fun one too!
I've seen AUs like Brotherhood!AU, Borrower!AU and Cult!Branch AU thrown around in the Trolls tag, but to be honest I had troubles finding more details in one coherent post, and all of them seem rather... dark? XD Tbh I am not really a fan of AUs where the Brozone bros come up as a villains or villain-adjacent pff
I definitelly have some fic favourites rn, though I read so many and several I didn't even bookmarked- but I will share the ones I like the most! (Some fics, while having a good idea and trying their best are kinda lacking in the execution, so I don't include those)
All of them are on AO3, so, in no particular order:,
No Strings Attached by Spritzy (Completed)
Spritzy is fairly active Trolls fics writer, and I'd consider them a good one, so you will see their name again XD
This fic is more a collection of oneshots, about whatever honestly; it's a mix of mostly World Tour related stuff
Fluffy Love by Spritzy (Completed)
Again, sort of collection of oneshots, but hardcore Broppy XD The premise being that the Pop Trolls act more... wild? And have both fur, paws and tails (something I really enjoy myself pf)
Spritzy seems to be adding to this fic sometimes, as it strikes their fancy, so it's always a pleasant surprise to see it pop up in my updated bookmarks!
Elapse by Dulltoned (Completed)
A tiny fic that is about the Brozone brothers trying to coexist together and heal from their breakup XD it goes with various levels of success, and Branch is very much not coping pff
It Runs In The Family by Localamblogus (Completed)
In addition to Floyd, Branch gets captured by Velvet and Veneer as well (JD at first tried to come up with ways to solve Floyd's capture on his own and Velvet got too tired of waiting and thus tried to lure in another brother with a fake letter)
Looking for Branch, JD finally arrives in Pop Village- naturally, Poppy enlists herself to help, and is not impressed by the elder Brozone brothers as the adventure goes on XD
You Are Half Of Me Now by Localamblogus (Completed)
Now THIS fic is probably my top favourite XD Set during the time where Creek betrayed Poppy and the rest of the Snack Pack, an attempt at escape fails spectacularly, causing Chef to notice Branch's lack of colours; now sepparated from the rest, even after the other trolls escape with Bridget's help, Poppy is determined to leave no troll behind. Includes fledgling Groppy/Broppy feels, and Cooper is Poppy's little adopted brother and the sibling feels are so real (A+ honestly), and Creek gets what he deserves XD Can't recommend this one enough.
Eldest and Youngest by TheMiraculousMat (Main Fic Completed)
A collection, a classic 'JD returns to care for Branch'; a good execution of the concept and entertaining read, though I am now reading another fic (ongoing) that is able to execute this AU even better XD Still, I do recommend reading this one!
Clocks (Home Where I Wanted to Go) by Espionages (Incomplete)
Another 'Branch Gets Captured' fic, but this time it's just poor him all alone in Velvet and Veneer's grasp; naturally, Poppy gets very concerned- and when a letter adressed to a Troll named 'Floyd' arrives, she makes it her business to find the recipient- and in the process finds out where Branch has gone.
The fic itself sits on 17 chapters out of 18, and havent been updated for a month XD a shame, but here's hoping the final chapter will eventually get posted, cant do nothing but cross our fingers!
Breathe Again by Blade_That_Was_Broken (Incomplete)
Possibly the only Human AU that you will see on this list (as I am not that big of a fan of those- it's hard for me to read a 'mundane' retelling with the characters, as they seem to lose most of their magical whimsy when people do that) but this is perhaps one AU that I am very invested into (it does help the writer is really excellent, and you will see more of their work on this list as well)
The premise is that JD had been kicked out of the house by his parents when he was 18, and fought hard and legal battle to get his brothers in his custody. It is more complicated than that naturally, but this is the start, and the family feels are real- especially with baby Branch, who JD had no idea existed until a moment ago XD It currently sits at 6 chapters out of planned 8, and is being a part of a series, so hopefully more content for this AU will be coming!
I'm Still Here by Blade_That_Was_Broken (Main Fics Complete)
A chunky 4-part fic series, where JD returns to get baby Branch after a brief stint in the Neverglades, and then takes him into the wilderness with him, figuring he can keep him more safe than if he stayed in the Troll Tree. Of course, tragedy strucks, and suddenly older and grey Branch appears in the new Troll Village, without his brother. I will leave it at that, but it's basically retelling of the Troll series with this little twist in narrative!
Smoke and Starlight by Blade_That_Was_Broken (Complete)
Branch still deals with that nasty little voice in his head that is convinced all his brothers will leave him, but that doesn't stop him about inquiring about his parents, and JD is his best bet. This fic explores more about the brothers relationships and more about John Dory and his life in the past 20 years- it is very Brozone friendly fic and the family feels are of the charts, I definitelly recommend!
I'll Never Fall, Unless it's You I'm Falling For by Dinoo_Saur (Complete?)
A series of oneshots, at this time only two of them, about fledgling Groppy/Broppy. I assume the writer will add to it eventually, once they feel inspired, but even those two that are here are good read!
Shattered Pieces by Icedarsha (Incomplete)
Aftermath of TBT and the brothers are *baaad* at this whole brother thing XD really kinda fumbling all around, but we love them for it. The fic currently sits at 15 chapters, and haven't been updated since April 20th 2024, so we will see where the writer plans to take us
Everything Stays (Right Where You Left It) by Venusperia (Incomplete)
Poor Poppy has been taken by Velvet and Veneer and she is NOT having a good time at all; in the meantime, Branch returns to his manic grey self, as he is forced to realize that he might have to try and find his brothers as the only way to shatter a diamond is Perfect Family Harmony- and sets out to do so, with Barb as his best buddy for the ride (and perhaps his handler, as Branch is just a trigger away from jumping his brothers' throats)
This fic currently sits at 15 chapters, last updated April 22nd 2024- I feel kinda impatient for this one as Poppy is really having a shitty time, to the point she doesnt even fight to keep her optimism up, and Branch is just spiralling
I'll see you when I fall asleep by Idontsleepidaydream (Complete?)
Series of mostly oneshots, set after events of TBT, explorations of Brozone relationship and feels, mostly focused on JD honestly, who has more issues that a rabid cat in a bag
Your Grace by Mrct (Incomplete)
A series about how JD returned to the Troll Tree to care for Baby Branch, and when the Trolls made their triumphant escape, King Peppy perished in the effort. John, instinctivelly tucking little baby Poppy in his hair in the chaos of it all, suddenly gets stuck as acting regent, much to his confusion, unease and resignation XD It currently on has a 3-chapter long fic but I assume the writer plans to expand on it, which is why I recommend the series whole
I Wanna Find A Home by Isabel3710 (Incomplete)
Grey little Branch decided that he is too much of a burden among the trolls of his own Tribe, and figures it is best to leave and find somewhere else to be a less of a bother. His feet leads him to the Lonesome Flats into the arms of young Delta Dawn, who cannot on good conscience allow this poor little trolling to struggle, even though he is probably a Pop Troll (And honestly, seeing the mess he is, all the better he left them and found the Country Tribe in her opinion)
Currently sitting at 3 chapters, last updated at April 30th 2024, I cant honestly wait to see Branch find the family he deserves <3
Weightless by Sunfox (Incomplete)
When Chef attacks, both Poppy and Peppy gets captured along with the Snack Pack, leaving the Pop Tribe leaderless. With contingency plans in motions, they decide to evacuate, but Sky Toronto knows he has to let Branch knows what happened- either in effort to convince him to come along or to know to stay put in his bunker.
Branch instead decided he cannot on good conscience let any trolls get eaten and sets out to save Poppy and the rest from certain doom.
Currently sitting at 2 out of 3 chapters planned, and last updated only few days ago, it is honestly more of a 'snack' than a full sized fic XD But I enjoy the exploration of the events
Birdie by TurnedWorm (Incomplete)
Clay managed to happed upon grey Branch just as the Trolls were escaping through the tunnels and now reunited, off with the (future) Putt Putt trolls they go; fic that explores the very early struggles of survival of the sepparated tribe, while Clay tries to be the best guardian for Branch as well. Currently sitting at 3 chapters and sadly last updated in march, but hope is still holding that the writer will continue it XD
Torrent by ASamwich (Incomplete)
Grey Branch is having a very bad time; nearly drowning in his bunker when storm caused his seals to break through and flood his lower levels, he is then found by concerned Poppy in the midst of battling a serious infection. With his bunker pretty much inhabitable right now and him being ill, he is forced to accept help and dragged kicking and screaming into friendship XD
Currently sitting at 5 chapters and last updated at the beginning of April, it is one of those 'I hope it will get continued eventually' fics pff
Field of Forgetmenots by EmpressGeek (Incomplete)
A planned series probably spanning multiple fic (the first one sitting at 4 chapters and complete), it explores a sudden growing sibling relationship between Grey Branch and Keith, a little oddball trolling who seems to be fitting badly among his peers. Very sweet with hint of trauma on Branch's part, and I am at the edge of my seat, waiting for more XD
Dereliction by Jellfish (Incomplete)
This is, in my opinion, THE fic about John Dory returning to take care for Branch (After Rosiepuff's death and after the escape from the Troll Tree)
Thinking he will find a happy little trolling, JD instead finds a little malnourished neglected scrappy thing, and is not only horrified and angry, but also terribly guilty about ever leaving. Currently sitting at 36 chapters and updated fairly regularly, I really cannot recommend this one enough!
Rewinding our Fate by Trollsbuzz (Incomplete)
Perhaps the only time travel fic written with some style and quality that makes it readable XD It is rushing through the Broppy rather fast in my opinion, and some things feel a bit OOC, buuuut it's nothing major and it is enjoyable read! Currently sitting at 41 chapters and being updated fairly regularly, so here's hoping it will continue so!
Now, the remaining 3 Fanfic recommendations are all Anonymous and Incomplete (Sadly seems the authors didn't want to be associated with writing for Trolls franchise but oh well)
A Litte Winter Miracle
Grey Branch suddenly and to his horror finds abandoned egg in the snow, and overcome with protective urges is unable to just pass it along to anyone else. Reconnecting with Kismet, he is slowly settling into his sudden parent role (in secret from most other Trolls, including Poppy and the Snack Pack). Adding to bit of feral behaviour from Branch, it makes for a very easy read- currently sitting at 24 chapters and last updated at April 26th, it is one I am really hoping that will continue XD
I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home
Kid Grey Branch got accidentally mistaken for a rock tribe trolling by teenage Barb, and hauled of to the angler buses before anyone could even blink XD With a nice portrayal of autistic Branch, it's one of THE 'accidental sibling acquisitions', but Barb can't complain as she got the awesomest little brother out of the deal. Currently sitting at 14 chapters and last updated at April 24th, it gives me some hope it will continue XD
Stuck With You
Instead of the whole Velvet and Veneer plotline, we get Cashmere, who strives to be a more of a Country Pop singing sensation- and John Dory and Delta Dawn happens to be her unfortunate victims. Featuring miserable John Dory who, after 20 years, doesnt hold much hopes that anyone would even care he is gone, and rather furious Delta Dawn who can't believe she got stuck with a Pop Troll and is determined to escape. Do I sense a future romance brewing...? (I sure hope so!)
Currently at 3 chapters and last updated on May 1st, I am fairly optimistic this one is ongoing!
So those are my recommendations! Hopefully I did not mess up the links but you can always search for them manually XD
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Cethair (Bit 6)
Óen | Cethair - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6
Wherein we learn some more about Scott in this universe.
I promise to get back to Gordon shortly. Scott just needed some background sorted out.
Also, off screen, poor Virgil is a mess, so we will be getting back to him soon, too.
@onereyofstarlight claimed I was a meanie after her readthrough. She's probably right. Sorry Scotty. ::hugs both of you::
I hope you enjoy this bit.
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When Scott O’Treasaigh was born, his father lost his dragon.
It was a family tale around the fire, usually related by his father with much laughter. He could see that fond spark in the Flaithri’s eyes, how proud he was of his eldest son.
He would relate how Óen fell for the boy the moment he was born. How the dragon ignored Jeff and wandered around the village following the toddler.
Scott, of course, loved the great night fury. Earnest toddler conversations with a silver and black head paying attention to every word.
As Scott grew and his brothers appeared in the tale, he couldn’t deny that he loved Óen with everything he was.
But Óen was his father’s dragon.
When Virgil brought home an injured young rumblehorn and nursed it back to health, it was obvious his younger brother had found himself a dragon. And Dá was everything Virgil could dream of. Under his care and that of the family, Dá recovered well and grew ever so strong. She eventually became the biggest rumblehorn ever seen, her iridescent green hide glittering with health.
But Scott didn’t find a dragon. He had Óen.
But Óen was his father’s.
When John was honoured with the Matriarch’s child, everything changed. Their uncle proved bitter and wrong, and before long, they were fleeing across the sea.
Scott was young at the time, far from his manhood still, but he remembered the long stretches of ocean, the beat of Óen’s wings, his warm breath beneath him.
His father holding him tight.
It had been a slow journey. Dá had still been young, as had Virgil, and had not the strength of the older dragons.
But they made it, and ventured into a whole new world full of strangers and strange customs.
This new land did not know of dragons and there was fear, but his father was strong, as was their grandfather and grandmother and their new people grew to love the dragons as much as they.
Scott grew up and into his own strength. He flew with Óen as often as he could, but it wasn’t until Scott was taken that the decision was made.
He hadn’t been with Óen at the time, and his father blamed that fact for all that followed.
As a member of the ruling family he had martial duty to the clan. Scott took to the initial training like a bird to the sky. He did his family proud, winning the tustles and tourneys enough to take the lead in prowess and skill.
But this was not without opposition. While out on a distant patrol, he was targeted by the dishonourable and betrayed into capture.
They took him far away and held him for too many days. It was there he was taught the ill in the world and he still bore the scars of that teaching.
It was Óen who retrieved him.
His father often related the chaos the dragon created when Scott did not return that night. The night fury was inconsolable.
Of course, the family took to the air. Dá and a determined Virgil discovered the tracks and traced the culprits to a valley on the far side of the Island.
His father was both proud and a little exasperated at what happened next. He had gathered his men, prepared to attack, their party nestled under a ridge halfway up the other side of the hill.
But Óen had left them all behind, taking flight without command and disappearing into the valley.
Running through the damp foliage after him, their father told of the bright flashes as he reached the crest of the hill. The yelling, screaming and the roar of an infuriated dragon.
Óen returned shortly, a weak and injured Scott in his forearms. The dragon’s whimpers breaking every heart that heard them.
Scott was taken home and Máthair Chriona saw to his long road to wellness again.
But their father always, always, recited what he saw once he reached the place where his son had been held.
There was nothing. Nothing more than burnt bones and rubble. Whatever had stood had been destroyed by fury.
From that point on, Óen was Scott’s dragon. His father made sure of it.
Scott had often protested that the Flaith needed his dragon and that this wasn’t right, but his father would not bend.
Óen was Scott’s dragon.
Óen seemed to agree. But then Óen apparently had decided Scott was his human anyway.
As for Scott, it felt ever so right…and so wrong. Óen had saved his father from the Great Western Sea. If Óen hadn’t then, Scott would not exist.
The dragon thwapped him gently across the head whenever Scott mentioned it.
But it was now, here in the darkness of illness, that the truth fought with him.
If his father had been in the sky with Óen, not on the ground, standing between Gaat and John, then Gaat wouldn’t have had such an easy target.
His father would not be…
And Gordon wouldn’t have had to…
If Scott had been there…
But he hadn’t and neither had Óen.
Because Óen was Scott’s dragon.
-o-o-o-
TBC
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#scott tracy#jeff tracy#thunderdragons#nuttyfic#its getting written ever so slowly#this universe is hard work#but I'll get there#thank you for you patience and support
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Relationship: Thomas Shelby x Mafia Boss!Female Reader
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Warnings: cussing, death, major character death, secrets, lies, no Y/N mentioned, she is only given a last name, badass reader, lots of lore, slow burn, this chapter is a little rushed.
NOTE: this is basically just a Prologue, but if enough people like it then ill continue this :)
I believe this would be a perfect fit for readers theme song, for this story. Hence where the title comes from, as well.
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Prologue: The Greeting
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“Where is Tommy?”
That particular voice is very well recognized in this area. It has a stern and motherly tone with strict trauma behind it. The voice is so familiar that anyone who hears it from a distance of a mile away would know exactly who it belongs to. That voice belongs to none other than Polly Gray, the aunt of the Shelby brothers and sisters. Polly is known to be the intelligent one in the family, along with her nephew, Thomas Shelby.
Anyone who knows Polly knows to keep themselves a few feet back. She’s one woman no one wants to mess with—Thomas Shelby’s protection added to the threat.
“I don’t know,” John Shelby, second youngest brother, replied to his aunt with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “Fucker went off on his own a few days ago without saying a bloody word.”
A woman sat not too far from the Shelby and Gray. Her job is quite simple. Someone who counts the money in the Betting Shop, amongst other people. So far, she’s been working there for a few months now. Never has she spoken to the Shelby’s much, besides when she first met them to get the job.
But she wasn’t looking for talk. Her bright orbs often glanced over the shop, studying each and every person who belonged to the Peaky Blinders. And most importantly, she keeps her eyes on the important people, such as the Shelby family members and their allies.
Her back was facing John and Polly as they spoke, due to her desk being in a certain place, but she didn’t care. She doesn’t have to look at them to know what they’re talking about.
”What’s the trouble?” John finally asks after a beat of silence. Knowing her his whole life, he can't miss the unusual way she paced and looked a bit frantic. She’s worried about something, and if that's the case, then it ain’t good for the business or the family.
“Sullivan,” she answers him a bit harshly. “Tommy is supposed to meet him today, and he’s not fucking back.”
The woman listening in on the conversation raises her brows, pausing her writing and she tunes in. This was very important.
John nods absentmindedly, showing he’s listening. “Alright,” he stresses, rubbing his chin in thought. “Alright. Well, send Arthur.”
”Fucking Arthur?” Polly asks in disbelief. “You can’t be fucking serious. Tommy would have his shit if he knew Arthur took his place.”
”Well, what the fuck do you want me to do?”
The woman had already tuned out their voices as she brought herself into deep thought. She takes a moment to think properly; her plans, her ideas, her past business. And within a few minutes, a wicked smirk plays on her lips.
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Light chatter and curses echoed in the small, empty church. The cloudy day had refused to shine light into the holy building, only candles lit in the most important places.
”What the fuck is taking him so long?” A man curses, pacing back and forth in the candlelight. His few body guards stood around, guns in their hands for preparation.
His lips part once more to complain about the tardiness of his new ally, but the sound of the door to the church creaking open makes him pause. Sullivan tilts his head, focused on the new arrival. Although it was too hard for him to see, the darkness took over the corners. “Thomas Shelby?” He calls out, guessing who it could be. “I don’t got all fucking night, eh? I’ve got things to do. Business to take care of,” he boasts, annoyed that his ally was late.
”Well, that’s no good,” a feminine voice breaks the silence, one Sullivan knows well.
Sullivan flinches back in surprise, pointing a finger at the darkness. “No, no…” he mutters in disbelief. “H-How the fuck did you know I was here?!”
“Come on, Jordan,” she teases lightly, slowly stepping into the light. Sullivan takes another step back. It’s her, for sure. The clothes say it all. The only woman to wear such material, such style. Much like the Peaky Blinders. “You’ve done me dirty. You think I’d just let you go so easily?”
”I said,” he yells out, anger and fear taking over his form. “How the fuck did you know I was here?!”
She takes another step forward, a threat. And that was it for Sullivan. “Fucking shoot her!” He demands, his bodyguards doing exactly as they are told.
Guns fire and men fall. It ended within seconds, with Sullivan’s men down in a heartbeat.
Sullivan watches in fear as two women come out from the darkness, dressed the same as the woman he fears the most. Members from her gang. Guns held tightly and confidently in their hands, pointing directly at Sullivan. She didn’t even have to lift a finger.
Sullivan doesn't say a word as he turns and flees, running through the back door of the church and into the dirty streets. She merely laughs, trudging off her long trench coat and handing it to one of the women standing by her side. “A chase?” She chuckles, rolling her shoulders. “How fun.” With that, she starts the chase.
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The run didn’t last long, to her disappointment. The man was down with one simple trip on the uneven gravel, hitting the ground hard. She jumps over a crate that was in the way, and stops to study the scene.
A smile grows on her lips as she pulls out her gun from her holster, pointing it right at him.
Sullivan’s words are slurred together fearfully as he begs to leave her alone, to let him live. He stumbles to push himself back up and eventually gives up, staying on the ground with his hands up in surrender.
“Where’s the money, Jordan?” She hisses, cocking the gun back.
”P-Please—please let me go, I-I swear I’ll pay you back all that I stole, Miss Rose,” he begs, “I-I’ll give you even more than that!”
She takes a moment to observe his fearful state. The way his body shook. The way he cowards with the gun being pointed right at his head. She reveled in all of it.
She wastes no more time putting just a little bit of pressure on the trigger, the bullet flying. Sullivan jerks back as the bullet goes straight through his head, and his body falls back.
Relief didn’t come as much as she hoped. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end—A feeling she was being watched. Her hand holding the gun lowers as her orbs turn, finding none other than Thomas Shelby, Arthur Shelby, and John Shelby standing there with their guns pointed right at her.
A sigh leaves her lips as she puts the gun back in its holster, pulling a smile at the boys. “Apologies,” she says, noticing the shocked expressions they hold, “I didn’t know I had an audience.”
#kates blabs#x reader#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x you#arthur shelby#john shelby#polly gray#mafia boss reader#female reader#mafia boss#mafia#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#fan fiction#badass reader#Spotify
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As I slog my way through season twelve I am finding that I Do Not Like Mary Winchester As A Person, and this is a problem because I am writing a fic wherein John Winchester is a nuanced and complex person and not a card-carrying mustache-twirling evil villain and quite apart from character demonization not being particularly interesting anyway, I do not think having a Mary who doesn't much like her kids and kind of wishes she'd never had them would make the vibe of the fic hit the way I want it to
#i'm being careful with her characterization i'm just having to use different muscles with her#because the META of mary is interesting at least#she was pulled back from the grave as a gift for a son who she last saw when he was four years old#her sons are grown men who lived their lives as hunters#her apple pie life ended and it was her fault#john her gentle and adoring husband became a hunter to avenge her#and put her kids through hell as a result#their kids#and on top of that we also learn that she never stopped hunting#she was still hunting even after she had dean#maybe after she had sam#maybe she was hunting all the way to the end of her life#behind her family's back behind /john's/ back#what if she'd told him the truth#would things be different then#what if he hadn't needed to search for those answers#and all of that is interesting on its own but even moreso when juxtaposed with the mary who has been haunting the narrative#the mary who gave up hunting for her apple pie life so she could raise her boys to be normal#because she never wanted any of this#it's interesting!!! it has so much potential!!#mary herself is just So Very Annoying to me#she shares a lot of her interests with dean but when it comes to nature#she's far more like the careful and calculating sam#the one who measures risks and is willing to do the dreadful algebra#and again: all interesting characterization#but also very ANNOYING characterization#anyway point is i'm working on it but it does get frustrating#probably gonna send her off on the road once everything in the fic settles down so i don't have to write her more than occasionally
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I just want to talk about the nursery being painted and the purpose of the Tomb to be without a door. Anastasia had a family - and putting to the side the pact with Alecto there's some implicit symbolism to John asking for the workers of the Ninth to die constructing the Tomb with that image of new life. (Still can't articulate my disbelief that he went and didn't think that asking Anastasia of all people, The one who lost her cavalier to him, would have problems)
Yeah. Especially finding this out about the Ninth, where nurseries becoming tombs is a thing we're sensitive about.
On one level we've always known Anastasia had a family. Like, we know she's Harrow's direct ancestor. You can't be heir to the line of someone who never had children. But the nursery.... Yeah. It really hammers it in. Her friends painted a nursery mint green for her children.
And now it's a tomb.
#that's what the Anastasian is now after all#you're right there's really Something there#I've noticed something in John I think ties into this thematically that I really hope Kiriona is going to help us explore#John doesn't believe in a future#I said in my last Anastasia meta that Anastasia outsmarted John by making herself immortal in a way he couldn't understand#she left behind something she created to outlast her#John hasn't built anything to outlast himself and he doesn't think of the future at all#he mourns the past and fights like hell to live in an eternal present where nothing ever ends#you know#immortality#and a part of that—maybe most of that—is about despair#even way back before the world ended even before he had magic powers he didn't think of a future#I think he couldn't imagine one#and like. I get it dude#don't imagine the future and maybe it can't hurt you#how many people have you heard saying they don't want children because it seems cruel or irresponsible#they can't imagine forcing someone to live in the world they see coming#climate anxiety is fucking everywhere and for a lot of people in our generation—John's generation—it's coalesced into despair#but Anastasia did imagine a future#she had a family#and now John has a daughter but he still can't imagine a future for her#she's just as dead and eternal as the world he loved so deeply he killed it rather than watch it die#what did Gideon say when she saw the First? it had the look of a picked-over body but hot damn what a beautiful corpse#that's gonna be you baby girl#the final expression of the art of the nine houses#John gave up on hope ages ago#so it doesn't really surprise me at all that he still asked the builders to die in the tomb#the locked tomb#ntn spoilers#nona the ninth
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I think you're either team ghost x civilian wife! reader where the rest of the 141 have no idea you exist or team they know and it's a very familial like and I'm the first one
simon who does everything he can to keep you his secret, even more so when your family starts to grow. when he's finished with a mission he will spend the next 48hrs barely sleeping, moving around to make sure no one is on his tail before making it home into your arms.
it's not that he doesn't trust the 141, but you and your family are far too precious to trust anyone with. you've heard the stories of all of the other men, are sure you would need only one look at them to be able to guess which man belongs to the many names he's told you over the years, but you're aware they don't know that you exist.
that on the rare nights simon ventures out to meet them for a sole pint between missions they think he's holed up in some bachelor flat back in manchester, perhaps with a string of women that come and go, but they couldn't be more wrong with his wedding band hidden under his gloves when he's home like now or safely in his drawer at home when he's on missions.
and it's not that he doesn't wish he could shout about you from the rooftops. everyone in your town knows that the big scary man whose face is always conveniently hidden in the shadows has a missus at home who brings your chubby babies to the toddlers and drops your kids off at school.
but the 141 don't know about you, not until enough time has passed since simon retired to consider it safe enough. simon with his aching joints and trembling hands, the ringing in his right ear and back pain that requires at least two, hour long soaks in the bath a week. simon the husband and dad who has butterfly clips in his hair and at least one nail painted from the game of hairdressers his oldest likes to play, a bright pink plaster on his knee to match the youngest, and one hand on your belly at all times with the third (and final in your opinion but simon is working on that) of your brood.
simon who is out for drinks with the 141 three years after retirement and slips and says something about moving house and the hassle, the rest of the men deciding they will help and so simon decides it's finally time. but he doesn't forewarn them about his family before the day, standing in the garden of your packed up house that your family has outgrown while the men stumble out of the van they hired only to stop dead in their tracks when they see you.
you who is waving in the doorway, a toddler on your hip and looking like you're about to pop while another child - maybe six or seven by their guesses - swings from simon's arm, with a dog jumping up paws on his chest. and like the man he is he doesn't explain, just jerks his chin towards the piles of boxes and empty moving van he's started to pack.
"think you can start making a move on that?"
a few hours later and still no explanation from simon, he's in the first van packed with all the furniture and bigger boxes with you and the kids and the guys follow behind, slack jawed and still confused as they stay speechless until they pull up at the new house.
they're still staring at you as you pile out of the first van and you're shaking your head, elbowing simon in the ribs and muttering a "put them out their misery, Si" and they swear they almost drop dead when they see how gently he handles you, an arm around your waist and a kiss to your temple as he guides you and the two gremlins towards the guys while the dog starts sniffing around its new home.
"fellas, this is the missus and kids," he says and you roll your eyes, holding out your hand towards them and introducing yourself by name, adding on the kids who beam up shyly at these strangers.
that seems to shake them out of it. john takes your hand first, shaking and turning to simon with a "you hide her away in case we try to steal her from you?" he winks and you and only grins wider when simon's hand on your hip seems to squeeze tighter. gaz and soap are bending down and coaxing your two girls out of their shyness, complimenting their light up trainers and asking if it makes them run faster before cheering them on as they run to the front door and back.
they set you up on a fold out chair and do all the heavy lifting as you point them and the boxes in their arms to their correct rooms. later, Simon treats them to dinner (a takeaway) and has you sitting on his knee with the girls in bed and for the first time he spends a night with the guys telling you stories of Simon "Ghost" Riley.
"they're lyin' love," he'll mumble in your ear at every story, "don't believe them do ya?" his hand strokes up your back, squeezing your neck.
"yeah, babe, believe you," you say while smiling at the men around your new dining room table, men who have saved your husbands life more times than he can count, and you find yourself curling closer to simon because of that
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon riley x female reader
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Price had a young girlfriend and did not tell anybody until he decided to get married...
He probably didn't tell them until the night before the wedding…He asked them to come over for a little celebration and everyone expected a middle-aged woman. But when they saw a girl in her mid-20s opening the door with Price they were shocked
Soap probably even asked if she's his stepdaughter LOL
Hey, love!! 💗💗
I wrote you a little something...
I hope you like it 💗
❤️Mr. & Mrs. Price❤️
Masterlist
They were having a pint at a pub close to base when he told them.
“I'm getting married next Saturday, you have the weekend free, so drop by so I can introduce you to the missus.”
Now, Ghost wasn't surprised he didn't know about his captain having a girlfriend, let alone a relationship serious enough to talk about marriage. What surprised Ghost was that neither Soap nor Gaz knew about it.
“Married?!” Gaz asked, loud enough to make some people turn their heads.
Price furrows his eyebrow, surprised by the reaction as if he had just told them about what he's having from breakfast.
“I didnae ken ye had a pretty bird waiting for ye at home, Captain!” Soap says, just as loud.
“Yeah, I have for a couple of years now.” Price simply answers, shrugging his shoulders as he takes a sip.
“A couple of years?!” The three men ask in unison like a bad comedic joke.
A chain of questions starts to unravel, curiosity for the mysterious woman pouring out; but Price waves his hand shutting them up. “No point in that, you are meeting her this weekend, easier that way”
They begrudgingly agree, keeping to themselves the mental image of the possible woman. She must be around Price's age, so between 40 and 50 years old; knowing how little the man likes to go out they probably met at work so she must be military too. Stern woman.
Price tells them that is something minor, the close family and a bunch of friends; that they can join at the reception at his house and to dress nicely.
“No ghost mask.” He chastises the man pointing at him. “I don't want work involved, alright?”
During the week until the wedding, they keep thinking about her, about how she must look like, her personality, her age, her eye colour.
“What do you think she'll look like?”
“In my mind, she's like Laswell… but being into men.”
And out of every possibility and different mental image, the last thing they expected was the pretty thing that opened the door for them on Saturday.
Pretty little thing, around 25 years old, with the kindest smile on her face even when looking at the three giants on her doorframe, flowy white dress, little hair strands framing her cute face with the rest of it gathered up in an intricate updo in the back hold together with shiny pins and a silky bow.
“Oh, you must be John's friends.” You say, voice sweet as an angel. “Please, come in, don't just stand there. I'm gonna go get him, be back in a second”
You step back, holding the door open for them, inviting them in and once inside you close the door, walking past them to reach their captain who is looking in the opposite direction, talking to somebody else.
“That must be the stepdaughter… right?” Soap asks what all of them are thinking.
They stare as you walk up to Price, placing your hand on his lower back making him turn to look at you; a wide smile appearing immediately. He leans forward, his arm moving behind your shoulder and his hand keeping your jaw in place as he kisses you.
Lips crashing against yours, closing his eyes and letting his tongue into your mouth tasting the champagne you were drinking just a moment ago. A passionate, sloppy kiss that would make a maiden blush at the impropriety of it even for the newlyweds.
“Mate, I sure fucking hope she's not.” Gaz answers after a moment.
The two of you finally pull back, telling Price about his friends arriving and he looks behind you to see them. He smiles, not as wide as when he looked at you, and gives you a quick peck before walking to the door.
“Welcome, lads. Thank you for coming.” He says simply, crossing his arms and looking proud. You appear from behind him, hand resting on his arm slightly leaning to his side.
“Do you want anything to drink? To eat?” You ask softly, love pouring out of Price's eyes as he looks down on you.
“I'll help you.” Ghost says, a curl of his lips you could identify as a smile if you wanted to. And once the captain is left with the sergeants, the attack starts.
“How does an old churl like you manages to get a pretty thing like her?”
“Where do you even meet a doll like her?”
“How many years have you exactly been dating for?”
Ghost clears his throat when he turns around the corner on his way back, with you chirping on his side about how happy you are to finally meet them. He has a more natural smile on his face now, clearly infected with your enthusiasm.
Price finally introduces you to them, exchanging everyone's name. You hug both the sergeants and shake Ghost's hand, the man glad that you made the observation of his lack of appreciation towards body contact.
After a little chat, you excuse yourself; promising to get back in a while wanting to talk to your own friends still waiting around the room. It leaves Price on his own and that's when he tells the nosy men how he met you.
You were his neighbour, sharing half the walls of the old flat he house to live in before moving in together. How he introduced himself to you one day when he saw you leaving your house, how he told you he was military so you wouldn't freak out if you saw him in the middle of the night or suddenly disappeared for months, how after a specially long deployment he got back and you dropped by hours later with a bunch of tupperwares with homemade food “I assumed you would be tired, it's nothing special but I'll save you the hustle of cooking”, about how he had wanted to marry you ever since, how he gave you the tupperwares back one by one so he had more reasons to talk to you, how he finally asked you out with the last one and how after that it all was easy between you two.
The four of them swiftly move to sit down on the kitchen table, Price still telling them everything about you and the relationship. Ghost is just as invested as the other two, trying to play it off as polite interest. Slowly and smoothly people leave the house as the day goes by, the sun having set a couple of hours ago; and you walk into the kitchen, sitting on Price's lap with a sigh.
“I know it isn't proper of a good host, but these shoes are killing me.” You announce looking at the three men as you bend down and take them off, a sigh of comfort leaving your mouth as you lean back on Price. “I'm also sure you have endurance worse than some stinky feet.” You joke with a tiny chuckle making them smile.
“Everyone gone, darling?” Price asks, his hands resting on your lap as you nod smiling. He looks up to the boys as he says. “Better to tidy up then”
“Jonathan Price, don't be rude!” You exclaim looking at him. “They are your friends and there are more than enough rooms for them if they want to spend the night. They have been drinking too!”
“Mrs. Price.” John says with a teasing tone, standing up and helping you stand. “Talk to me for a second, love.”
Price bends down to pick your shoes up, holding your hand to walk you to the living room. They hear the two of you whispering back and forth, then silence and lastly the unmistakable sound of kisses. They peak behind the door, managing to see you sitting in the backrest of the sofa with Price standing between your legs, grinding his hips against yours. You moan softly against his lips, before pulling back and whispering something they can't make out; Price pulls back as well and they sit back on their chairs.
Price walks in just a second later. “Lads… thank you for coming, I'll see you when I'm back from the honeymoon, now… OUT!” He barks the last word making Soap chuckle as they all finish their drink in a gulp and start to walk out of the house, congratulating Price on the marriage and walking out one by one; meanwhile, you remain completely out of sight for them.
“They gone?” You ask for the top of the stairs, looking at Price with a smile.
“Yep.” Price says locking the door.
“You didn't have to kick them out like that, though.” You say cocking your head with a smile.
“Oh, yes, I did.” He says, turning around to start to walk up the stairs.
“Why? Afraid they might join?” You say winking at him, making him laugh before he throws you over his shoulder making you shriek.
“Wouldn't you like that, you little minx!” He jokes, landing a smack on your asscheek.
You gasp dramatically holding onto his clothes. “It's Mrs. Price to you, young man.”
He chuckles, making your body shake, before he throws you down on the bed; him instantly crawling on top of you.
“Who's your husband, darling?”
“You, Mr. Price.”
A bit more of this
TagList: @waiting-so-long @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @crashtestbunny @sodavrr
#young price my beloved#call of duty#cod#captain john price x reader#captain price smut#captain price x reader#captain john price#captain price#john price#price x reader#cod x reader#price#call of duty modern warfare#cod mwii#call of duty x reader
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🎀🩷
John Price & his wifey💕
Price considers himself a somewhat traditional man, and he's proud of it! Not in the sense that he believes that women belong in the kitchen and that men should call the shots, but in the belief that women should be respected - looked after.
His now wife is perfectly happy to indulge him in that way. She's far from docile or subservient like most men expect of housewives, oh no, she's an absoulute firecracker when it comes down to it, which only makes John love her more.
She's happy to play house, 'hold down the fort' as John calls it, which makes her feel important. He works so fucking hard, and she just wants him to have a beautiful home and lots of yummy food to come back to.
She has a part time job or works from home, because she flat out refuses to be financially dependent on anyone. Upon marrying John, though, she was able to quit her 9-5 that made her miserable and persue her passions.
John gets her a dog to keep her company until they can think about starting a family proper. He's most definitely antsy to have kids with her though. He's already training up his subordinates to a standard which will allow him to take a more hands off approach and spend more time at home.
The 141 know he's married, but John only really talks about her when asked. He wants to protect her, but also wants to seperate the little life he's building for himself from the blood and gore of the life he's getting ready to leave behind.
#cod mwii#cod mw2#captain John price#John price#captain price#price#captain price x f!reader#captain price x y/n#captain price x reader#john price x reader#john price x y/n#john price x f!reader#price x reader#price x y/n#price x f!reader#call of duty#cod#cod modern warfare#tf 141
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MISS YOU | r. cameron
summary: you and rafe have a secret relationship but rafe starts to miss you, not being able to spend much time with you without people seeing you together. - based on this request
warnings: fluff, none really, included picture of chat between rafe and reader, reader is John B‘s sister.
words: 1,7k
"Sarah!" I laugh loudly, running away from her through her garden. "I‘m gonna get you!" she giggles and runs after me. We‘re currently in her garden with her Dad and Rose, them sitting on the porch with cocktails and whiskey while Sarah, Wheezie and me run around with water guns.
I run behind Rose, knowing Sarah would never shoot her with water. "Girls!" she says in a warning tone, looking right at Sarah in front of her, holding the water gun up. "Sorry Rose." Sarah says and shoots water out of it, trying to wet me but only hitting Rose.
I run away again and shout "Sorry Rose!", looking behind me. I see Ward laughing at his wife, while Wheezie laughs at her too. Suddenly I bump into something hard, making me almost fall down on my ass but two hands catching me. "Woah, easy there." I look up and see the face of my boyfriend Rafe, grinning down at me cheekly. My cheeks heat up when he licks his lips. "Sorry." I giggle and he let‘s go of my hands.
Rafe and me are in a secret relationship, only Sarah knows about it. But the rest of the kooks and pouges don‘t. We just wanted to enjoy ourselves so we decided to not tell anyone but Sarah, since she‘s my best friend and also the girlfriend of my brother John B.
When we told her she was getting all red - faced and mad but then I reminded her that she‘s with my brother. "Oh - was that how you felt?" she asked to which I just laughed and nodded. "But this is different! It‘s Rafe!" she tried to argue. "Hey!" Rafe warns her making me laugh again.
His family loves me but same reason there. We just wanna enjoy what we have, just for us. Plus I just know If Wheezie knew, the whole island would know the next day. So sometimes Sarah covers me and I cover her when she‘s with my brother.
"I missed you.." he whispers, while the rest of them was busy laughing at Rose. "Miss you too, Rafe." I say smiling up at him. "What are you doing today?" he asks me, looking down at my pendant which lays on my chest. "We‘re with the pouges later, going surfing." "Hmm, maybe I‘m there later too." I chuckle and tilt my head. "You don‘t surf, Rafe." "Yeah but I can watch you." he grins before Wheezie comes to us.
"Ugh Rafe, stop botherin her. Sorry Y/n, just ignore him." she says rolling her eyes at him and pulling me back with her to Sarah. I look over my shoulder and mouth a 'i‘m sorry' at him.
We continue our little game until it‘s time for me and Sarah to go to the pouges. Rafe leaves with Topper in his car and Sarah and I in her‘s. When we arrive at the beach, the pouges are already there. "Jo I thought you guy‘s would never come!" JJ shouts from afar with wet hair and his surfboard in his hands. I see Sarah jogging towards my brother, kissing him on the lips. I make a gagging face before walking towards JJ, giving him a hug. "And miss surfing with you? Never." I joke and go to Kiara and Pope, greeting them too.
John B pulls me in a hug too but I laugh and push him away. "Ew stop, you just kissed my best friend." I joke while walking towards my board.
Just when I pull my top over the top of my head I hear my phone vibrating. I pull it out of my shorts, pulling them down too so I‘m in my bikini now. I see it‘s from Rafe so I turn around with my back to my friends so they couldn‘t see me writing, or with who.
With a smile I put my phone away, turning back to my friends. "What made you smile like that?" Kiara suddenly asks me, grinning at me. The rest of them looks at me too now. My gaze meets with Sarah‘s, seeing her biting down onto her bottom lip to try hide a smile as she knew exactly what did. "Uh – nothing. Just saw a cute video on tiktok." I lie, pressing my lips back together. I don‘t notice JJ walking behind me and snatching my phone from me. Fuck.
"Hmm let‘s see what really made you smile." he say‘s, unlocking my phone. I really need to change my code. But his attention wasn‘t long on my phone when John B groaned, making JJ look up from my phone. "What is -" he starts but stops when he follows my brothers gaze and rolls his eyes.
Rafe, Topper and Kelce are walking down the beach into our direction. I used the opportunity and snatched my phone back. "Hey young lady!" JJ scolds at me to which I only giggle and shrug eith my shoulders.
"What do you think they want?" Pope asks into the round. " It‘s the beach guys, maybe they just wanna go for a swim." I say, trying to calm them down a little. I see Rafe typing on his phone again just before my phone vibrates again.
'I‘m jealous of the people that can see you every day.' it kind of hit me right where it hurts, but not because he was mean or anything, but because what he wrote is the truth. Even If we see us every day, we don‘t see us every day. Last time we saw us he sneaked into my room at night with John B asleep in the room next to us. We had to be quiet and were up until the sun was out again. Around 6am he left before John B woke up. Most of the time we just sneaked into each others room or Sarah and I switched cars so no ine would notice the wrong car parking in front of the house.
I sigh and look up, watching him and his friends walking over to us. "Wow Sarah, you really did make an upgrade with him huh?" Topper talks first, still mad that she chose my brother over him. Normally I would just sit back and enjoy their shit show but when someone says about my family, I‘m in for it.
I throw my phone away to my clothes, walking up towards Topper. "What? Still mad that Sarah chose someone who’s better?" i say, looking up at him. "Funny you say that y/n. Last time I heard your name was when your Dad went missing." JJ had to pull me back before I could punch him, ready to do so. "Just continue talking Topper and your Mom is gonna miss her son." He starts laughing sarcastically and shakes his head. "Watch your mouth you little slut before I -" but he got interrupted by Rafe.
"Man that‘s enough!" Everyone looked at him im confusion and shock. Topper turns his head towards Rafe, eyebrows raised. "What? Since when are you on their side?" he asks, feeling probably betrayed by his best friend. "No I‘m not! But she‘s no slut! You just hale it too far man."
"Are you hearing what I‘m hearing?" I hear Pope whispering to us, everyone nodding in unison.
Topper scoffs at his friend and shakes his hand. "Oh and how would you know? Didn‘t you hear what Corey said about her last – " Suddenly Rafe‘s temper get‘s the best of him and he grabs Topper by the collor of his shirt. "Because she‘s my fucking girlfriend and I know he‘s talking shit because she‘s been with me!"
Everyone went silent and I closed my eyes at his revealing. I took a deep breath before I opened them again. I gulp and look to my side where John B slowly looks from Rafe and Topper to me. "Tell me he‘s talking shit." he says in a calm voice. What‘s that saying? The calm before the storm?
"Uhm - well.. I wanted to tell you but -" "You can‘t be for fucking real! Are you really telling me right now my sister is dating Rafe Cameron?"
I swallow down the clump in my throat and take a short look at Rafe who just looks at me apologetic and let‘s go of Topper‘s collar. I look back at John B and try to find something to say. "You‘re with my best friend!" "That‘s different y/n! He‘s a kook!" "Uh last time I checked Sarah is a kook too!" I said, throwing my hands into the air.
"That‘s different. He‘s .. he‘s Rafe!" he says, glaring at me and then down to Sarah, seeing she‘s the only one who doesn‘t look suprised. "Wait.. did you knew about this?" he asks her, turning more towards his girlfriend now.
She starts blushing now, stuttering a little. "Well - he uh - he‘s my brother and.. it‘s the same when I date you, I guess?"
"Why didn‘t you tell us y/n?" JJ asks now. "Would you habe been mad at me?" i shoot back. "Of course! It‘s Rafe we‘re talking about!" "Well, that‘s why!" He scoffs and shakes his head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I love him and you can‘t do anything about it! He‘s my boyfriend and I am old enough to make my own decisions!"
"You love me?" i hear Rafe saying in a soft tone. It‘s now that I just realised what I said. We‘ve only been together for a few months now and no one said these words.. until now.
My cheeks heat up when I look at him shyly. "Yeah.. I do." He walks over to me and cups my face in between his hands. "I love you too, princess." he whispers before kissing me softly at first and then with more passion. I hear gagging noises and and a few "oh my god" "eeeeww" "lord help me" making me giggle against his lips.
"This feels like some bad type of Romeo and Juliet.“ Pope says awkwardly. "This is so fucked up." Kiara agrees. "This is so disgusting." my brother groans while Rafe picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist.
That‘s where John B draws the line tho. "OH HELL NO!"
Uh excuse me? Why is this my first Rafe Imagine on here when he‘s my favorite??
Anyways, let me know If you liked it! 🫶🏻
my masterlist and my current 1000 follower special
Prequel to this story here, how they got to know each other.
xoxo sarah <3
#outer banks masterlist#outer banks#outer banks smut#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron series#rafe cameron masterlist#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron headcanons#rafe cameron blurb#rafesslxtwritings#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey fluff
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Runaway
summary | thomas has made a deal with a man to help his business. thomas’s only condition? to marry the man's daughter. except she doesn’t want to marry him.
pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader
word count | 1.98k
genre | fluff with some angst?
requested? | yes! i had so much fun writing this! especially since i have never written anything like this before! thank you so much for requesting! please let me know if you like it!
warnings! | arranged marriage? darkish thomas? (not really, i’m just not great at writing dark characters sometimes, lol) not proof read yet!
author’s note! | hey everyone! this main character was written with poc in mind, i have tried my best, but since i am not a person of color please let me know if there is anything i can change to make it better! i hope you enjoy your request! please know that if you have requested something, i promise that i will get to it soon! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!
Thomas knew what was happening today, hell his whole family knew. His future bride was coming to birmingham. He struck up a good deal with her father about helping her fathers business about a week ago, then he saw a photo of the man's daughter. The only condition Thomas made? To marry his daughter. Once they agreed, the man said he needed a week to get his family there. By the time they got there, Thomas had already got everything set up to make damn sure the man would be successful in birmingham. Which included a few fights, but Thomas would do it all over again if it meant he could have her.
They weren’t to meet until the wedding, something her father insisted on. So Thomas stood in a room of the church getting ready, when his brother John busted in.
“They can’t find her Tommy” was all John said as he huffed as if he was out of breath.
Thomas’s mind began to race. What did he mean they couldn’t find her? Has something happened? Had one of his enemies found out about today and took her?
“She was getting ready, and asked for a moment to herself, when her mother came back in to check on her, she was gone.” John added as he leaned on the closest chair.
Thomas stood and took in his brother's words for a moment before he left the room. His future wife was out in Birmingham in her pretty white dress, with no protection and no one was doing anything about it. Her family may not know this city, but Thomas did. He knew what could happen to her if she stayed out there too long. This won’t be an issue when they’re married, and she has his last name. She could kill someone and get away with it then, but right now no one in Birmingham knows who she is. All they know is that she is a pretty girl in a white wedding dress, and the thought of what could happen to her made him sick.
Thomas looked everywhere he could think his fiance would be. He couldn’t find her anywhere, the only place he hadn’t checked was the Garrison.
He walked in to see his bride to be, standing behind the bar making herself what looked like her fourth drink. He walked in slowly, making sure not to scare her.
“(Y/n)?” He asked as he walked up to the bar. She looked up at him as she continued to make her drink. “I’m Thomas Shelby, your future-”
“I know who you are.” She said, cutting him off.
“Well, we're supposed to be getting married right now.” He said matter of factly. “So what are you doing here?”
“I’m not marrying you, thought you would have figured that out by now.” She said as she took a sip of her drink.
Thomas looked at her, making sure to not show how shocked he was that she was speaking to him that way.
“And, why not?” He asked her, now intrigued.
“I don’t want to, I don't know you.” She said as she finished her drink.
Thomas moved to be behind the bar where she was. He took her drink from her hand and placed it on the bar.
“(Y/n)” He said as he towered over her. “Your father has already given me your hand.”
“I know, I don’t care.” She said as she grabbed her drink back from Thomas.
Thomas just took a moment and stared at the girl as she took her drink back. It was the first time he truly got to look at her. He got to take in the color of her eyes, and the curl of her hair, she truly was beautiful.
“Why exactly are you so against marrying me?” He asked as he stared at her.
“I want to be my own person, not defined by my father or my husband.” She said not missing a beat.
“I think I can help with that.” Thomas said, starting to get closer to the girl. “I have a certain reputation, if you’re married to me, you’ll be untouchable.”
“That's still me being defined by my husband.” She said, cutting him off with a small eye roll.
Thomas took the drink from her and set it back down, but this time, she didn’t turn away from him, she just stared up at him, waiting for him to continue.
“As I was saying, you would be untouchable, and if you wanted a role in peaky blinder business, you wouldn’t just be “Thomas Shelby's wife”. You would be “(Y/n) Shelby, most feared woman in Birmingham”. You have an opportunity here, the choice is yours.” Thomas said, staring her in the eyes. Normally he would never offer this to someone he just met. But there was something about (Y/n), just the look in her eyes, the way she wasn’t scared of him, how she held herself, how she looked at him with the same amount of intensity he looked a her with, how she didn’t care she was defying the most feared man in birmingham. "Don't let your pride get in the way of a smart decision."
Thomas watches the girl stare at the wall for a moment, him taking in her side profile. Until she finally looked up at him.
"I won't be reduced to just your little wife?" She asked with a small glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"I'll let you take care of anyone who says you are" He said with a serious look on his face.
The girl gave him a small smile, it was obvious that no one had ever believed in her the way Thomas was right now, that they all thought of her as some weak little girl and nothing more.
"Fine, I'll marry you" She said as she looked up at him with a small smile.
Thomas wrapped her arm in his and led her out of the Garrison. He held the bottom of her white dress up away from the dirt as he walked them back to the church.
“You know, you’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.” She said to him with a small laugh. “It’s bad luck.”
“I won’t let anything ruin this marriage, trust me.” He said as he opened the church door for her and let her walk in first. Thomas watched as her family whisked her away, knowing that this girl was truly something he had never expected her to be, and he loved it.
#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby#tommy shelby imagine#cillian murphy#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby fic#tommy shleby fic#thomas shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fluff#tommy shelby fluff#thomas shelby angst#tommy shelby angst#thomas shelby peaky blinders#tommy shelby peaky blinders#peaky blinders#thomas shelby smut#tommy shelby smut
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Hey! I’m wondering if you’d be willing to write a fic where Thomas is intending for John to marry Y/N to unite the Lees and the Shelbys like the show, but when he sees her the first time, he changes his mind on John marrying her. Instead he marries her
Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, altered storyline, Tommy’s a sweety, p in v , oral if you blink, altered storyline, name calling, slight misogyny
thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!
Tommy and John were sat awaiting your arrival, expecting you any moment now. John went on and on about how you were back in grade school, none of that really mattering to Tommy in the slightest.
The door opened, a brisk wind rolling in, pushing your hair in front of your face, your innocent vanilla scent flowing into the booth, as you flipped your hair behind your shoulder.
Tommy shifted uncomfortably at your beauty and grace. Your tone was soft, and a smile as bright as the sun, he couldn’t allow his brother to marry you, not with a face like that.
Dropping your bag near the booth, Tommy couldn’t take his eyes off of you, helping you pick up your belongings from the floor. When you thanked the man for helping, you locked eyes with him, an immediate attraction being drawn to you from those crystal blue eyes.
“Thomas Shelby, pleasure to meet you.” When the handsome, intimidating man spoke, a thrill of attraction and desire rushed through your veins like a hurricane, time suddenly seemed to be irrelevant, along with the man you were arranged to marry.
“Y/N L/N. Likewise.” He motioned for you to sit, offering one of the many cigarettes he carried in his suit. When you declined, mentioning how you don’t smoke Tommy was stunned and intrigued.
Everyone smoked in the garrison, it was hard to find a woman that didn’t.
Taking your seat beside John, you straightened your back, folding your hands gracefully, fully prepared for any questions that may come your way.
John smirked, glancing down at the clear cleavage, your bra barelt holdimg in you breasts, he nodded toward Tommy to take a glance but he’d never disrespect a woman in that manner. He simply began conversation, asking where you lived, went to school, even personal things such as a family matters. He was a fair man, offering the same respect back, his voice brooding but in a good, hospitable way.
“John, do you mind if I take lovely Y/N here to the bar and make her a drink.” John hadn’t barely heard Tommy speak as he was joking around with Finn. Simply waving you both off, they chattered on, making you contemplate on whether or not John was fit to be a husband.
Tommy noticed the quizzical expression on across your face, intending to turn that frown into a smile.
“What’s it going to be my dear? Whiskey? Gin? No, something is telling me you are a rum and coke girl?” His eyebrows raised, furrowing together in curiosity with the expectation and hopefulness that he was right. You couldn’t contain the rose petal blush paint your cheeks, glancing down in embarassment and moving a wild strand of hair behind your ear.
“How’d you know?”
“Just a lucky guess. Some say I’ve been gifted with the ability to read people. You seem like a smart girl Y/N, what type of hobbies do you indulge in, surely everyone has at least one.” Settling your purse down, you watched as he worked effortlessly behind the bar, topping off you drink with a whip cream which surprised you, most people found it odd, never having seen anyone do so yourself.
“Oh I- I enjoy reading, and occasionally shopping, a girl can never have too many clothes.” Tommy chuckled, staying behind the bar and lighting a cigarette, in that moment he knew you were too good for John. He wasn’t a saint himself but he wad far more mature and caring compared to his little, reckless brother.
“Well from my perception, you look very endearing, and well, stop me if this is too much but you’re quite beautiful Y/N, my brother’s very lucky to have you.” You waved him off, giggling like a school girl but Tommy never took his eyes off of you, entranced by your illuminating smile, and adorable laugh. There was a silence for a moment when you realized that perhaps Tommy felt the same way you were feeling. The goosebumps on your skin, the heart beat between your thighs, trying to evade the temptation, the profound want to be in bed with that ever charming smile, and angelic blue eyes, and those lips, those plump, pale lips that you wanted to kiss right there.
How was this powerful man already under your skin in such a small amount of time, was it the way he took interest in your life? The way his subtle gaze seemingly never broke away from you? Or perhaps his way of words, speaking with finesse and confidence, never once stuttering.
John approached the bar breaking the evident friction between you two. Your smile faded when he wrapped his arm behind your shoulders, pulling you in closely to his body heat.
“How’s everything love? He isn’t scaring you is he?” You shook your head no, staying quiet and biting your lip attempting to hold back from laughing when Tommy raised his eyebrows challengingly, playfully as if he wasn’t making you more comfortable than his brother.
“Alright well, Arthur and I are going to go to a few pubs, see what kind of trouble we can get into tonight before the big night, if you know what I mean Tommy.” He winked at his older brother who didn’t seem the least bit impressed. Had he really just said that right in front of you? Reassuring you’d be alright here and be heading home in a little bit, Johnny bid you both goodbye, finishing off your rum and coke on his way out. How rude.
Scoffing, Tommy made you a new drink.
“You’ll have to allow me to apologize for my brother he can be quite- What’s the word I’m looking for? Oblivious sometimes.” A wave of relief washed over you when you were alone with Tommy once more, even the patrons in the bar clearing out for the night.
The palpable tension in the room magnetized when his charismatic eyes remained on you, the heat building beatween your legs, but you weren’t going to be the one to just come out and say it. Like Tommy always did best, he took the initiative, clearing the silence.
“Do you want to fuck me, Y/N?” He raised his eyebrows expectedly, his eyes searing into your soul as he handed you your drink, his fingers grazing over the softness of your fingers.
Stunned by his question, you couldn’t deny the electric current of desire running through your veins. Your eyes searched one another in question, the intensity of his dominance protruding you very being.
“I-I suppose I would but- I must inform you I’ve never really-“
“There’s no need to fret Y/N. I’ll go slow, I wish to spend as much time with you as I can, if you’ll have me that is.” Were you really about to do this? This wasn’t the girl that you were but Tommy was so enticing, and held a clear attraction toward you. You’ve heard many stories of Thomas Shelby, yet you found yourself following him out to the car as he held an umbrella over you, not looking back once.
As soon as the bedroom door closed his lips were on you as he hoisted you up onto the dresser. Hands caressing your bare thighs while your legs wrapped around his torso, melting into his fiery touch. He tasted of whiskey and mint, smelling of a subtle yet timberwood like scent. Your tongues collided with one another in disparity, your nightgown strap sliding down carelessly in the process.
“You are an enchantress, my darling.” You unbuttoned his shirt, pushing yourself up as you walked one another still embraced toward the bed.
Unclasping your bra, Tommy relished in that sight of your bare, nude breasts. They were everything he had imagined, soft, rounded, delectable enough that he couldn’t waste another moment with having his lips on your enlarged nipples. Sucking the sensitive skin, lapping his tongue repeatedly as you moaned from the touch.
“Feels good Tommy. I need more. Please.” Begging already? You felt pathetic but didn’t care and neither did he when he pulled you onto the bed.
“Your wish is my command, love.” He layed you down gently on the white sheets, your hands skimming his muscular chest as he fumbled hastily to take his shirt off before diving back into your lips with a deep desire.
His eyes never left you, drawn into the perfection of your skin, the way your nude body gleamed poetically beneath him in the dim light.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to-“
“Yes. Yes I’m sure I don’t want to waste another minute, I need you in me Tommy.” That was all the reassurance he needed to hear. When he undid his belt and tugged his pants down his member popped up, perky and ready. He was long, and rather wide, partially shaven, but that didn’t matter to you. Tommy could see the nervous worry in your eyes when they landed on his cock, but he needed you to understand he wasn’t one to rush such a big, personal decision.
Laying his hand caringly on your cheek, he looked into your eyes, demanding your attention so you knew he wasn’t kidding.
“I know it may seem a bit frightening but I assure you, we go at your pace. If you want me to stop tell me, okay?” You nodded, and then again when he motioned toward your white laced panties. When he slid them down your legs, you turned your head in embarrassment, always holding a tremendous insecurity for your appearance downstairs. Tommy on the other was blown away at the sight of your untouched pussy.
“May I?” You nodded for him to continue, fully trusting him. His tongue glided between your wet lips, devouring your sweet rose, taking you by surprise and shedding the insecurity from your skin. “You have nothing to be ashamed of love. It’s perfect, and tastes exquisite.” You blushed as he continued to eat you, waiting for your nectar to slowly seep out, for him to start prepping you. When his finger entered you there was a slight discomfort, you’d never gone down there yourself but Tommy took his time and focused on your body language. After a few moments he entered a second finger, your tight walls surrounding his digits, coating them with your slick. There was a slight pleasurable feeling from feeling so full. He fingered you for a few minutes until he deemed you ready.
“Are you ready love?” You nodded that i was okay, and he kissed you once more reassuringly. He was slow upon entering, his cock aligned with your gaping, eager hole, the head resting there for a few seconds so you were aware of what was to come. He slowly pushed his head in, protruding your virgin walls, inch by inch. He stopped halfway in when you winced in pain, wanting to give you time to adjust.
“Focus on my voice. The pain will dissipate soon, tell me when you want me to go further.” After a few seconds, you relaxed your muscles, nodding for him to continue. When he was all the way in there was a sharp shot of pain from being stretched from his cock and your cherry now being popped.
Your eye fluttered close as he slowly pumped in and out of you tenderly, taking his time until you were comfortable for him to fasten his pace. The pain slowly subsiding as your inner walls calmed.
“Faster.” When you spoke it was but a whisper, Tommy understood. His shaft fucked into you quickly, the head of his cock slamming into your cervix with each thrust.
“Fuck Tommy! More… Oh fuck.” Your boobs jiggled with each powerful thrust, but you needed to be closer somehow. Sitting up and you straddled his lap never breaking from the bonding of his cock.
Your hands grazed over the muscular tone of his back, wanting, needing to be closer to him. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his lips curling over the wamrth of your bare skin, tongue twirling as he kissed you with profound passion. You continued to ride his cock, hips rotating and grinding, until an unexplainable, euphoric feeling began to build in your pussy.
Tommy knew what was coming and held you close to him, wanting you to know he was right there, riding your orgasm out with you. Holding you caringly and rubbing soothing circles into your back as you crumbled and came undone with one another. After a moment, you lifted your head in a fucked out melody, running your thumb down his bottom lip and staring into his sapphire eyes. In that moment Tommy didn’t know what came over him, but he knew what had to be said. He couldn’t let you go.
“Marry me.”
“What?” You were stunned by his statement but stayed folded against him lazily, your knees to weak to move from out of his lap.
“What about John?”
“He’ll understand. He will, but who would I be as a man be to fuck you and let a pretty girl like you fall from my hands. I can be a good husband if you give me the chance.” As your breathing slowed down, Tommy’s seed flowed from your deflowered pussy, wetting his thigh making you laugh and apologize before giving him answer but it didn’t take you long to think.
“I will marry you, I just ask we let John down gently. I don’t want to be the cause of his pain.” At that moment the door flew open, Tommy was quick to pick the comforter up from the floor and shield your nude body. He was ready to start yelling until he recognized the man standing in the door to be his brother.
“What the fuck is going on here? That’s my fucking wife to be!” John went to rip the blanket from you in a furious rage but Tommy was faster, standing up and pushing his brother back out into the hallway, nothing but a sheet around his waist hiding his cock. John could be heard screaming obscenities, mostly pointed at you as Tommy pushed him into another room.
“She’s a fucking whore! A disgusting tramp who knows no fucking boundaries! And you! You fucked my girl Tommy! You can’t just steal my bride to be. How fucked is that! No- How fucked is it that the people closest to you are the ones who take the knife and twist in your fucking back!” Tommy pulled open a drawer, lighting a cigarette and remaining calm as John continued to yell at him.
“You can have the fucking cunt! Go ahead, see what I care!”
“She wasn’t right for you Johnny. Not with a face like that. Don’t take it personal eh? You’ll marry someone else instead. Besides knowing you as well as I do, you’ll be on to the next one in no time won’t you Johnny boy?” John rolled his eyes, scrunching his nose and closing his fists in anger before he punched a hole in the drywall. Tommy merely stood by the window, not feeling the least bit sorry as he knew his brother and he knew him well. Within a week he’d be passed it, forgotten about you and the betrayal of your short lived relationship. The only thing on Tommy’s mind was returning to you, surely John’s words had upset you immensely.
~
When the big day finally arrived, it was like a scene out of the movies. The reception was held in the backyard, the aisle covered in pebbles, white rose flowered bushes running down the perimeter of the wooden benches, the sun setting poetically behind the silver laced altar.
Friends and families gathered round, coming together for your day since Tommy may or may not have threatened some to be there for you, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. Now here you were seated with Ada while she was finishing up your makeup, and hair.
“What do you suppose the boys are doing right now?” Ada chuckled, whimsically, looking at her work in the mirror, trying to lighten the nerves you were feeling, but that question alone seemed to make you more anxious.
“Getting a long I hope. I do feel sorry for John, I just hope he can forgive us. We didn’t mean to hurt him.” Ada remained friendly, never entering the crossfire of her brother unless absolutely necessary. She could only give you advice, and be there as not a friend but a sister should.
~
Tommy was suited in his formal attire, looking out all the people chatting near the garden when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.” John entered the room, a delicate expression running over his face, showing he wasn’t here to cause any harm. Tommy nodded toward the desk, sitting in his seat and pouring his brother a glass of whiskey.
“You probably need this more than me.” John chuckled sincerely, not knowing how to start this conversation. Tommy could tell he was uncomfortable, a look of guilt just barely visible in his eyes. Shaking his head, he joined his hands together, motioning toward the ring the bearer still had to come and retreive.
Upon opening the velvet box, John was in shock, the dazzling rock shimmering in the sunlight. The ring itself had to of been far more than John’s own personal cut from the company, which told him Tommy must have taken the time to close deals and make investments. In that moment he understood Tommy cared for you more than he ever did, he would have never spent that amount of money on you, or anyone for that matter.
“She likes diamonds you know?” John shook his head indeed not knowing that small fact about you because he never took the time. He never had any interest or care to ask, to really get to know you. Closing the box, he frowned, reminiscing back to the fight just last week he had with you both. He was ashamed, and knew he could have handled it better.
“I came to apologize Tom. I acted immaturely and I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those terrible things. You guys look happy, she chose the right man.” Tommy chuckled, lighting a cigarette and tossing one to John.
“All is forgiven brother but I’m not the one that requires an apology. You can be a good man John, I believe that I do. But with the right woman.” Tommy left it at that, believing in his brother that he would speak with you before the wedding was to begin. John nodded understandingly, knowing Tommy was right, leaving no room for him to argue. All this hatred, anger, where were these emotions getting him? No where.
Glancing down at his watch, he bid Tommy goodbye, making his way to your dressing room.
-
A knock at the door startled you as you were putting on your heels, worried it was Tommy you sent Ada to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s John.” Ada turned to face you for answer. When you nodded she opened the door and excused herself from the room.
“Wow.” John was impressed with the workings of Ada, you looked truly breath taking, nothing he’s ever seen before in a woman. Smiling sweetly, you motioned for him to sit.
He twiddled his thumbs, nervously searching for the right words, but he didn’t really know where to start, so he went with the first thought in his mind.
“I’m sorry. I was out of my fucking head speaking about you like that. My brother, he’s a good man, the better man. Besides we never really had a connection did we?” You shook your head no in agreement, thankful John came to apologize, but you also shared your feelings of how you and Tommy should have just sat down with him before anything happened. He accepted your apology, but noticed you were due outside in five minutes. Bidding you farewell, he wished you luck and told you, you’d make a great wife and Tommy is lucky to have you, he needed you.
Ada knocked on the door, informing you it was time. Taking a deep breath you met your father at the patio door, a mixture of happiness and excitement protruding your ever bone.
Family and friends stood up, your mother crying from how beautiful and elegant you appeared. When you reached the alter, a singular tear swam down Tommy’s cheek as he smiled widely when he removed your vail. You were stunning, breathtaking, everything he’s ever dreamed about. John stood by his side as a groomsmen, happy to finally see his older brother smile for once. As the vows were exchanged. The ring beamed with an exquisite beauty, your eyes brimming with tears when Tommy placed the expensive jewelry on your finger, claiming you as his wife.
“Tommy it’s beautiful.” You were hoping and praying your makeup wasn’t running down your cheeks. As vows were exchanged, the man motioned that it was time to kiss the bride. Tommy rested his hands on your cheeks, time stopping when he placed his lips on yours as the man announced you to be Mrs. Tommy Shelby.
#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby imagine#ranaewrites#peaky blinders#requested
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The Royal Consort Part 2
Danny nervously took a sip out of the coffee mug. The rich liquid, filled with surgery goodness and creamer, helped settle his nerves as he tried to think of what to say.
Across from him sat Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and a man named John Constantine. Besides Danny, Jazz, and his parents sat, though only Jazz seemed unfazed by the situation, staring back at the heroes as if daring them to start a conversation first.
Sometimes he forgot she was the most mentally stable one in the family.
The Dark Knight had said nothing to him since he was brought up to the watch tower, the white lens of his mask staring back at Danny with no hint of emotion behind them.
This contrasts Superman, who had warmly offered them coffee and pie as they were brought into the meeting room. The man of steel had even allowed them all to pick a mug from the gift shop free of charge, smiling warmly when Danny hesitantly asked for a Martian Manhunter theme.
Wonder Woman had given him a courteous bow befitting her status. She seemed eager to sit down and get the peace summit going as soon as possible. It seemed she had prepared various speeches, bills, and other essential documents Danny had yet to understand in his Government Studies class. She offered the young man a warm smile whenever his eyes nervously wandered to her.
John Constantine mainly had remained silent past the few swears under his breath. He fiddled with Danny's necklace- the Royal Consort necklace. How could he have been so stupid to wear that around his neck for so long without realizing what it was? It did explain why that particular necklace had a whole room to be displayed in.
It was in the center, on a lavish pillow, on a pure marble pillar. Surrounding it were six more miniature lockets, each on their own less extravagant pillar and pillow, with similar symbols. The smaller ones almost tempted Danny until he saw that this necklace had white and red, his favorite colors.
The others had been black and red.
He wonders now what the lockets meant and if giving one to Dani had been a mistake. He hadn't had the time to text her, seeing as he had been whisked away by the Justice League as soon as he woke up.
He was escorted out of his home before ten am with news crews tripping over themselves to get a few shots of Ecto-Royalty. They had his house surrounded, flashes and questions coming from all sides as the paparazzi struggled to be the first to get Consort Daniel Fenton to comment for them.
Danny swears Sam had been one of them, laughing silly with Tucker, who had somehow gotten a hold of a prominent news camera. The two had likely thought his secret had been outed and were trying to sneak him away while pretending to be media.
"Come on. Come on," Constantine muttered in frustration, poking a glowing finger into the center of his locket. Each time he did, a soft ding went off in Danny's head, and he fought to not react. He thinks Batman had seen his flinch the first time it happened, but he hadn't said anything about it yet, so Danny hoped he was wrong.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
Danny grimaces as the sound replays over and over again before he can't take it anymore and finally speaks up. "Could...could you not do that to my necklace?"
Constantine blinks, then hastily places his locket on the table as if it burned him. "Forgive me, your Majesty. I meant no disrespect."
"It's cool dude. You, ugh, don't have to call me that, by the way. Danny is fine."
The magic-user shakes his head. "Forgive me, your Majesty, but I could not do something so disrespectful. I can switch to Prince Danny, but never Danny. If His Majesty Phantom were to hear me make such a blunder, it could break apart any form of peace. I'm sure you know how much ghost value rules."
Danny thinks of the Yearly Treaty, Walker with his prison, The Observant's court, Clockwork's time frames, and even Far Frozen formal speech. He sighs. "Yeah, Phantom won't care, but his subjects will."
"Exactly."
"Speaking of King Phantom, would he be joining us soon?" Wonder Woman asks. Danny has a moment of panic before Jazz smoothly steps in.
"Phantom and Danny agree to not have him appear if Danny is near our parents." She says, gesturing to their horrified parents.
"What?" Mom looks close to tears, guilt making her face seem much older than Danny has ever thought possible. "Honey, is this true?"
Danny shifts in his seat. "Yes?"
"Oh Honey, why?"
"What are we going to do today, Jack?" Jazz cuts in again in a poor imitation of their mom. She deepens her voice, trying to match Dad's happy-go-lucky tune as she dramatically shakes her fist. "What we do every day, Maddie. Try to capture the ghost boy and rip him molecule by molecule!"
The other heroes make faces, but nothing compares to the devastated expressions on his parents' faces. He almost told them it was okay, that he had forgiven them, but Jazz glanced sharply in his direction and knew it was best not to say anything.
She has often said the only way he could rally heal from all the unintended trauma their parents inflected on them- not just the hunting but slight negligence- was to have them first see exactly what they had done. It would be harsh, but it would be necessary.
"Makes sense" That is all Dad says. He's been so quiet since this morning. Danny is worried about him.
"That explains why he hasn't answered the summons." Constantine sighs. Danny opens his mouth to ask, but Superman beats it to him.
"You were summoning him?"
"Attempting to." Constantine corrects. "Prince Danny's locket has a calling bacon in it. Someone pressing magic against the center alerts King Phantom that his husband wants to speak to him. It's difficult magic too. Anyone with less control or power would be blown to smithers if they attempt it. Or, in Prince Danny's case tapping his finger against it works too since the necklace is for him. "
"Would anyone with the necklace be able to call Phantom then?" Batman finally speaks up. His voice makes Danny jump in his seat. It sounds a lot....darker than he thought a human could make.
"No. The necklace would only work if Prince Danny willingly let someone have it. If someone tried to take it by force, the necklace would transport itself back to King Phantom's lair or Prince Danny's person."
Danny clears his throat. ''Phantom and I have other rules. He can only come to see me if I'm not in school or if one of his subjects is attacking Amity Park. Otherwise, he mostly stays within the Infinity Realms."
Constantine nods as if that makes perfect sense. "The strain on your body must make it difficult to keep your husband here."
Danny nods, then takes another sip.
"If you don't mind me asking. How did you meet King Phantom?" Superman asks.
"I'm....a meta. I can make my eyes glow in the dark and I can turn invisible." Danny blurts, making both his parents gasp. Jazz nods as if it was common knowledge and not something Danny made up on the spot.
Those two abilities have always been more linked to his emotions, so Danny thought if he established a fake meta gene as the cause if he was later caught doing them, no one would bat an eye. The world was watching him now, he needed to be careful. "It's nothing really impressive, but I guess the day I activated it caught his attention."
"How so?"
"Um, well I was playing in my parents' lab when my best friends dared me to go into the portal. I thought it wouldn't work, so I did, but it launched me into the zone as soon I stepped into it. Phantom was this big ice looking thing flying by when I was falling in the zone- they don't really have ground in there. Everything was floating, but I just started falling and screaming since I couldn't fly. He caught me and offered to help me back to my home. The only thing was I didn't know how to go home, which way was up or down, and I didn't know how long I was gone. We tried to fly for a while, but the Infinite Realms always change. By that time, my home portal had moved to who knew where. Phantom took me to his lair to rest, Phantom, since he thought I was a baby ghost because my eyes glowed until I accidentally cut my hand on one of his icicles and bled-"
"You allowed your human blood to fall in his lair!?" Constantine sounds horrified. Oops? Maybe, stealing one of Frost Bites' few human encounter stories wasn't the brightest thing he could have done?
Oh well, he's already so far into the story. "Yeah, he reacted the same way. I freaked and turned myself invisible when he saw my blood."
"Blimey, I knew King Phantom is a protective spirit, but to think he didn't do anything to you once he found out you are a human- a virgin human no less- in his own lair? Benevolent is too little of a word for him."
Yeah, Danny really didn't like the sound of that. Sadly Constantine didn't seem willing to continue that line of conversation, and it would be really suspicious if he asked for more information since he is supposed to be the most informed person here.
After a slight pause, he continues, trying to sound confident. "He helped me get home after a while. Once we found the entrance to Amity Park, he asked if he could come to see me again in the living world. I told him it was fine, but I didn't think he meant it for real. Sam and Tucker- ugh my best friends- said I was only gone for three minutes but I swear it was much longer."
Danny could feel his face heating up. This is so embarrassing to be talking about himself in the third person. He felt so lame.
Jazz gave him an encouraging nod when he peaks at her. At least the others were buying his story.
"The next thing I know, my town is almost overturned by ghosts because, apparently, our passing through the portal stabilized it and established it as a new permanent entrance. I told Phantom, who vowed he keep it safe for me, and yeah, he fumbled a bit in the beginning, but he did a good job. Whenever he needed to fight I had to find somewhere safe to hide, so that I could keep him here, and that's why I missed so much of school and sleep all of freshmen year. His last big fight was against the old king Pariah Dark after the monster took Amity Park into the zone. Once he won, he was crowned and he um gave me this necklace. We've been going ugh, steady since."
The room was silent until Wonder Woman smiles "A most romantic tale Prince Danny."
Ugh, it really was. His face grew even redder as Jazz snorted. "Thank you."
Feeling an intense stare, Danny looks up, only to be met with Batman's emotionless face. "The reason you and King Phantom look exactly alike is that he took your shape, didn't he?"
What.
"That's standard practice." Constantine waves his hand. "Powerful beings that need to anchor themselves to the human realm often take humanoid figures. If King Phantom saw Prince Danny and thought he was the most beautiful person he's ever seen -which is likely since there haven't been any hints of Phantom having any partner before now- he would, of course, make himself look like him. He even copied his parents' hazard suits because he likely thought that would honor them. Am I right, Prince Danny? ."
I could kiss you, English man. Danny thinks gratefully as he nods.
Batman grunts but for a second, Danny thinks he didn't buy it. He doesn't say anything else.
"Well, what about-"
Whatever Wonder Woman was going to say gets cut off by a blur flying into the room. The heroes all spring up into battle positions as the blur rushes Danny. He's about to throw himself before his sister to protect her until the blur slows down.
It's Dani. She's wearing her own necklace too. Shit.
"Are you okay!?" She gasps. "I saw them take you on the TV and came as soon as I could!"
"Who are you?" Superman demands. His clone turns to the other side of the room, hands pose in a fighting stance and the British man gasps.
"Stand down! She's a royal!." He shouts, pointing at her necklace. His blue eyes flicker between the two halfas until they widen dramatically. "Princess, I swear we have done no harm to your father."
Dani tilts her head, momently thrown. "My father?"
"You are wearing the Heir Apparent symbol. I assumed you were made from Prince Danny and King Phantom. I apologize if I am wrong."
"No need. I am made from Danny." Dani smiles, likely unaware that the magic man meant a daughter rather than the correct answer, as in clone.
"I'm a grandmother!?" Mom shouts, and his Dad bursts into tears.
The room descends into chaos.
( Part 1 ) (Part 3)
#The royal Consort#dc x dp crossover#part 2#Danny is going for a acting award#Dani is now his daughter#A romantic tale fit for a rom-con#Jazz is holding her own against Batman#misunderstandings
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