#James Conway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

on-my-vigilante-sht · 16 days ago

Text

Wedding Crasher

James "Jimmy" Conway x reader

Summary: Jimmy meets his wife after she gets stood up for a date, only for the date to show up at their wedding

Warning: no use of Y/N, mafia activities, death, murder, guns, alcohol consumption, cursing

A/N Idk how many people are interested in Goodfellas but I recently watched it and finally understood the appeal of Robert De Niro

Word Count: 5.5k

Masterlist

James Conway was the type of guy who seizes life by the throat and takes what he wants. And what he wanted in that moment was the girl sitting at the end of the bar. She stuck out not like a sore thumb but like a sole bright red flower among a sea of dulled green all blended together. The bar was quiet, more of a relaxed hang out rather than a spot for drunken, electric fun. Her tight, red dress and sparkly makeup had the effect of a peacock on the mobster sitting across the bar.

Leaning over to his one of his runners, Frankie the Wop, Jimmy whispered, “Hey, Frankie, you see that girl?” he nodded over to the bored looking woman.

“Yeah, I’ve seen her all night,” he muttered.

“Think she’d make a good wife?” he asked, still staring at the woman who had yet to notice the mens’ attention.

Frankie let out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know Jimmy but she’d pretty enough to be worth a spin.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy murmured, studying the way she stirred her drink, her bored, slightly saddened expression focused on the ice cubes in her drink. “I’ll be right back,” he said, eyes never leaving the woman as he approached.

She didn’t look up at him until he was leaning against the bar, his body wedged between her and the seat next to her. Jimmy could see the tension in her face grow as he leaned over her but still she refused to acknowledge him. “James Conway, but you can call me Jimmy,” he said smoothly, his voice like honey as he reached out a hand. She looked up slowly, the tense muscles in her face not bothering to hide her annoyance. But when she finally met his gaze, she only offered a polite, albeit forced smile before introducing herself, her arms crossed firmly in front of her on the bar, rejecting his hand. But Jimmy the Gentleman wasn’t one to let a woman playing hard-to-get rattle him. “So what’re you doing here all alone?”

She didn’t answer for a moment and Jimmy could practically see the thoughts swirling in her head. Finally, she let out a huff before turning in her seat so her body was angled toward him. Here we go. “Getting stood up, apparently,” she sighed bitterly, her voice matching the venom of her slightly scrunched nose. Her gaze fell back to the bar as she grabbed her glass, quickly downing it before moving to hop out of the bar chair. But a rough hand on her knee stopped her, cementing her in place no matter how much she wanted to rebuff the infamous gangster standing before her.

“Woah, woah,” he halted her, his fingers pressing against her knee like he was holding her down, but his touch was still light enough to indicate that he meant no harm. “Who was your date? I can make him pay,” he finished with a laugh. But there was no real amusement on his face.

“I know who you are, Jimmy the Gentleman.” Her voice came out like honey even though she said his name like it was some damning piece of evidence. But that just inflated his ego more.

“Oh so you’ve heard about me,” he teased jovially. “And might I ask why I haven’t ever heard of you?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m not actually a part of this world,” she answered, her eyes flickering around the room of mobsters. You didn’t have to be connected to know that every person in this room had ties to the mob. Except for the woman talking to perhaps the most connected person in the room. “And looks like I never will be.”

“Oh yeah? And why would that be?”

She sighed before giving Jimmy a look meant to convey exasperation but Jimmy could see the thinly veiled amusement in her eyes. She was enjoying talking to him. “Because the guy who stood me up’s name is Philip Gallo.”

“Woah, Philip Gallo?” he exclaimed, that was perhaps the only name that could give him a shock. He backed away from her slightly in shock, his surprise and amusement getting the better of him as his hands flew up dramatically. “Well no fuckin’ wonder he didn’t show. Members of the Gambino family don’t hang here.”

The woman’s lips formed an O as she nodded, looking down again. Jimmy couldn’t help but admire as the light of the bar caught on the shimmer of her makeup as she tried to hide her disappointment. “Well, seeing as I know I have no date I might as well not waste my time,” she mumbled, standing up. Grabbing her wallet she moved to pay the tab but by the time she looked at the bartop again there was already a hundred dollar bill sitting proudly against the mahogany bar.

Flicking her eyes up once more she found Jimmy with a proud smirk on his face, carefully watching for her reaction. “Hey don’t worry about it. A lady should never pay for her own drinks.” He deflated slightly as she gave him a tired smile but didn’t let it get the better of him. Despite his frustration with the woman’s hot and cold act.

She just thanked him quietly, grabbing her coat to leave but he refused to let her slip away so easily. “Hey,” he protested softly, placing a light touch on her wrist to stop her from grabbing her coat, “you said you’d never be part of this world?”

She quirked a brow, her expression becoming increasingly exasperated. “Yeah?”

Jimmy retreated from her slightly, stuffing his hands in his pockets as if he were a kid asking a girl to the prom. “Whaddaya say you be part of my world? Have a drink with me. I guarantee you a Gambino boy wouldn’t pay for your single vodka cranberry with a hundred.”

Finally, finally, he got an actual smile out of her. Not a forced one or a coy one like she was playing with him. An honest to god smile that was just as dazzling as her eyeshadow. “Tell me,” she said leaning in slightly, involuntarily causing Jimmy to lean in too, “are you the type of guy to go home with a different woman every night?”

“No, no,” Jimmy dismissed, backing away only to take the seat next to her. “See I prefer to get to know a girl,” he said, leaning in again to try to create a sense of intimacy. “Y’know, wine her and dine her.”

She laughed again but this time it was teasing. “Well, we’ll have to put that to the test,” she said, taking her seat again.

“C’mon, you’ll love it. All the guys’ll love you,” Jimmy said, opening the car door for his girl. As she turned in her seat to exit the car, Jimmy took her hand to help her out. Her stiletto heels that Jimmy insisted on buying her digging into the uneven pavement as she tried to steady herself on the concrete. Her gaze moved up, falling on the thatched awning of the building’s sign.

“The bamboo lounge?” she read, her voice clearly unimpressed. “That’s where all the feared Lucchese members hang out?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy agreed in mocking defense, closing the door behind her. He quickly swept up behind her, his right arm coming to gently rest on her waist while his other crossed over his torso to place a light hand on her hip. “The owner’s a friend of Paulie. C’mon,” he urged her again, guiding her across the street, “you’re gonna love it.”

Jimmy only removed himself from her side to open the door and as soon as she stepped into the dark, rowdy bar he returned to her side. Walking in, nearly everyone within ten feet of the entrance turned to see who it was. Smiles and warm greetings towards Jimmy broke across the crowd as they sifted their way through the bar. Jimmy’s right hand never left her waist as they picked their way through the crowd. He would occasionally reach over to shake someone’s hand and share a few excited words of greeting but he’d always return to her side quickly. And as they went he took the time to quickly introduce her to everyone worth having a name.

“This is Anthony Stabile, Angelo Sepe, Fat Andy, Frankie the Wop-”

“-What kind of name is that?”

“-Freddy No Nose-”

“-He has a nose.”

“-Pete the Killer, Nicky Blanda, Mikey Franzese, and Johnny Echoes.”

“‘Echoes?’” she repeated, sparing a glance over her shoulder at Jimmy who was steering her through the chaos.

“He says everything twice,” Jimmy explained casually. They finally made their way to a table in the back where several of Jimmy’s closest associates—dare he say friends—were seated. Empty and half full glasses littered the crowded table. Those who were seated seemed to have the complete attention of the numerous men standing around them. But before she could object to spending her night at this particular table she saw two men vacate their seats.

Jimmy gave a cordial smile to them, slipping fifty dollars each into their breast pockets as he pushed through the crowd. They didn’t have to struggle much as everyone noticed who it was and parted, allowing the couple through. Jimmy let go of his girl for a moment as he pulled out the chair next to Henry, gesturing for her to sit down. She did, albeit looking around nervously, the tension clear in her body language as she practically curled into herself in the seat.

Jimmy gave a few more handshakes and loud greetings before finally settling down next to her and Tommy. He immediately slung his arm over the girl’s seat, gently tugging her into his side which she welcomed with a relieved embrace. Jimmy couldn’t help but smirk slightly as his girl settled into his side, visibly relaxing as she embraced something familiar. “Hey,” he said softly, “I’d like you to meet Tommy and Henry,” he introduced her to the duo.

After a couple drinks, more introductions, and ample time observing how the mobsters interacted, the newly introduced girl finally entered the conversation. “So you two came up under Jimmy?” she asked, Tommy and Henry haltingly, leaning away from Jimmy just enough to address both boys.

Henry visibly brightened as Jimmy’s girl talked to him. “Yeah, taught us everything we know,” he smiled, looking at his mentor.

“Aye, where’d you find her, Jimmy? And has she got any sisters?” Tommy’s harsh laugh filled the air.

Jimmy smirked, he had mentioned the woman at his side to them before. In fact he had warned them to not be weird as he would be introducing her to everyone that night. But he had never told them how exactly they met. “Believe it or not I found her waiting for Philip Gallo,” Jimmy bragged. “His loss. He chose the wrong bar for their date,” he said, squeezing her tighter against his side. “She was at Frankie’s bar.”

“Woah, Gallo suggested Frankie’s?” Tommy asked her incredulously, his brow quirked seriously.

She blushed under all the attention, Jimmy’s words and Tommy’s explanation silencing the rest of the table as they looked at her attentively. “Um, no, one of my girlfriends went on a date there,” she said shyly, her hands fiddling her lap. Jimmy’s eyes flickered down at the movement, his hand coming to rest on her clasped ones in an attempt to soothe her nerves. “Said it was really nice so I asked Gallo if he wanted to go when he asked me out again. He didn’t have any objection to it when I suggested it,” she explained with a shrug, the nerves easing slightly.

“Wait, wait, I took a girl there recently. Is her name Ruth Mitchell?”

Jimmy watched her eyes widen in shock. “Yes! Ruthie!” she confirmed, Tommy earning the first natural interaction with her of the night as she recalled her friend excitedly. “Yeah, she told me she threw a drink in your face,” she smiled, taking a sip of her own drink. Jimmy fought the urge to commend Tommy for not being a dipshit and actually making a woman feel comfortable for once.

“Yeah, fortunately I wasn’t wearing a good suit,” Tommy said, his mood slightly soured, but still he laughed.

“Well I’ll tell her not to lose sleep over that,” she teased, earning a roaring laugh from everyone at the table except for Tommy as they watched Jimmy’s new girl finally start to come out of her shell.

“You got a good one, Jimmy,” Paulie laughed, shouting to be heard over the other voices. To which Jimmy just raised his glass towards him, tightening his grip on the woman next to him.

With the approval of the mob and his soon-to-be in-laws, it wasn’t long until Jimmy married his girl. Their wedding was an extravagant affair thanks to the bride’s excited mother and friends, aided by Jimmy’s bottomless wedding fund. The ceremony itself had already been quite the party with a live string quartet and enough flowers and decorations to overflow the entire church. Those features, along with the cheers of Jimmy’s second family—the one he called his real family—made the ceremony more lively than most wedding receptions.

And the Conways’ reception would have put a royal wedding to shame. Jimmy rented out one of the finest ballrooms in the city and had it draped in so many white and gold fabrics it looked like they were in some ancient Roman temple. There were so many flowers decorating the place no one minded when one of Paulie’s sisters snuck a few out to her husband’s car before dinner was even served.

The couple were sat in their seats at the head table, taking it all in. “Wow that’s a lot of Italians,” the newly minted Mrs. Conway whispered in awe to her new husband.

Jimmy laughed beside her, throwing his arm around her and observing how all the lights reflected in her wide eyes. “‘Bout half are Irishmen. They’re all basically the same. Scum of the Earth, they call us,” he teased, getting closer and closer to her lips until he was kissing her, absorbing her laugh. Cheers and clinking erupted as the guests noticed the enamored couple, prompting Jimmy to deepen it. His lips melded impossibly closer to hers until he was practically consuming her. He only broke away when her hand pressed up against his chest, begging for air.

“Alright, alright,” the band singer spoke into the microphone, breaking up the cheers. “I believe it’s time for Mr. and Mrs. Conway’s first dance?” Even more cheers erupted as Jimmy stood. He reached a hand down but had to grab her hand himself as she was far too dazzled by the reception to be aware of what was said. But her husband’s touch brought her right back to the present as she stood with him. Even more cheers erupted as they began to make their way to the dance floor, causing the soft blush on her cheeks to deepen. As Jimmy led her, she moved closer to him in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

“C’mon, don’t be nervous,” he urged as they reached the dance floor. The first notes of Frank Sinatra’s The Way You Look Tonight beginning to play as Jimmy swept her onto the dancefloor. “Besides, you’re Mrs. Conway, you’ll have to get used to people’s attention being on you,” he ragged, spinning her before pulling her back in.

She laughed. “Yeah, well I didn’t agree to that when I agreed to marry you,” she returned.

“Sure you did,” Jimmy shrugged, spinning the two of them around. “You knew my reputation. You met all the guys.”

“That I did,” she mused. “And I must say I didn’t know you Irishmen were such dancers,” she jested, genuinely impressed. They hadn’t done any of the traditional wedding preparation stuff aside for the bare necessities despite Jimmy’s insistence on his bride having anything she wanted. But Jimmy’s reputation and schedule kept him busy so dance lessons definitely weren’t on the table.

“Yeah, it doesn’t come from the Irish half,” he joked. “But I can’t believe you’re surprised by this,” he nodded to himself, pushing her away just enough so he could puff his chest out in pride before quickly pulling her back in. “They don’t call my Jimmy the Gentleman for no reason.”

The bride laughed again, falling into his embrace as he pulled her closer, finally able to wrap her arms around his neck. “Well I guess you’re right. Probably should’ve known that from the first conversation we had,” she recalled the smooth talking gangster that had wooed her less than a year ago.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. Everyone could see the affection in Jimmy Conway’s eyes as he held his wife. And the swooning crowd’s excitement for the couple was only incensed when Jimmy suddenly dipped her, pressing a deep kiss to her lips as the last notes played. But the couple couldn’t even hear the crowd, too immersed in their own world. Jimmy pulled away slightly, still holding her in the dip. “I love you, Mrs. Conway.”

“I love you too, Mr. Conway,” she returned before Jimmy whirled her back up with a cheer. He held her close as he held a hand up in a wave to the crowd before gently guiding his bride back up to the head table.

The couple hardly had a moment to settle down before Jimmy was looking over his wife’s shoulder. He turned her so she was looking in the same direction, finding Paulie standing there with an envelope. “I said it when I met her and I’ll say it again, you got a good one here,” he smiled, handing the bride the envelope as he stooped down, pressing a light kiss to her cheek.

Next to step up was Vinny, one of Jimmy’s close associates. “Congratulations,” he smiled, handing over another envelope and pressing yet another kiss to the bride’s cheek. When he moved aside she could see a line forming of everyone coming to wish the couple their congratulations individually.

“To get you started,” Morrie Kessler wished, having an identical interaction as the last two men. As the wishes and the money kept coming, Jimmy leaned over, right up to his wife’s ear to whisper everyone’s name as they came to greet her. As the line continued on and on the bride was beginning to get a little overwhelmed by all the kisses and comments and new people.

That was, until there was a loud smash coming from the back of the reception hall. Practically everyone in this crowd was quite attuned to the sound of fights breaking out so no one bothered to look into it. Except for Jimmy who’s head had whirled around to find the noise so fast it created a draft only his bride could feel. His eyes carefully searched the reception hall, searching through the crowd against the white and gold drapery for threats. Finally, he saw a huddle of guys exiting into the hallway through a side door looking like a rugby scrum. As he watched them disappear one person remained in the doorway momentarily, Tommy. His eyes caught Jimmy’s gesturing for him to follow the group.

Jimmy turned to his wife, his lips returning to her ear. “I’ll be back,” he whispered. She turned to face him, a forced smile on her face as she nodded. Taking a glance at the line he felt kind of bad for her, she was about by assaulted greetings and cheek pecks from a fifty person line of Italians all eager to meet his bride. But his work never seemed to stop. And he knew Tommy wouldn’t bother him if it weren’t important. “I’m sorry, doll,” he apologized before pressing a kiss to her cheek, leaving her to the wolves.

Jimmy wasted no time dismounting the dais that held his table. A few aunts tried to stop him to wish him their congratulations but he brushed them all aside. “I’ll come back,” he swore. “Just stay here,” he murmured continuously as he finally made it out to the hall.

Upon exiting the ballroom to the noticeably dimmer hallway, Jimmy was greeted by a sight he always wanted to see. Knelt on the lush red carpet was none other than his wife’s date from all those months ago, surrounded by five guys all either holding him down or at gun point. But before he could approach Philip Gallo Tommy approached him.

“We found him in the back of the hall with this,” Tommy explained in a hushed voice, holding up a pistol. “Hasn’t explained why he’s here.”

Jimmy just nodded before setting his sights on the man in question. Philip’s face was already bruising and he could see a few drops of blood on his wrinkled suit. “Philip Gallo,” he greeted, leering down at the beaten man. “If you’re here for your date it’s a bit late for that,” he laughed, the noise coming out hollow. The others holding the Gambino mobster laughed too, the sound ringing through the hallway menacingly when it was suddenly interrupted by a thwack. Jimmy’s fist came down on Philip’s face so hard it sent him to the floor despite the grips on his collar.

Jimmy stooped down, standing over the dazed man to grab his collar, dragging him back up so his face was mere inches from Jimmy’s. “You think you can come to my wedding to what? Steal back my wife? Whack me? Whack her? Make me pay for taking her from you?” he seethed in his face. The mobster was beginning to see red as he continued shouting in Gallo’s face, incensed that anyone would dare impede on his wedding day. Weddings were sacred in Italy, meaning they were sacred in the mob. Blood wasn’t shed at weddings, you waited until after the honeymoon.

The only thing that broke Jimmy out of his fury was the sound of Paulie’s voice. “Aye, what’s going on out here?” the capo’s voice pierced the hall. Every man’s attention turned to the man, tension filling the air like they were kids getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Even Jimmy was slightly startled, his grip slackening enough that Gallo slumped against the ground with a thump.

“Philip Gallo,” Tommy informed casually, gesturing to the bloody man underneath Jimmy. “Found him in the back with a gun.”

Paulie’s angry expression contorted into confusion. “The fuck is he doing here?” he asked the groom.

“Don’t know,” Jimmy admitted, standing up to talk to his friend. “But this fucker shows up at my fucking wedding with a fucking gun, I’m not exactly extending him any courtesy,” he began seething again. Everyone could see the rage radiating off of him as he paced between Paulie and Gallo.

“Hey,” Paulie tried to calm him down, “I’m not asking you to extend him or any of the Gambinos any courtesy for showing up at your wedding. But what I am saying is that this needs to be handled discreetly. Your wife and her whole family is in there,” Paulie threw a thumb over his shoulder pointing to the door that led to the reception. “And you said they’re not connected, right?” Jimmy confirmed Paulie’s words with a shake of his head. “Right so whaddya wanna do?”

Jimmy thought for a second. It was the first time he actually took a moment to consider what he would do since stepping out into the hall. The mere sight of Philip Gallo had sent him into such rage he hadn’t bothered to consider his next move. So he turned back to the man in question, gesturing for his guys to pick him back up. They did, several hands grabbing the Gambino boy’s arms, collar, and shoulder to hoist him back up on his knees.

Jimmy stooped down so he was face to face with Philip, one knee braced on the plush carpet as he began to remove his tux jacket, handing it off to Tommy. “Philip Gallo,” he repeated the mobster’s name, restarting the interaction. “Whaddaya doing here?” he asked, his hand reaching up to the man’s face. His fingers searched the man’s temple until it found the right spot, his thumb digging into one of the wounds on his head.

Philip let out a groan of pain as his wound was prodded but still didn’t speak, the pain creating a throbbing in his head so bad he would’ve collapsed onto the floor if it weren’t for the hands holding him up.

Jimmy let out a frustrated sigh, “I’ll ask you one more time.” His free hand suddenly came up, his fist swiftly lodging itself into the man’s stomach. “What are you doing here?” he demanded in a yell, glad the ballroom he had booked was soundproof. Still Philip only coughed and choked, refusing to answer.

“Fine,” Jimmy spat, standing up, holding his hand out to Tommy who, having worked with Jimmy long enough knew exactly what he wanted. He wordlessly handed Jimmy the gun. “You don’t wanna answer me that’s fine. But just know that because of this,” he held up the gun, “I have every right to kill you.”

Finally, Philip spoke. He began to laugh but it just turned into a choked mess as he spat out the blood that had been accumulating in his throat and mouth. “Yeah, kill me, after all that’s what I was here to do to you. Your bride in there? She was my girl first, you stole from me.”

Jimmy let out another bitter laugh, getting right in Gallo’s face. “Oh so you think she was your girl? You went on one date and she wouldn’t even let you kiss her.” Philip’s jaw clenched at the memory and reading his expression just egged Jimmy on. “Yeah, she told me about that. Besides, you stood her up. But I guess that was the better move for you because you got almost an extra year of life not showing up to that bar. So no, you don’t have the right to kill me but I have every right to kill you,” he finished his taunting, standing up at his full height to point the gun at Philip.

“Just remember,” Philip said, looking up to stare at Jimmy through the gun, “if you kill me, Paul Castellano has every right to kill you. But hey, I’m sure he’ll have the decency to send some flowers to your wife. Maybe he’ll deliver them himself and offer her a shoulder to cry on. After all, she was a Gambino girl fir-” A loud bang, echoed by the hall, cut Gallo’s words short. Just as the blood began to trickle down his face from the bullet wound, he was released, allowing his body to fall to the ground with the heavy thunk that could only be produced by dead bodies.

Jimmy didn’t bother to spare Gallo another glance. His eyes flickered up to the men that had dragged Gallo out of the reception hall. “Take care of this,” he ordered casually, the anger still evident in his voice. Slowly turning on the now tainted carpet, Jimmy found Tommy and Paulie watching him with unphased expressions. Jimmy Conway had been killing people since he was sixteen and the two men in front of him had been witness to his acts of violence many times before. Wordlessly, he held out Philip’s gun to Tommy who took it, trading it for Jimmy’s tuxedo jacket.

Paulie took a step closer as the groom put on his jacket. “You want me to take care of this?” he asked, taking the gun from Tommy.

“Nah,” Jimmy dismissed, adjusting his lapels. “Castellano’ll figure out who did it soon enough. Might as well know I did it with his guy’s own gun.”

Paulie nodded. “Tommy, go back in with Jimmy. The rest of us’ll handle this.” Both nodded silently as they walked back into the reception hall like nothing happened.

To Jimmy, reentering the reception hall felt like driving back into the city after his first hit job. He remembered it vividly, still being just a teenager at the time. Some old-head had wanted him to whack some guy who had borrowed money from him. Jimmy recalled the capo had specifically asked for him in that dark bar when he first gave him the job. Said “It’ll be like your first real test.” Jimmy had agreed without a second thought, eager to prove himself as a serious gangster at the time. The capo had just wanted the guy to go missing to the rest of the world, meaning Jimmy alone at sixteen had to drive the guy out and bury him somewhere in upstate New York. He had taken it in stride but on the drive back to the city, the sun rising over the horizon, he had suddenly felt the weight of what he did on his shoulders; on his soul. Still, he pushed it down, never letting anyone know about that doubt, about that weakness. He gained a reputation as a natural born killer after that. A reputation that had served him well.

He couldn’t exactly explain what he felt that morning decades ago but it wasn’t guilt. He never felt guilty about the people he killed. And he sure as hell didn’t feel any guilt about what he just did. He’d be damned if he ever let anything happen to his wife, much less let anyone ruin her wedding day.

Finally making his way back up to the dais without much fuss he found the line significantly shorter than it had been when he left. He reclaimed his seat next to his bride, his lips returning to her ear again. “I’m back,” he whispered, his voice so steady no one would think he just killed a man right out in the hall.

His wife turned to face him, her face pinched in feigned annoyance but he could still see the amusement in her eyes. He also noticed that her cheeks had a more pigmented blush than before, a result of all the lipstick from the cheek kisses she had endured. She just turned back to the next family member, a heavyset woman greeting the pair with rosy cheeks and a smile to suit them.

“My aunt Marie,” Jimmy whispered, his hand coming to rest on his wife’s waist.

“Congratulations, dear,” the woman gushed. Even Jimmy could smell the liquor on his aunt’s breath as she pressed a kiss to his bride’s cheek, simultaneously handing her an envelope. “A little seed money for you two,” she said, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that was likely actually an alcoholic sheen.

“Thank you, Aunt Marie,” Jimmy bid. The woman smile growing brighter, giving him a nod before moving on.

The newlyweds continued their routine until finally the line was gone and everyone was either drunk and mingling or drunk and dancing. The Conways watched from their table laughing as Henry and Tommy danced wildly. The groom had his arm around his bride and her head was rested in the crook of his neck as she leaned against him. Jimmy’s deep laugh reverberating in his chest was strangely soothing to his wife. But as the laughter died down and a slow song played, they fell into content silence, each just enjoying the music but far too tired to get up and dance.

“Hey, doll, can I tell you something?” Jimmy asked, his soft voice breaking their silence.

His wife pulled away from him, only enough to look up at him. Her expression held nothing but openness, no confusion or annoyance, just curiosity for what he had to say. Her complete acceptance of him was one of the reasons had had popped the question in the first place.

“You know that Philip Gallo guy?” he asked.

Her expression morphed into bemusement. “Yeah?” she answered, straightening in her seat a bit.

“Well,” he began, his hand coming up to stroke her arm gently, “he was here.” His wife’s eyes widened with something he never wanted to see in her gaze. Fear. “Don’t worry,” he was quick to assure her, his steady presence begging her to believe she and her family were in fact safe. “I took care of him. Paulie’s off handling it right now.”

“Jimmy are you-”

“I’m okay,” he interrupted, leaning in close to her like he did when they first met. His free hand grabbed one of hers, holding it in his grasp firmly. “He’s gone, we don’t have to worry about him. I just thought you should know.” His wife nodded, still visibly shaken as he pulled her back into his chest. Jimmy decided it was best to not tell her about Paul Castellano, at least not until after their honeymoon. “I love you, I’d do anything for you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, of course being mindful of her meticulously styled hair.

Masterlist

#x reader #mafia #gangster #goodfellas #goodfellas x reader #jimmy conway #jimmy conway x reader #james conway #james conway x reader #mobster

19 notes · View notes

shallowseeker · 5 months ago

Text

Up and down the stairs; away and towards safety

"Run. Take your brother and go! Now, Dean!"

(The story is after us, Dean. It's after Sam.)

We hear the warning again later in the episode, with the overlaid message from John: "I can never go home" & "We're all in danger!"

And the thing is, they are in danger—all of them—from the story itself. The road, then, becomes armor, and motion becomes safety, insisting that they keep moving. Being in one place? That's what kills them. The idea of going off-road functions like a temptation, a lure. The safety of home is just an illusion.

///

Shelter is down

Even in the pilot, Dean is quite literally a marked impala, a prey animal, always on the run. I really love the contrast of Mary and John running "up" towards the fire and little Dean running away, visually "down," away from the fire.

In trying to escape the fire, Dean descends to safety. It is this need for safety (and the safety of his loved ones) that in a very real sense eventually drives him towards Hell.

///

Later in the episode, we see Dean descend the stairs again, when he's leading Sam away from Sam's apartment (an apartment that has been, unbeknownst to them, marked for death by Azazel).

"Going down" will be a mode of movement that follows Dean pretty much his whole life. Dean goes down into the valley, into the shelter, into Hell.

Dean remains on the move for much of his life, but when he does get a true home of his own, it's underground. When he's on the run from Billie/Death in 15x18, he plunges further still, deeper underground, until he loses the love of his life in his safest spot: the bunker's dungeon.

///

Until then, the car is the safest spot they've got.

But the narrative is at work, trying to take control of the car; trying to chisel and shape its targets the way Constance tries to chisel and shape her targets.

When the car charges them on the bridge, Dean is frantic to get out of the way, diving "down" off the bridge, into the safety of another road—into movement, the churning river.

Meanwhile, Sam keeps hanging on. Sam's Taurus-like personality and stubbornness means that he's always trying to cheat a rigged game. Sam tries to stay in the "high place" and not get burned.

Sam monkey-arms and contorts himself to stay on the bridge...

...and Dean comes crawling out of the river like a drowned rat.

///

We see ups and downs for Constance's family, too.

Sam forces her to go home, taking control of the car (narrative) and hurling her into her ruined, dilapidated house.

Inside, she's faced with her guilt: and her guilt is up.

The deceased family members are upstairs. They went up, but they never came down.

These children have obviously been paralleled to the pain that Sam and Dean go through at the hands of John's cruel overpreparedness, but these two are also an off-key echo of John and Mary's innocence.

The narrative killed its "first children." Mary's body was consumed alongside John's faith in the future. They are the ones who went "up" and were murdered (Mary) and damaged (John).

///

In many ways, Constance's story is a study of opposites to the Winchesters.

Her first children were drowned. The narrative burned its first children.

Dean's mother Mary ran towards the danger (and we will see she continues to haunt her house as a supreme protector of children). In contrast, Constance runs away from her house. She killed her children.

Constance's ghost is out to prove that deep down, everyone is flawed, operating in a Luciferian mode of engineered hopelessness. She haunts the road in a Trickster-tempter-style of hunting, not just preying on "unfaithful men," but trying to prove that in fact, all men are scum, i.e. "Even if you're still faithful, I'll make you unfaithful."

Many of SPN's villains are out to bring out the worst in people; the writer's task is to prove that anyone (everyone) will break under the right circumstances:

KEVIN TRAN (APOCALYPSE): Michael doesn't want to kill you. He wants to break you. He said for me to tell you that, 'Even if you win, you still lose.' I'm sorry. 13x20 Unfinished Business

We get this from Chuck too in 15x09 The Trap, as he works to drain Sam of all hope.

CHUCK: Um, short version – Sammy lost hope, and now I'm free. Hey, take it easy on the kid. It took a lot to beat it out of him. [Chuck crushes the sphere, destroying the spell] 15x09 The Trap

We also see this attitude reflected in many of the angel characters, reaching all the way into SPNwin The Winchesters, with the OG mindset of Gabriel/The Trickster wanting to prove how horrible humans are:

GABRIEL (unhinged): When the chips are down, humanity always chooses the selfish way out! Always! 1x08 Hang on to Your Life

As we learn more about Mary, we unravel that she did do some running of her own—running from hunting, from her parents, from her own childhood home. But here, at least, despite being dressed in white, Mary is in many ways Constance's opposite.

John are Dean are the ones doing the running, afraid to go home. In some ways, Constance is more like John than she is Mary, as John is victimized by Mary's lies and mistakes. John, like Constance, is driven into madness and despair. And of course, John breaks so hard that he hurts his own children.

After what happened, Constance went out on the road, looking for monsters. Making monsters, too.

The off-key parallels continue:

A married couple burns upstairs; a pair of siblings drowns upstairs.

The Winchester family faces tragedy in the comfort of their pajamas, while Constance's family are in their daily school uniforms—the period clothing giving off an eerie feeling that they're in "work clothes." (The suit and tie on the boy, especially!)

When Constance faces them, they embrace her, loving her as they bring her to justice.

Dean and Sam are "below." Safe. Looking on as the family is reunited and can finally rest together.

Sam goes home.

When Sam ascends up the stairs to his apartment, he leaves safety. There are horrors waiting for him "above," as Jess too is on the ceiling, a sacrifice to the narrative gods (the audience).

Like how Zachariah had to put extra pressure on Dean in 4x17 It's a Terrible Life to get Dean back on the road, Azazel has to burn down Sam's home to get him to play ball.

Sam had roots in this little apartment; he was even looking for a way to stay nearby with regards to his interview:

LUIS: So there you go. You are a first-round draft pick. You can go to any law school you want! SAM: Actually, I got an interview here.

So, Azazel burns the garden.

///

Meanwhile, after he notices his watch stop, Dean rushes back and kicks open the door, much like a firefighter coming to the rescue. Dean is running into the fire the same way both of his parents did, acting in his parents' stead to save Sam:

Dean quickly spots Jess, and susses out that Sam's destiny is after him, and he works immediately to get him to safety—down the stairs.

Afterward, with the memory of Mary heavy on his mind, Dean turns, knowing.

He got Sam out, but like John, Sam isn't okay.

Sam is "down and out," the light of his happiness snuffed out. This was foreshadowed by "Sam's light going out" in the headlight scene:

(We will later see Dean lose his light too, in season 7, after Cas dies.)

Sam is safe from the fire, but he's, in a very real sense, no longer the same Sam. Despite that Dean is the one wearing John's jacket, it is Sam who is now set on the path to revenge, to "becoming" Azazel.

Sam's broken.

SAM: Yeah. I kinda mean, well, like ever since my head broke, and we lost Cas. You ever feel like he's going through the same motions but he's not the same Dean, ya know? 7x09 How to Win Friends and Influence Monsters

Sam's season 7 self could be talking about his season 1 self here! Loss does things to people. (But the narrative did it to Sam so early!)

///

DEAN: So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it? SAM: No. Not normal. Safe. DEAN: And that's why you ran away. 1x01 Pilot

Despite his extreme efforts, John couldn't keep Sam safe from Azazel's designs.

And Dean can't either.

25 notes · View notes