#Our Man in Havana
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They can print statistics and count the populations in hundreds of thousands, but to each man a city consists of no more than a few streets, a few houses, a few people. Remove those few and a city exists no longer except as a pain in the memory, like the pain of an amputated leg no longer there.
Graham Greene, Our Man in Havana
#quote#quotation#Graham Greene#Our Man in Havana#statistics#populations#city#streets#houses#people#pain#memory#amputation
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#Our Man in Havana#Alec Guinness#Burl Ives#Ralph Richardson#Noël Coward#Maureen O'Hara#Ernie Kovacs#Carol Reed#1959
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Our Man in Havana (1959, Carol Reed, UK)
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Alec Guinness Filmography Part 2
To Paris with Love (1955)
The Ladykillers (1955)
The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957)
The Scapegoat (1959)
Our Man in Havana (1959)
Tunes of Glory (1960)
A Majority of One (1961)
Damn the Defiant! (1962)
Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
The Fall of the Roman Empire (1964)
#Alec Guinness#To Paris with Love#The Ladykillers#The Bridge on the River Kwai#The Scapegoat#Our Man in Havana#Tunes of Glory#A Majority of One#Damn the Defiant!#Lawrence of Arabia#The Fall of the Roman Empire
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[ID: the kombucha girl meme. the disgusted face is captioned “reading Graham Greene books for the author” and the interested face is captioned “listening to Graham Greene books for the narrators”.]
(the narrators are Jeremy Northam and Colin Firth respectively. also, this is the first time i’m reading Greene, pls don’t come at me)
Northam narrated Our Man In Havana, which i thought i’d not be able to like at all because of a generous helping of “period-appropriate” (never appropriate) racism—despite that, the story kind of grew on me. despite said racism, there are some Quotes from it which i really liked and will Make things out of if i have sufficient function.
Firth narrated The End of the Affair, which tbh i only started because Havana ended right when i needed an audiobook to help me sleeb and the app suggested this. it seems too acclaimed-english-slice-of-life (i.e. sad and pathetic) for me to like it, and also i spoiled it for myself by prematurely visiting its Wikipedia page. but it’s a good audio accompaniment for hardly-working me. we’ll see...
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Noël Coward and Alec Guinness in Our Man in Havana (Carol Reed, 1959)
Cast: Alec Guinness, Burl Ives, Maureen O'Hara, Ernie Kovacs, Noël Coward, Ralph Richardson, Jo Morrow. Screenplay: Graham Greene, based on his novel. Cinematography: Oswald Morris. Art direction: John Box. Film editing: Bert Bates. Music: Frank Deniz, Laurence Deniz.
Given its cast, its director, and its screenwriter, Our Man in Havana should be a little bit better than it is. Director Carol Reed's best films, like Odd Man Out (1947), The Fallen Idol (1948), and The Third Man (1949), have just the right mixture of gravitas and wit. Here there's a little too much gravitas weighing down what could have a more pronounced satiric edge: a tale of bumbling British espionage. It's possible, too, that a little uncertainty of tone lingers over the movie because it was filmed on location in Cuba just after the fall of Batista -- Fidel Castro himself visited the shoot -- and the subsequent course of the revolution lends a queasiness to the subject matter. Nevertheless, we are in the hands of masters like Alec Guinness, Noël Coward, and Ralph Richardson here, so there's enough to enjoy.
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Graham Greene weist uns in Our Man in Havana auf gravierende organisitorische Mißstände im britischen Geheimagentenwesen hin, die sein Kollege Fleming gerne unterschlägt, sowie auf die Gefahren des Staubsaugerhandels.
#Our Man in Havana#Alec Guinness#Noël Coward#Mureen O'Hara#Burl Ives#Ralph Richardson#Ernie Kovacs#Film gesehen#Carol Reed#Graham Greene
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You know you’re a fan when the vacuum cleaner aisle makes you think of Graham Greene. 😁
I enjoyed watching Our Man in Havana, directed and produced by Carol Reed, novel and screenplay by Graham Greene. Loved the acting, the sights and sounds of pre-revolutionary Havana, and this hilariously droll exchange:
James Wormold:
Are you happy at school Milly?
No one pulling your hair now?
Milly: No.
JW: And you don’t set fire to people?
Milly: That was when I was thirteen.
Milly: Are you still unhappy about mother?
JW: Sometimes.
Milly: But of course I pray for her.
JW: That she’ll come back?
Milly: Oh no, not that. We don’t need her. No, that she’ll be a good Catholic again.
JW: I’m not a Catholic.
Milly: That’s different, you’re invincibly ignorant.
JW: I expect I am.
Milly: I’m not insulting you father, it’s only theology.
😂
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MAUREEN O'HARA: A WOMAN OF BEAUTY, STRENGTH, & DIGNITY
In Memory of The Queen of Technicolor
youtube
In loving memory of one of Ireland's greatest gifts to cinema, The O'Hara Collection is devoted to the films and collective works of actress, Maureen O'Hara. The goal of this blog is to showcase her wonderful spirit and shed light on her glorious career as one of the Golden Age's finest. Later dubbed The Queen of Technicolor, O'Hara not only dressed her films with her fiery red hair and brilliant green eyes, but she also had a talent for acting that even rivaled her beauty. There will never be another like her.
Maureen O'Hara was born August 17th, 1920. She passed October 24th, 2015. She was 95 years old.
Interviews and commentary sampled from the following featurettes:
-A Tribute to Maureen O'Hara with Hayley Mills, Juliet Mills, and Ally Sheedy
-The Making of The Quiet Man (hosted by Leonard Maltin)
-The Making of Rio Grande (written and hosted by Leonard Maltin)
Song: Maggie's Theme from The Parent Trap Soundtrack
Films Used In Order of Appearance:
Lisbon (1956) w/ Ray Milland
Jamaica Inn (1939) w/ Charles Laughton
The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939) w/ Charles Laughton
How Green Was My Valley (1941) w/ Walter Pidgeon
Against All Flags (1952) w/ Errol Flynn
The Black Swan (1942) w/ Tyrone Power
Spencer's Mountain (1963) w/ Henry Fonda
Our Man in Havana (1959) w/ Alec Guinness
Mr. Hobbs Takes A Vacation (1962) w/ Jimmy (James) Stewart
The Parent Trap (1961) w/ Hayley Mills
The Quiet Man (1952) w/ John Wayne
The Rare Breed (1966) w/ Juliet Mills
McLintock! (1963) w/ John Wayne
Rio Grande (1950) w/ John Wayne
The Wings of Eagles (1957) w/ John Wayne
Only the Lonely (1991) w/ Ally Sheedy & John Candy
#old hollywood#vintage#maureen o'hara#ireland#john wayne#errol flynn#the parent trap#the quiet man#ally sheedy#hayley mills#juliet mills#harry carey jr.#brian keith#jimmy stewart#Youtube#video#vid recs
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It always seemed strange to Wormold that he continued to exist for others when he was not there.
Graham Greene, Our Man in Havana
#quote#quotation#Graham Greene#Our Man in Havana#strange#Jim Wormold#existence#object permanence#still not convinced personally
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Propaganda
James Edwards (The Manchurian Candidate, The Killing)—riveting/heartbreaking performance in 'The Manchurian Candidate'
Alec Guinness (Our Man in Havana, The Lavender Hill Mob)—look at him. look at this idiot picture i've submitted of him [above]. look at his dumb-ass little floofy cravat. he's perfect just perfect
This is round 1 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.
[propaganda photos submitted under the cut.]
#alec guinness#james edwards#classic movies#film#classic film#fuck that old man#round 1#hotvintagepoll
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Soft Spot
Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x shy!assistant!fem!reader
Summary: When you're kidnapped and used as a pawn, Deacon sets out to find you. Once you're tied up together, he changes his goals regarding your safety, finding a soft spot in the kidnappers and himself.
Warnings: spoilers (rewrite) for SWAT episode 3x15 "Knockout"; angst to fluff
Word Count: 3.4k+ words
A/N: Deacon in a suit + Street's scene in the luxury box = one of the best episodes.
Picture from Pinterest
You have only been Gio Torres’s personal assistant for a week - since he arrived in Los Angeles - but he got attached to you quickly. Your shy demeanor and kindness toward his wife made it easy for Gio to decide he likes you.
“Where are we going?” you ask quietly.
“To meet the security team, hermana,” Gio answers, smiling as he wraps his arm around Esther.
Frowning when you think of meeting even more people, Gio takes pity on you and offers to handle the introductions.
“They don’t need to know who I am, Gio,” you remind him. “I’m just here for you and Esther.”
Gio tilts his head to the side as Esther replies, “And if they want to meet you?”
“I hope they don’t,” you mumble.
✯✯✯✯✯
When you enter the arena, a few men in suits are standing around a television displaying the building’s blueprint. You notice the one closest to the screen is attractive and immediately drop your chin as he looks toward you. Walking behind Gio, though, you don’t expect he’ll even realize you’re there. Most people don’t.
“Hey, champ,” the other man greets. “This is my business partner, David Kay. He’s managing our security team. Meet Gio Torres, reigning welterweight champion of the world, and his wife Esther.”
David shakes hands with Gio and Esther before the other man excuses himself to answer his phone.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says. “And please, call me Deacon.”
“Diacono? Like padre, priest?” Gio asks.
“No, no, it’s just a nickname.” Deacon looks to Esther to ask, “It’s your first?”
“Yes,” she replies happily.
Deacon turns toward you, extending his hand. “I didn’t catch your name.”
You shake his hand, giving him a small smile as you say your name. “I’m Gio’s assistant.”
“Nice to meet you as well, and I guess that means we’re kind of working together.”
Nodding, you’re glad when Gio draws Deacon’s attention away.
“You know, this place is so… new. We had nothing like it in Havana,” Gio explains. “One day we will.”
“Well, best of luck to you tonight,” Deacon says. “And congratulations.”
“Gracias, Padre.”
You shake your head at Gio’s nickname, smiling at Deacon again as you follow Gio and Esther out of the arena. You can feel Deacon’s eyes on you, and your neck warms at the attention.
“Someone likes padre,” Esther teases, bumping her elbow against your arm.
Rolling your eyes, you keep your head down so your giddy smile doesn’t betray your secrecy.
“Sí, claro,” Gio agrees, chuckling.
✯✯✯✯✯
Gio sent you to find Deacon, telling you he wants to give him something for his SWAT team. You don’t know how Gio learned he was a SWAT agent when he isn’t working in private security, but it’s your job to get what Gio wants, so you go. Standing to the side and waiting for him to notice you, you accidentally overhear his conversation.
“Aren’t these fights usually in Vegas?” the woman beside him asks.
“Yeah,” Deacon answers. “But Maxwell wanted to fight in his own hometown.”
“Why does the former champion get to call the shots?”
“That’s why.”
Deacon points to Jackie Shaw, who you had the displeasure of meeting this morning. He’s full of himself and has a wandering eye. He may be the biggest promoter and responsible for the biggest fight of the season, but he does not seem like a good man.
“I’m gonna make the rounds,” Deacon says, turning toward you. He stops when he sees you, smiling as he says your name.
“You remembered?”
“How could I not?”
Pressing your lips together and dropping your eyes to the floor, you say, “Gio wants to see you when you have a minute.”
“I can go now. Care to show me the way?”
Looking up, the smile on his face makes you think he knows that his actions are impacting you. When he falls into step beside you, keeping his attention on you as you walk, you realize that Esther was right; you do like him, but you’ll never be able to act on it.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Oi, Padre,” Gio greets as you lead Deacon into the room.
“I’m going to go with the driver to get Esther from the hotel,” you tell Gio.
You nod at Deacon on your way out, and the look he gives you makes you wish you could stay.
✯✯✯✯✯
You walk out of the hotel, answering an email from Jackie Shaw’s marketing team as you get in the car. Esther should be out in a moment, but the door beside you opens suddenly, and a man you don’t recognize climbs inside.
“Uh, I think you’re in the wrong car,” you tell him.
The car begins moving, and you ask the driver to go back, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. When you look out the window, the man beside you unsheathes a serrated knife, holding it up so you can see it.
“Don’t yell for help,” he demands.
✯✯✯✯✯
Deacon is doing his rounds again when he stops by Gio’s locker room.
“My nephews are gonna go nuts. Thank you,” Chris says, accepting a signed poster.
“De nada,” Gio replies.
Esther and one of the security guards enter the room, and Deacon looks over when Esther says your name.
“No esta aqui?” Esther asks.
“No.”
They continue speaking in Spanish, and Deacon can tell they’re distressed and concerned about something. He doesn’t like that your name is involved.
“What’s wrong?” he asks Chris.
“His assistant disappeared from the hotel. His trainer’s out looking for her.”
Someone knocks on the door, and Deacon steps in front of him. “Hey, not now. You can get a selfie later.”
“Hey, Torres, I’m supposed to deliver this to you,” the man says.
“Let me see that. Chris,” Deacon calls.
“Stand right here. Don’t move,” Chris demands, pulling the man into the room.
“There’s a voice mail.” Deacon presses play, his jaw clenched as he listens to the distorted voice.
‘We have your hermana, your assistant. Lose this fight or she dies. No cops, or your wife is next.’
✯✯✯✯✯
“You got the wrong girl!” a man yells.
You flinch at the sudden noise. Tied to a chair, blindfolded, and gagged, you have no way of knowing who the men are or what they're doing in here.
“How do you mistake her for Gio’s pregnant wife?”
“She was in the car, I didn’t know!”
“He likes her, so it’ll have to work. That or we find another chance to get the wife.”
“It’ll work.”
That’s what you’re worried about.
✯✯✯✯✯
“What can I do to help?” Gio asks.
“Your weigh-in’s about to start. If you don’t show up, people will know something’s wrong,” Chris answers. “It might alert the kidnappers.”
“I know this is hard. But you have to go out there and pretend that everything is normal. We have people with your wife, they can’t get to her, and we’re doing everything we can to find the people who did this,” Deacon promises.
✯✯✯✯✯
Deacon notices a man filming Gio at the weigh-in and follows him out of the arena, pausing in an alley to call Hondo.
“Yeah, Deac, talk to me. What’s going on?” Hondo asks.
“There was a suspicious guy around the weigh-in. White, six foot, 25 to 30. It’s probably nothing, but I want to check it out,” Deacon replies. “He walked into an old factory six blocks from the arena.”
“You got an address?”
“Twelfth and Maple. Northwest alley.”
“Street’s callin’ for backup, Deac.”
“I’ll keep you posted.”
✯✯✯✯✯
Secured to the chair and blindfolded, you can’t see when people come or go, and have no idea where you are. Several men have been in and out, and you try to breathe quietly and listen for them.
A voice - Deacon, you know immediately - says your name before asking, “Are you okay? I’m here to help.” He lifts the blindfold over your head and says, “Hey.”
You pant as he pulls the gag from your mouth, nodding as you thank him. Deacon kneels beside you, keeping a hand on your arm. He pulls his phone from his pocket and talks while he unties you.
“Hey, Hondo,” he says. “I found her. She’s tied up, but she’s okay.”
You shake your arm, trying to alert Deacon of the men entering the room, but it doesn’t work, so you turn your head toward him, hoping to find comfort in his presence.
“Stand up,” one of the men commands.
Deacon drops something into a box, moving his phone to his pocket as he stands and raises his hands in surrender. Both men point guns at Deacon, and you push back against your chair, hoping that this doesn’t end terribly.
“I probably shouldn’t be here, huh?” Deacon asks. “I followed him from the weigh-in. I was in the room when Torres heard the message, and- and he begged me not to do anything, but I… I thought if I found his assistant, you know, maybe he’d give a reward or something. Look, the name is Schupatz. I’m just a security guard. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Turn around,” the men demand.
“I don’t want to cause any problems.”
Deacon turns, and you flinch when he’s hit over the head with the butt of a gun. Bringing your shoulder to your cheek, you look away and try to hide, but the man turns to you, forcing you to drink a strange-colored medicine before everything goes dark.
✯✯✯✯✯
You regain consciousness before Deacon, watching him as you sit in the dusty room. He tips his head back and groans before opening his eyes.
“You okay?” you ask quietly.
“Yeah,” he answers. “Are you?”
With Deacon’s complete attention on you, despite the life-threatening situation, you grow shy and can only shrug.
“Did they hurt you?”
“Gave me medicine that knocked me out,” you explain.
“You feel okay?”
Nodding, you look at Deacon’s shoes.
“I don’t know the men who did this, but help is on the way,” Deacon promises. “There are people looking for you. They’ll come for me too. I’m a police officer.”
“SWAT,” you murmur.
“How’d you- Gio. Right?” Deacon looks around, and you flex your wrists under the rope. “All right, we got to get out of here. They need you alive as leverage until Gio loses the fight. But they’ll get rid of me soon enough. Unless we get out of here first.”
“What can I do?”
“Best thing you can do? Stay calm. I’m gonna get us out of here.”
You nod as Deacon moves his arms, trying to find a way to get free.
“Will Gio really lose?” you ask, looking at Deacon’s face.
“For you? Of course.”
He smiles as he answers, and you find it much easier to stay calm.
“Who’s Schupatz?”
“A clue to help my team find us, I hope.”
Nodding, you fall silent again. While you watch Deacon, you take his advice to stay calm and trust him. He’s breathing deeply from trying to free himself, and when he pauses, you decide to try talking to him again.
“The medicine they made me drink… will it hurt me?”
“Nah. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Gio and Esther have to be okay. If they have to leave early because of me, and their baby is born in Cuba, their lives are as good as over. They need to stay in America, Deacon. Tonight can’t be the end for them.”
“No, and it won’t be,” Deacon agrees, raising his arms again before the door opens.
You fold in on yourself, moving back as a man kneels before you, offering an open bottle.
“It’s just water,” he says.
Looking at Deacon, you wait for him to say, “It’s okay,” before taking a drink.
You feel a bit better, your dry lips and throat soothed by the water, but you furrow your brows at the look on Deacon’s face. He waits for the men to exit, closing the door behind them, to speak.
“I think we just found their soft spot,” he explains. He doesn’t mention that he’s developing his own soft spot for you.
✯✯✯✯✯
You force yourself to cry, screaming in faux pain as you push yourself against the control you’re tied to. Hooking your arm through it, pretending to be trapped, you follow Deacon’s instructions exactly.
“Hey, she needs help!” Deacon yells toward the door. “She’s losing circulation!”
The door opens, and two men enter, looking between you and Deacon.
“She tried to turn around and her arm got caught, you need to get her help,” Deacon explains. “Look, I’m a trained medic. All right? Let me out of here. Let me help her.”
“Unlock him,” one of the men says.
You continue your act as Deacon is released, standing before pushing one of the men against the wall and reaching for his taser. The second man grabs Deacon from behind, slamming him against the metal machinery he’s been tied to for what seems like forever. He groans as the men resecure his bindings, elevating his arms over his head.
“Torres is gonna lose the fight. He’s gonna do whatever you want, so there is no reason to keep her trapped like an animal,” Deacon exclaims. “Let her go.”
The men leave without another word, and you lean your face against your hands as Deacon’s chin drops toward his chest.
✯✯✯✯✯
“How much time do you think we have?” You stretch your legs toward Deacon, wishing you were feeling talkative for any other reason.
“I don’t know,” he answers.
“What are we going to do? And please don’t say you don’t know.”
Deacon chuckles, raising his shoulders. “Ow.”
“What?” you ask, looking up as Deacon moves his hands on the metal beam above him.
You hear the wire around his wrists scrubbing, and you know it has to be torture on his shoulders, but you grow hopeful at the prospect of Deacon freeing himself.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Footsteps,” you alert, just as Deacon’s arms drop, the wire snapping.
He rises, stumbling as he gains his bearings before moving to a corner behind the door to wait. Deacon is keeping his promise, and once you are safe, he’s going to try to make you shy again. It’s not necessarily a noble goal, but if it’s enough to get him through the fight, that’s all he needs.
One man enters, and Deacon waits for him to walk past before wrapping one arm around his neck, pulling tightly until the man collapses. You watch as Deacon finds a taser in his pocket, taking it before moving to untie you.
“All right. Come here,” Deacon whispers, helping you to your feet. “Are you in any actual pain or was that just really good acting?”
“I’m okay.”
Deacon looks into your eyes, nodding before leading you into a hallway. Someone yells, the sound echoing through the building.
“You can go without me, Deacon,” you offer, trying to release his hand.
His grip tightens, and he pulls you closer. “No, listen. Go in here. I’m going to lock you in here. You’ll be safe. Trust me, they’re gonna think you escaped. You just stay as quiet as possible.”
You grab his hand again, finding the courage to look directly into his brown eyes as you ask, “Will you come back?”
“I promised, didn’t I?”
You nod, releasing his hand and stepping back as the metal door closes on you.
✯✯✯✯✯
While you grow scared, alone in a locked room, Deacon is working on keeping his promise. A few blocks away, Gio is throwing a fight to save you. If your life weren’t in danger, you wouldn’t be able to handle this much attention.
You hear a police officer radio that a suspect is down and call for help. The door opens, and a man in a SWAT uniform identifies himself as a police officer.
“I got you,” he says, leading you to another officer, who takes you toward the door.
In another part of the theater, Deacon climbs onto the edge of a balcony, waiting for the right moment to drop onto the Schupatz lookalike, attempting to tase him before fighting over a gun. As they roll over one another, the trigger is pulled, and several bullets are fired into the large projector screen showing the fight.
Deacon rises to his hands and knees, knocking the other man off balance as he stands. Moving behind him, Deacon tackles the man, knocking over the projector as they fall together. Pinning the man to the floor, Deacon punches him until he stops fighting back.
“Deac!” Tan yells, entering the theater.
Deacon says your name and Hondo answers, “She’s outside with the EMTs.”
“We got the whole crew,” Street adds.
“It’s good to see you, Schupatz,” Hondo jokes.
“Good to see you, too,” Deacon replies. “All of you.”
✯✯✯✯✯
At the same time that Gio learns you are safe and turns the tide of the fight, you are watching the theater entrance for Deacon. When he walks out, rushing toward you, you stand and meet him halfway, hugging him tightly and pressing your face into his dirty blazer.
“Your face is cut, sir, we’re gonna need to tape that,” an EMT says.
“Give me a minute,” Deacon answers, tightening his grip on you.
“Let ‘em do their job,” you murmur.
Deacon huffs, and you feel his heartbeat as you pull away. Holding your hand, Deacon pulls you with him as the paramedic cleans and tapes the cut on his cheekbone.
“Still pretty,” you whisper.
Smiling widely, Deacon turns his head toward you. When you duck your head and try to pull your hand from Deacon’s, he chuckles and tugs you closer.
“This would be a terrible time to find out you’re leaving with Torres,” he murmurs.
You shake your head, explaining you’re based in Los Angeles but do freelance work with celebrities while they’re in town. Deacon is sure you’re a popular choice, unwilling or unable to talk to celebrities simply because of who you are.
“Esther went into labor,” Hondo tells Deacon. “They’re at Shaw Memorial.”
Deacon leads you to a grey Dodge Charger, taking the keys from Street before helping you into the passenger seat. He smiles as he drives, glad he completed both promises: getting you out safe and making you shy afterward.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hi,” you greet, walking into Esther’s hospital room.
Deacon enters behind you, waiting at the foot of the bed while you hug Gio and Esther, extending a finger to their new baby. Chris arrives a moment later, and Gio turns his attention to her and Deacon.
“I’m not sure how to thank you,” he expresses, hugging Chris.
Deacon watches you and the baby, a caring look in his eye accompanying his smile.
“Padre,” Gio greets, shaking Deacon’s hand before hugging him too.
You roll your eyes at the nickname again, and Deacon smiles when he notices.
“Mira,” Gio says, directing attention to his son.
“We name him Jorge,” Esther adds.
“Congratulations,” Chris offers.
“Welcome to the world, little man,” Deacon cheers, looking at Jorge before his eyes return to you.
Chris moves to close the door, and Deacon tears his eyes from you to speak to Gio and Esther. “So I know this isn’t a great time, but the Cuban delegation is camped out down the hall. This might be our only chance to talk.”
“They charted a flight to Havana for you, leaving Monday morning,” Chris adds.
“So I contacted your immigration lawyer in San Francisco, and he said he’ll be here Sunday night.”
“Thank you so much,” Gio replies. “Pero, how did you know?”
“Someone gets talktative when they’re held hostage,” Deacon jokes, looking over at you.
“Gracias, hermana,” Gio says, pulling you into another hug.
You’re glad to hide from Deacon for a moment, but when it’s time to leave, he takes your hand, and your skin warms immediately.
“I shouldn’t talk to you ever again,” you tell him.
“But you will?” he asks.
You nod, and Deacon turns to you, the same caring look present in his eyes as he raises his free hand to your cheek.
“Then I’m glad I kept my promise.”
“Seems like you have a soft spot too,” you mumble against his hand, leaning toward him.
“Maybe I do,” Deacon agrees, smiling as he moves his hand, wrapping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. He kisses the crown of your head and laughs when you turn to hide against his suit again.
#david deacon kay x reader#shy!reader#david kay x reader#deacon kay x reader#david deacon kay#deacon kay#swat cbs#fem!reader
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Cuban Heat: A Feast of Flesh
The serendipitous encounter came at a crossroads of heat-stifled streets and contagious rhythms, where Havana's pulse beats strongest. There, under the sultry gaze of the Caribbean sun, I met Alejandro-cultivator of muscles, harbinger of masculine delirium. I laid out my offer, simple yet tempting: let me immortalize you with my camera, and the images will be a testament to your power. Our deal sealed with a nod and the promise of rum-fueled tales, we commenced our dance of the shutter.
The steamy studio was saturated with the scent of his manhood, mixed with a hint of coconut oil that clung to the air. Alejandro, a mountain of muscles, whose rugged exterior clashed beautifully with the vulnerable hunger in his eyes. As I wielded my 'OhMenFlex', a camera created to envelop and express the raw intensity of male erotica, it felt like capturing thunder within a storm. Alejandro, with his hair cropped short, the sides buzz-cut to perfection, and his untamed facial hair, was the embodiment of controlled power and untamed desire.
Lured by the urge to immortalize his formidable ass, each cheek was a sculpture of strength, peppered with beguiling freckles that drew my lenses and fingers in equal measure. The musculature was like rolling hills of solid flesh, each contour was a promise of untold stories of passion.
But it wasn't just the sight of that solid, pecan-strung rear that had me biting my lip-it was the fleshy column at his front. His pinga stood proud, a monument to primal lust, thick veins webbing the length like routes on a sailor's chart leading to ecstasy. Preseminal nectar, mixed with cum and other corporeal liquids, leaked from its swollen head, glossy and languid, a visual sigh of Alejandro's barely-contained arousal. The rosy hue of his glans, a shy apparition, barely peeking from the foreskin-a tease before the grand reveal.
The ruggedness of his form, the musky bouquet emanating from his pores, and the tactile sensation of his skin were as intoxicating as the most potent of liquors, making me drunk with the need to see more, to explore every inch of his physical tales.
As the camera clicked, capturing every illicit detail of the raw, feral scent of man. His body told stories my lens could barely contain, each frame a confession, every angle, a new sin. This was the art of man, unapologetic and unadorned, and I, the faithful scribe of this carnal worship.
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Blood Money (Tony Montana x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut) Chapter 1 – By Chance and Fate.
Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist.
18+, explicit smut read.
"You know how to protect yourself." / “I never say goodbye either. I say you’re gonna remember these faces—my face."
In the wrong place at the wrong time, you can hardly call your visit to Havana as a vacation but to secure your families legacy in empty promises and a forgotten home. From the moment you first laid eyes on Tony, you knew you'd never forget his face or his name. Tomorrow, Tony and Manny would be as good as American, leaving Cuba for good but with their minds set on your hometown in Miami. Having saved your life in the blink of an eye, you're set to repay the favor by finding out just who Tony Montana is, and why he's looking and waiting for you.
[WARNINGS]: Explicit depictions & themes of violence / Minor character death / Explicit mention of injury & blood / Guns.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: It's finally here, just as promised!! 🥴🥰 The first chapter of my newest multi-chapter fic and it's all about Tony and the reader! You can expect a lot of sexy, kinky, dirty smut upcoming in this one. 🥵🥵 I honestly wasn't planning on doing a multi-chapter fic for Tony but then the ideas hit and I couldn't help myself lmao. Our Reader is Celeste Navarro who was also in my Tony Montana x Reader smut oneshot! ❤️ This fic is gonna be following the entire plot of the film side by side with Tony and Manny with two different endings for you guys to decide which one you prefer too. 😏 Say hello to Chapter 1!
With a taste for success and dollar bills, Tony Montana’s drug empire grew in vast wealth, power and influence by your side as the kingpin’s lover. From sharing an intimate history in Cuba, you and Manny Ribera were the only ones to believe and support Tony from rags to riches. Embroiled in the same lifestyle and sharing enemies, you and Tony come to build your empire and world together with the threat of it collapsing from the inside. As partnership turns to betrayal and thrill to danger, you find yourself in-between ultimatums and sacrifices for the man you love.
[ Havana, Cuba, 1983 ]
‘This was supposed to be paradise. For me. For mama, and for Gina. Home was enough.’
Abandoned homes once filled with growing families, shattered windows only revealing the emptiness inside and barred doors to ward off curiosity and anyone leading from the path of nostalgia surrounds the streets in which Tony and Manny grew up.
‘I never knew my father well. I forgot him. I don’t care. He left us, I left him too.’
Spending their childhood playing ball with the other children for hours on end after school with a tight-knit community, neighbors who knew one another and looked out for each other now only to see it as nothing but an abandoned slum puts nothing but resent and disappointment in Tony and Manny’s hearts.
‘Then Mama and Gina left too, to paradise. Didn’t wait for me but I’m coming. I know then, I know now. My time was coming.’
Abandoned by most residents due to poverty and safety concerns, all Tony and Manny’s childhood neighborhood can do is serve as nostalgia and a final goodbye—nothing more.
‘I’m gonna go too. Make my own paradise. Trust nobody but me. I be the millionaire that thank nobody. That’s what I wanna be.’
Dressed in a pair of slacks and a white beater top stained with sweat from the heat and humidity of the day, this is nothing but a trip down memory lane for the last time since Tony and Manny might as well live it down.
“This no fucking family street no more, man,” Tony mumbles, looking up at the rotting wooden planks barring up doors and smashed windows; loose, twisted nails sticking out of crumbling walls with chunks of chipping paint peeled off. “This a fucking dump.”
“They ruined this place, man,” Manny frowns at his surroundings, realizing how noticeably dingy and disgusting the block appears with shadows cast over it from the setting sun. “We was right here, playing together in the streets.”
“Mama used to watch us up from there, remember?” Tony points up at his childhood home, no different from the rest remaining to be eyesores down the block. “When we play ball with the kids from the other neighborhood. Now look at all that.”
Whether some of the surrounding buildings may still be occupied as hideouts or drug houses are another story altogether, but it’s a bitter visit for the two prepared to never return back to Havana again.
“Knew it like the back of my hand,” Tony’s eyes dart over his neighbor’s worn down, abandoned home. “Mama always say gotta get through these kinda places to get what you want.”
“Mama didn’t see no communists coming, man,” Manny kicks a pebble in front of him glumly.
Poverty wasn’t completely unknown in these streets, but the bond and sense of community overpowered everything else.
When Tony and Manny were just children growing up, they witnessed firsthand for themselves families helping other families, neighbors taking turns to watch the kids out in the streets, keeping the neighborhood clean, and supporting every resident that one could.
But with Castro, the communists, and rebellions pouring through incessantly over the last many years, the next time poverty struck Tony and Manny’s hometown, it struck hard and was here to outlast every last resident.
Folks gathered all they had and wept through their goodbyes to all they knew was once their home but had to move on for their own safety. The last thing anyone wanted was trouble or to see murderers and petty thieves littering the streets.
Nobody looked back, no matter how much they wanted to, and the same was also said for Tony and Manny’s families too.
Manny’s family moved to an entirely different city altogether, but Tony’s mother and sister were easily and quickly approved to immigrate to the United States.
Tony saw the streets as an escape and knew his country like the back of his hand, but his absence from home and disobedience towards his mother was the exact reason why Tony found out the hard way that he was staying behind; everyone had already left and only looked out for themselves.
Tony had a deadbeat, absent father who already officially abandoned the family years back, but with his mother and sister leaving for the United States, Tony would have to be stupid to stick around in Havana any longer.
Memories or not, this neighborhood can’t mean anything to Tony and Manny now. Since the two left, they stayed in a house together and never looked back—waiting for their chance to immigrate to the United States too.
After months of bickering, confusion, and paperwork, Tony and Manny refused to relent and give up; they were determined on the process from beginning to end.
Tonight officially marks Tony and Manny’s last night in Havana, let alone Cuba. The two are set to board a ship bound for the United States, leaving everything behind for good as they sought.
Tomorrow, Tony and Manny may just consider themselves as good as Americans. Tomorrow, they’d start a new life and forget Havana—forget home—and gladly leave everything behind.
That’s what’s supposed to happen. That’s what’s waiting for Tony and Manny and all they were waiting for was an opportunity to get out and go into a paradise of their own in Miami, Florida.
Tony was never supposed to meet you. You were never supposed to see each other or cross each other’s paths. Tony wasn’t supposed to wait for you more than he wanted to wait for anything in his life.
It should have never reached a point where Tony couldn’t live in his paradise and call the empire he built up for himself home without having you in it too.
You think you’re simply in the wrong place at the wrong time but you’re exactly where Tony could ever want you to be right now. All Tony wishes he can do is change the circumstances.
~
“It wasn���t exactly home to us, but it was home to your grandfather. He loved Havana. For him it was a bit of paradise, so he decided to invest in it.”
Coming to a stop in your tracks, you pull out the crumpled note from your purse that your father gave to you shortly before you planned your trip to Havana for one reason alone—to visit the address scribbled upon it.
“It’s a villa, mostly used as a vacation residence but it's at the heart of the neighborhood. Your grandfather spoke very fondly of it up until his death, but I’ve never even seen so much as a photograph or deed of the estate before.”
You can practically imagine your father’s shock and disappointment if he was here with you right now. Standing at the very address the villa is supposed to be located is nothing but ruins and vandalism—a neighborhood intentionally left to rot.
“Is it home to you? To us?”
After all, you have no other reason to visit Havana other than to make sense of your family’s legacy and put the pieces together and despite having low hopes for what you’d find, you never expected to come face to face with nothingness—with destruction.
“It can’t be, can it? We have no connections to Havana. We don’t know anyone. It can’t be home to us of all people now.”
Nothingness has never been worth saving and you never felt it becoming your truth with every step you took down this lifeless neighborhood just to get here.
Greeted by chunks of glass sticking through dried mud, torn cloth, remnants of smashed belongings, broken nails, and garbage by your feet, there’s nothing that can possibly feel like home here to you now.
‘The least I can do is let father know.’ You frown at the address upon the note, only imagining the plot of land here can be sold eventually if this place ever gets cleaned up, but still unable to push past and ignore the swelling disappointment in your heart knowing you’ll forever be barred from appreciating what your grandfather loved so much in the past.
Only the calming evening breeze brushing up against you and taking away torn newspapers on the street can be heard with the distant sound of a dog barking from down the block now.
You’re neither familiar nor used to Havana; not the feeling of home that may have been here, not the environment, not the people, and not what seems to be the sounds of an empty street upon an abandoned neighborhood that deceives you so.
Eyes linger over you from the rubble of a half-burned-down home, well concealed and knowing where to remain to watch your every movement from the shadows promised by the evening hours set in.
There’s nothing you can do to appear inconspicuous—like you’re a nobody. Trained eyes from an experienced thief knows a tourist when he sees one, especially a wealthy American tourist.
Having someone like you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time only lets those with ill intentions benefit with ease, and this town’s thief isn’t hesitating to make you his next victim.
Sighing quietly to yourself, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as you slip the note back into your pocket.
Upon opening your eyes again, you stare back down at the rubble of drywall and shrapnel from damaged and destructed homes in front of you—mixed and clumped up amidst one another.
‘This could be from anybody’s home. This could mean nothing.’ Barely having an idea of what to do or look at you, you lean down and pick up a chunk of drywall that appears to be deliberately smashed out of a home.
‘But this could have been my home.’ Still, your heart ultimately feels indifference rather than any kind of relief or sadness.
Without having any connections or memories bound to this place, you simply can’t mourn what isn’t there.
You can’t help but wonder what happened to such a grand estate so highly spoken of after all of this time, but it’ll make more sense to your father than anyone else.
‘This is all that’s left of here now.’ You run your hand over the cracked drywall, giving your head a shake. ‘It’s too late to tell what happened here, but everything’s gone. Everyone’s gone.’
“Tony, c’mon man,” Manny gives Tony’s shoulder a nudge, “let’s head back. Ain’t nothin’ left here.”
“I know there’s nothing, man,” Tony grumbles, gesturing towards the streets. “That’s why we here, you know that. Look at this. I wanna see this place, just one last time.”
“Making memories?” Manny chuckles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
“Fuck kinda memories anyone can make here,” Tony scoffs, “they say where we going is paradise. Miami. Mama moved us to Havana, says this is paradise. No fuckin’ paradise look like this, man.”
“No, man,” Manny agrees, shaking his head. “This a dead man’s street now.”
Manny’s eyes fall upon the tightly boarded-up front doors, barring everything in and refusing to let anything out on each and every crumbling home down the block.
“No paradise left here for us, and you know I ain’t ever gonna come back. No way, man.” Tony lets out a huff of frustration.
“Oh yeah?” Manny grins back, “not for visit either?”
“Visit what, man?” Tony furrows his brows, “when I make it, I don’t wanna come back and see this again but I always remember where I come from, you know,” Tony points at his chest, “I never forget. I can think about it. I don’t gotta come back and see it.”
“Me too man, me too,” Manny shrugs—the smile beginning to fade off his face. “I don’t wanna feel like no fish out of water.”
Meanwhile, as you’re surrounded by a mountain of rubble and shrapnel in a blocked-off street, the only option for you to get back to your hotel would be to turn around and make your way down the same street Tony and Manny are on.
With no other exits or places to turn to, you’re hardly aware of the lurking thief well hidden from your sight but directly in Tony’s perspective just from where he stands alone.
Before you can even spin around or move out of the way as a reflex for hearing footsteps suddenly grow so loud behind you, you hear the voice of your stalker before you feel or see him.
“Put it down, princess.” A smoker speaking through a husky low tone threatens you.
You feel the thief’s chest pressing into your shoulder blade, prompting you to remain as still as possible.
Had you flinched just now, the very tip of the thief’s blade he teasingly presses against your face may have just sliced your cheek clean.
You swallow hard, immediately feeling your heart thundering in your chest from being caught unaware in complete shock—anxious and terrified as your mind attempts to process what’s happening to you.
“Don’t move now,” the thief chuckles quietly over your shoulder.
The tips of your ears and the nape of your neck prickle hot in response, attempting to think through just how you’d be able to bash this man’s face in with the chunk of rubble in your hand without getting stabbed directly in the face.
“This isn’t a tourism center, sweetheart. What you doin’ in the rough neighborhoods?” The thief begins to slowly move his hand towards your cross-body purse by your hip.
“You’ll see. For now, we say goodbye to these streets—” Tony points out, all the more confident of his future solely outside of Havana.
“What, man?” Manny blinks, noticing Tony immediately coming to a halt down the middle of the street.
Stopping dead in his tracks, Tony’s muscles stiffen as a threatening scowl sours over his expression—looking towards you just a short distance down and around the corner.
Petty criminals loitering down in old neighbors are all the same to Tony and many others, but Tony and Manny both recognize the face of this one slowly inching his way toward you.
“You know her, man?” Manny asks quietly, whispering.
Both Manny and Tony remain completely still but poised to jump in and sprint down at any moment.
“No,” The glare over Tony’s expression has turned into a death stare as he analyzes the slow, creeping movements of the thief using the noise of the city streets around him to his advantage. “See this fuckin’ guy again back down here—fuckin’ asshole want another tourist as a victim.”
“Don’t wanna say anything?” Observant just as much as he’s sly, the thief begins to press the tip of the blade further into your cheek as he notices you gripping the rubble chunk tighter in your hand. “C’mon, talk to me.”
Your stare towards the mountain of rubble before you is vacant and unfocused, simply waiting for the right moment to strike and lunge out of the way when the thief least expects it.
“I can make this quick,” the thief places his grim-covered hand over your leather purse. “Tourists ain’t short of any money and you won’t find nothin’ down here. Empty your pockets. Maybe I won’t hurt you too much—”
“HEY! Fuck you, man!” Tony calls out from behind, sprinting down the street with Manny as he grips his pistol tucked behind him in the waistband of his slacks.
With the thief recognizing Tony’s voice and being momentarily stunned by the sight of two men rushing directly towards him, every precious second in-between has bought you all the more time to defend yourself.
Without hesitation, you swing your arm back and smash the chunk of rubble in your hand over the thief’s forehead twice with as much force as you can muster.
Before Tony and Manny can approach the two of you, the thief cries out in pain before slumping to the floor disoriented and beginning to heavily bleed from his forehead.
You back off from the man as much as you can, just a moment before Tony and you both make split-second eye contact then see the thief trying to reach for his knife over the pavement.
“Don’t fuckin’ think so!” Tony aims his gun at the thief’s legs, firing two shots into both kneecaps with impeccable accuracy. “Lady put you down for a fuckin’ reason!”
Your eyes bulge in horror as you watch the thief howl in pain—blood spurting from his shattered kneecaps and instantly immobilizing him and all of his movements.
Still clutching onto the chunk of rock in your hand, you stare back at the two strangers in front of you with caution but it’s more than clear to you that they aim to help you rather than rob or hurt you too.
“Damn,” Manny huffs, scowling down at the thief. “You again, huh? Fuck is your name? George something? Fuck you doing down here again?”
“NO! NO, STOP!” The thief shrieks the moment Tony takes another step toward him.
“You fuckin’ piece of shit,” Tony kicks up gravel towards him, cocking his pistol back and aiming it directly at the thief’s head this time. “Got tired of digging through old rocks, now you chasing women, huh? What I tell you, huh?! This is my neighborhood, so if you fuck with it, you fuck with me!”
“I-I don’t—I was going—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Tony shouts over him, wrapping his finger around the trigger.
“Dead end, man,” Manny shakes his head at the thief; his eyes trailing upward to meet yours for the first time.
“I teach you what happens when you fuck with my neighborhood,” Tony grits his teeth, pulling the trigger.
‘Holy fuck!’ You flinch from the impact of blood and brain matter splattering around the three of you, painting over the layers of dust upon the rubble mountain just behind you.
Tony’s expression and disposition almost immediately cool as he glances down at his gun with a hint of amusement in his eyes—tucking it behind him once again before turning to face you with Manny as if nothing just happened.
You breathe heavily, attempting to make sense of everything that occurred in front of you within just a few seconds—now standing just a few feet away from a corpse and two armed men curious to see you more than anything else.
Both men before you are complete strangers but from appearances alone, you’re already mistaking them for brothers.
Your eyes fall upon Tony and Tony only, taking into account his sweaty and frustrated demeanor and fierce attitude—drenched in grease and grime from the Havana heat and filth of the city.
The fading scar slashed over Tony’s left eye immediately attracts your attention but your newfound attraction to this man begins to grow all the more apparent to you now with each passing moment.
“Nice weapon,” Manny chuckles, gesturing to the chunk of rubble in your hand. “But no match for Tony’s gun.”
You clear your throat quietly, dropping the piece of rubble as your eyes dart over to Manny’s.
Manny’s hair is a disheveled mix of gel and sweat combed back and he carries a mischievous grin over his lips.
Taller than Tony but sharing the same lean, slim build, you notice a genuinely friendly and playful look in Manny’s expression and hear genuine care in his voice whereas with barely any conversation in or knowing who these two men are, its already become clear to you that Tony may as well be the “tough guy” between the two, but with no need to pretend.
“Hey,” Tony gives Manny a nudge, rolling his eyes. “Gotta give her credit. How was that, huh?” Tony smirks at you, impressed. “That was a good move. You know how to protect yourself.”
“I have to,” you reply back, still standing your ground and unaware of it.
“Good, I like that,” Tony grins back. “Lot of guys like that in other neighborhoods, but not lot of guys like me. We gotta look out for another, you know? I here, Manny here—” Tony gestures to Manny, revealing his name to you. “This is our place. We gotta do the lookout. You okay?” Tony begins to approach you.
“Yeah,” you remain still, steadying your breathing. “Just… Startled, that’s all.”
Tony’s eyes dart up and down your body from head to toe, looking for injury but also taking in the sight of what he likes at the same time. “Okay, good. Little cockroach didn’t hurt our new friend either.”
“You a tourist?” Manny asks.
“Barely,” you answer back, dusting off your hands. “I came here to see if the estate my father inherited existed.”
“Ah, yeah,” Tony purses his lips, “lot of tourists come down from time to time for that but see—” Tony gestures towards the pile of rubble to your side. “Nothing left. They always leave empty-handed. All gone.”
“This a junkyard now, man,” Manny agrees, nodding. “Nothing here no more.”
“Fuck’s sake,” you sigh to yourself in relief, touching your cheek where the petty criminal was about to dig his blade into. “There’s nothing, there’s just nothing. All of this for nothing.”
“Heh, no danger, no reward, huh?” Tony chuckles to himself, “but no problem for you. You an American. One made of money.”
“And what’s it to you?” You raise a brow, beginning to grow somewhat offended by the way Tony’s so openly and casually speaking to you.
“Nothing,” Tony holds back a laugh as Manny looks down at the ground with a wide smile on his lips. “Just saying, we won’t be so different later. We not gonna be down here no more, like you. No, Castro fucked this place good. We calling America home, starting tomorrow.”
“Miami, right?” It’s not the first you’ve heard of it, and certainly not the first from Havana.
“Oh, you know?” Manny blinks, looking up at you.
“You two would neither be the first nor the last, I’m assuming,” you reply back. “Yeah, I know something about it. I live in Miami myself. There’s a camp down in Florida already.”
“So you know where we going?” Tony seems all the more amused. “American tourist one step ahead of us. What you know about the place?”
“I know that you can be in that camp for longer than you ever thought you could be anywhere,” you tell him, “for months on end, waiting to get approved and get into the process for a green card. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it? You can barely do a thing without it there anyway.”
“Well, yeah,” Manny shrugs his shoulders, “we gonna live in the country.”
“You know a lot, not just little,” Tony’s gaze over you turns curious, “maybe you help us, huh? Like you Americans say, I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”
“I can’t say,” you stare back at Tony and Manny. “At least not here, and not now. The least you two could tell me are your names.”
“Tony,” Tony points to his chest with a devilish grin. “Antonio Montana.”
“Manny Ribera,” Manny says with a beaming smile.
“And you?” Tony’s eyes momentarily dart up from your chest to your eyes. “What you call yourself?”
“Celeste Navarro,” you introduce yourself—noticing Tony’s curious, wandering eyes already.
“Celeste Navarro…” Tony repeats to himself, “my first American friend and she wanna help me. All Americans like you must be so nice.”
“Only if you know who to talk to,” you crack a smile, nodding. “But you think I owe you two a favor now.”
“A favor? No, sweetheart,” a smirk forms over Tony’s lips, “not me, not Manny. Nothing.” Tony nudges the corpse of the thief aside with his foot, rolling the body over. “And you know, no worry about that. Bodies here disappear overnight. You know how it is. It dangerous here, so we can’t say it a favor. Just what you have to do. That’s why I carry one on me,” Tony pats his gun tucked in the back waistband of his slacks. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Tony,” Manny mutters, nudging his back. “Don’t say it like that, man.”
“I never said I was ungrateful,” you’re unphased by the comment. “I’m certainly not.”
“I know,” Tony rakes a hand through his choppy hair. “I never say goodbye either. I say you’re gonna remember these faces—my face. We not so far from each other, right? Not gonna be.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” you roll your eyes, up to your limit from enough tough guy talk. “But good luck anyway,” clutching your purse, you turn around to face the street and begin heading off.
“Don’t take no scenic route!” Tony shouts back after you.
Ignoring him, you roll your eyes and pick up your pace—only focused on getting the hell out of here and putting this day to rest knowing you could have gotten yourself killed over a pile of rocks and nothing more.
“Wow, man,” Manny cringes, putting his hands behind his back. “That could be better.”
“That was the best, man,” Tony boasts proudly. “You don’t get it.”
“Don’t get what, man?” Manny scoffs, chuckling.
“I thank her, she thank me,” Tony points out, “that’s all. Now if I American like her and I live in Miami—nuh uh, no way, man. No way,” Tony shakes his head, “I no coming down to see pile of rocks here even if someone tell me there’s a big house. No.”
“I don’t know, man,” Manny lets out a deep sigh of relief, “these Americans live different, you know?”
“She gonna see me again,” Tony decides, nodding.
“Tony, seriously—” Manny can no longer hold back his laughter, “it a small world here, huh?”
“Celeste, Celeste…” Tony murmurs, repeating your name. “I say this ‘cause you know how it’s gonna go.” Tony bends down, picking up a blood-stained chunk of rubble. “The police or whatever guys they got in the camps over there not gonna keep us safe. They just gonna ask the questions…”
Tony turns around, staring at the bloody, lifeless corpse of the thief before his feet. “Give you the green card, yes or no, but they gonna ask—” Tony’s eyes meet with Manny’s. “They gonna ask if you know an American, I gonna say yes. I say yes, I know Celeste Navarro. So she gonna see me again, Chico, not because she owe me for killing this cockroach. She gonna see me again because I wanna see her.”
#scarface#scarface 1983#al pacino#tony montana#tony montana x reader#tony montana x reader smut#tony montana x oc#tony montana smut#scarface x reader#scarface x reader smut#blood money fic#blood money fanfic
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Songs4Caplan Challenge
Definitely supposed to be on hiatus, but I'd wanted to host another challenge. Please don't let this flop lmao
Rules:
Tag me in the authors notes & send me a message with yuor fic once it's posted! (along with the hashtag so I know which Masterlist to place the fic when I post it)
Please tag the proper warnings before the fic
Can be ANY CHARACTER YOU'D LIKE!!
More than one person can write for the same prompts
RPFs are allowed
If you’d like to write for more than one song, please make them separate fics
the songs are randomly picked from my playlist, so don't judge lol.
Can be however long you’d like the fic to be, however, please be considerate to the folks using the app and place the 'keep reading' feature on your posts!!
PLEASE tag the fic as #songs4caplan so i can easily find your fics!!!
Addicted to you simple plan
Africa Toto
All downhill from here new found glory
All for you sister hazel
All summer long kid Rock
Alone together fall out boy
Amnesia 5 seconds of summer
Animals maroon 5
As it was Harry styles
as the world caves in Sarah cothran
Ashes of Eden breaking Benjamin
Attention Charlie put
Bad guy Billie eillish
Bad things jace Everett
Beautiful mistakes maroon 5
Beautiful soul Jesse McCartney
Before he cheats carrie underwood
Before you go Lewis capaldi
Beggin maneskin
Better than me hinder
Blue ain’t your color Keith urban
Burn usher
Car radio twenty one pilots
Church fall out boy
Climax usher
Come & get it Selena Gomez
Count on me Bruno mars
Criminal Fiona Apple
Deja vu Olivia rodrigo
Delicate Taylor swift
Diary Tino Coury
Dirty laundry Carrie underwood
Dirty thoughts Chloe adams
Don’t call me up Mabel
Downtown lady a
Drivers license Olivia rodrigo
Easy on Adele
End of me a day to remember
Every breath you take the police
Every morning sugar ray
Everybody hurts r.e.m.
Fall for you secondhand serenade
Fallin Alicia keys
Fast car Tracy Chapman
Flowers Miley Cyrus
For the first time the script
Forever young alphaville
Forever and ever amen randy Travis
Fuck it Eamon
Fuck you bitch wheeler walker jr
Ghost of you Justin beiber
Glimpse of us Joji
God gave me you Blake Shelton
Hate (I really don’t like you) plain white tees
Havana Camilla cabello
Heart attack Demi lovato
Heartbreak anniversary giveon
Heaven Kane brown
Hello darlin Conway twitty
Hold on, we’re going on drake
How do you sleep Jesse McCartney
Hurt Johnny cash
I fall apart post Malone
I miss you blink 182
I see red everybody loves an outlaw
I wanna be your slave maneskin
I’m not the only one Sam smith
I’m the only one Melissa Ethridge
I’m yours Alessia Cara
In my blood Shawn Mendes
It ain’t me baby me Johnny cash
Jealous nick Jonas
Just one yesterday fall out boy
Just the way you are Bruno mars
Keep Holding On Avril Lavigne
Killer queen Queen
The last of the real ones
Leave the door open Bruno mars
Leavin’ Jesse McCartney
Let her go passenger
Like I can Sam smith
Lips of an angel hinder
Little do you know Alex & sierra
Little Talks Mumfords & sons
Mama's broken heart Miranda lambert
Man down Rihanna
Misery Maroon 5
My Boo usher & Alicia keys
Needed Me Rihanna
Never gonna be alone Nickelback
New Rules Dua Lipa
Not Over You Gavin DeGraw
Obsessed Mariah Carey
One Call Away Charlie Puth
One More Night Maroon 5
Our Song Taylor Swift
Picture KidRock & Sherry Crow
PillowTalk Zayn Malik
Please Don’t Leave Me Pink
Red Taylor Swift
Remember the time Michael Jackson
Rolling in the deep Adele
Say My Name Destiny’s Child
Say So Doja Cat
She’s Got You Patsy Cline
Shower Becky G
Smokin out the Window Bruno Mars
Someone You Loved Lewis Capaldi
Stay With Me Sam Smith
Take a Bow Rihanna
Take Me to Church Hozier
Take You Dancing Jason Derulo
There’s Nothing Holdin Me Back Shawn Mendes
Title Meghan Trainor
Too Good at Goodbyes Sam Smith
Too Little Too LAte JoJo
Trip Ella Mae
Trouble P!Nk
True Love P!NK
Unfaithful RIhanna
Unholy Sam smith
Unsteady X Ambassadors
Uptown Girl Billy Joel
Wait For You Elliot Yamin
Walk Me Home P!NK
Walkin After Midnight Patsy Cline
Want U Back Cher Lloyd
What a Man Gotta Do Jonas Brothers
What Ifs Kane Brown
Wolves Selena Gomez
Would You Go With Me? Josh Turner
You Found Me The Fray
You Had Me @ Hello A Day to Remember
You Need to Calm Down, Taylor Swift
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