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mandalhoerian · 1 year ago

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Shai! Shai! I've thought of another scenario for Leon😊 Altho being a new fan I've come to the conclusion that Leon is the type to believe he's not good enough for his partner, he believes they could do better then him. So imagine a Leon who has finally accepted he has feelings for you and works up the courage to confess only for you to turn the tables on him and say you dont feel good enough for him. I imagine he would be in disbelief? How would he react to his crush telling him "You're too good for me Leon."?

too good for me | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x reader (unspecified gender) genre: fluff, miscommunication, the "endeared badass x normal person scared shitless of the endeared badass" trope. no spice, unfortunately. only good vibes and leon being head over heels smitten. enjoy! word count: 2.7K? It's short! notes: hi sarah! i am SO SORRY this has taken forever. you requested this one month ago! its been so hectic lately, i've been having health problems that required regular hospital visits and tests upon tests, but now that my surgery (yeah i know... yikes) is authorized i'm only waiting for them to call me for the date and have all the time in the world to get my rest and write. i'm also working on your other (wink wink) request! thank you so much for being patient with me. hope this is what you had in mind! i also added my touch and ideas to it lmao. happy reading!!

🌀 read on ao3!

“You’re too good for me,” is the hesitant, small answer you give him while avoiding eye contact and playing with your fingers in front of your office’s shared coffee maker Leon had made countless paperwork excuses to be able to simply stop by — to his question, that is, about why you wouldn’t go on a simple date with him.

You puff out an awkward laugh to smooth things over as humorous but it’s forced and not at all sincere.

It’s taken Leon a whole inner journey (Spain. Mostly the simultaneous trauma and catharsis of Spain) to get over himself to recognize what his heart truly wanted but was too pussy to look at before, yet here you two are. The lone angel in his life telling the failure Leon is that he’s too good? For you?

He simply stares, dumbly standing there, piping hot coffee that’s actually incompatible with his taste buds he insists he must do a detour to get from here simply because you often do, stiff and awkward in his hold, thinking he heard you wrong because he hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest — rest, not sleep — in forever since he came back from Spain.

He’s been forcing himself to come to work just for a glimpse of you and your pretty face to recharge his battery, heal his soul a bit, let you be all that occupies his mind despite being laid off after that outrageous mission that resulted in the president’s unwanted favor and nightmares upon nightmares with only anxious yet soothing thoughts of you as the best bad out of the worst he’s had to face— and what is it that you said again?

“You’re joking right?” Leon says, pride not knowing if it should be broken or not because he’s not sure to take this as a rejection, and it isn’t his intention for it to sound that harsh. He’s not some asshole who can’t take no for an answer, it’s your reasoning that has him downright jamming like a gun.

Leon has to remind himself to switch off work mode because now you look mousey as if he has a paw on your tail, shoulders pulled into yourself. “Sorry!” He feels so bad, heart expanding within his ribcage and it aches, fuck, he just wanted to ask you out and all he’s doing is scaring you. “I’m sorry, you were kidding. I didn’t get it— I’m kinda slow and you sound flat sometimes, of course you weren’t serious, I’m—”

“No, I was serious.” His eyebrows furrow at yet another self-degradation from you. “It’s you who has to be kidding. What do you mean too good for you?”

You are at a loss of words, mouth opening but nothing coming out, and finally look him in the eye and all Leon wants to do is lean down and capture your mouth, he’s heavily distracted by you licking your lips and swallowing, the sighting of the tip of your pink tongue makes his shirt suddenly suffocating and tight.

“I mean,” you begin tentatively, unaware of what’s going on in his head, vaguely gesturing to Leon. “Well… You’re you, I mean… And I’m. Me. Look at you and look at me. Why would you even…?”

“Hey,” Leon sets his mug on the counter, closing his eyes and pinching the insides with his thumb and pointer. The implications alone sent a zapping headache through his skull that he knows he has to rest to be able to unpack, especially when he’s finally decided on seriously pursuing you in spite of himself. Leon can’t let this remain unaddressed, for your sake and his sanity. “How about I wait for you after work today and we talk about this somewhere else?” He’s squinting. “In detail.”

“We don’t really need to—”

“We do.” Leon wants you to see he’s serious about this — about you. “Because I see something here that I want to pursue and we can’t have any misunderstandings. Would appreciate it if you at least give me the chance to clear the air.”

“P-pursue?” You swallow and Leon’s mind wanders again. “Clear the air you say…”

He breathes in. “Can you give me your phone?”

You slap it into his palm almost immediately, the speed with which you obey him without asking him any questions surprises him. He wants to scold if you’re willing to hand over your mobile to any guy who asks, but supposes it’s not his place — is frustrated this is what it takes to get him annoyed, as well. He isn’t some young adult. Weirdly, you make him feel like one.

He’s punching his own number in, despite the conflicting feelings, finally feeling like this is getting somewhere and he’s doing it when you start talking again, nervous. “You can uh, clear the air… right here… without taking me to a secondary location…”

His eyes flick up to yours in confusion and you look to the right immediately, and back to him. To the right. Back to him. It’s somehow comedic, because why do you look like you’re cornered by some bad guy?

You really look like you want to be anywhere else than here, Leon’s fucking this up and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing wrong. Was he going too fast? Should he have told you his number and let you save it instead?

You’re mumbling, nervousness clear as day for reasons he can’t fathom, he hears you, but he doesn’t really understand.

“What? What's wrong?" Leon asks, his voice laced with genuine concern. He takes a step closer, wanting to bridge the gap between you and alleviate whatever discomfort you were experiencing. "You seem... uneasy. Did I do something wrong?"

Your eyes meet his briefly, then quickly shift away again, as if you are struggling to find the right words.

Leon's heart sinks. His intention wasn’t to make you feel nervous or pressured, especially when he is genuinely trying to connect with you — then, in a brilliant moment of heart-stopping realization, the fact that you might just not be interested slaps him in the face and he’s…

Well. Wouldn’t that be the reality?

Leon is… He isn’t exactly the ideal man. Not with what he does, and how his life is. He’s aware of that. Have been running from forming connections because of what he knows will end up happening because of that. He can’t get attached and keep losing people — can’t keep getting hurt in the vicious cycle to prevent everyone from getting hurt. It’s been the bane of his existence ever since STRATCOM plucked him off straight from Raccoon City. Even if you work in the same field as him, just different offices, who is to say it will work out anyway?

He’s getting ahead of himself. You might not like him at all in the first place. Jesus.

Maybe you see him for what he is. Maybe you think he’s not —- the effort’s not worth it, and you wouldn’t exactly be wrong in thinking so. You could be wanting something else in life that he only has the desire to give you, and not the promise. He wouldn’t blame you, hell, who would blame someone for being their own person with their thoughts, wishes, wants and goals in life?

You’re too good for me, really, is his line. It has been right from the beginning, his excuse in running away from his undeniable, frightening attraction to you.

"No, it's not you," you finally managed to articulate, prompting Leon to release the breath he was holding, your voice shaky, playing with your fingers. "I just... I feel a bit overwhelmed. This is all happening so fast, and I never expected..."

Leon nods, his expression softening as he realizes the weight of the situation. He hasn’t fully considered how his sudden confession and determination to pursue you might have caught you off guard. He has been so focused on his own feelings that he hasn’t taken into account your own thoughts and emotions.

"I understand," he replies, voice gentle and reassuring. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just... I couldn't keep my feelings to myself anymore. But please know that I don't expect an immediate answer or any commitment from you. I just… Well. I just wanted to tell you. See where this goes. Or, maybe, if that’s not the case… Get rejected for good so I can move on, you know?"

You laugh a little and it’s genuine — you have no idea how it turns Leon’s heart into putty right where it hangs between two lungs. “Do you really mean all of that?”

“Of course,” he says, offended the tiniest bit. “Why do you think I would joke about something like this?”

“It’s not about you joking, really…” You’re uncomfortable again, hesitating to tell him something.

“Hey, you can tell me.”

“Can you promise you won’t get mad?”

“What am I, your father?” He snorts. “Come on, tell me.”

You brace yourself for it and he doesn’t understand why until you say it. “You, um… You’re kinda scary.”

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Sorry!” You raise your hands up in panic. “I don’t really mean it like that, not to insult you or anything, it’s actually admirable, I’m just saying! Discipline, work ethic, unmatched field performance! You’re very… Very, uh… Intimidating, yeah, that’s the word…? I mean, like… You, uh, you’re famous, you know, we all know your work, you’re very hard working, working hard, very hard work — uh, um… So it’s…”

“I scare you?” Leon swears he felt his eyes get bigger the faster you kept on vomiting words. “You think I would hurt you?”

“No!” You reject strongly, waving a nervous hand at him. Silence befalls later, which you follow awkwardly with a silent, guilty. “Maybe,” after clearing your throat.

He had always strived to be a protector, but he hadn't realized that his image and reputation — what it had become after Spain — could have such an effect on someone he cares about.

"I never meant to scare you," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine remorse, he puts the coffee mug on the counter and leans his hip on it, shoulders sagging a bit as he crosses his arms. The thought of you only feeling intimidation about him leaves a bitter taste worse than the coffee does. "I guess... I've always been so focused on work, on the dangers just around the corner — I’m aware how it might affect my relationships in the long run so I never attempted to form any at all, but I never realized how it might affect how people see me in the first place. I never wanted to make you, of all people, feel this way. I could never hurt you. Never."

“I didn’t want to imply you’re a guy who’d intentionally hurt someone—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, ruffling his hair to get rid of the awkwardness. “So I’ve just been bugging you this whole time, huh? Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, don’t say that, you’re amazing! You’re like a hero around here…”

“Around here doesn’t mean shit,” he replies curtly, and regrets cursing like that in front of you immediately. It’s unbecoming of him — and doesn’t help his image in your eyes at all. He’s getting frustrated. His tone lowers into a softer, more disappointed, heartfelt one. “I only care about how you think of me.”

“Well, you’re amazing,” you say again, bashfully this time, and it prompts him to look at you. There’s something shy about you now that has him standing taller in anticipation, wondering if it’s him reading this wrong or not. “It’s pretty well-known if you didn’t know.”

“I don’t know,” he prods, idiot heart fluttering at the way you’re flustered. “What do you think? Besides intimidating, I mean. Not reporting on the local gossip this time, if you don’t mind.”

“You seem like a nice guy,” you settle. The middle ground. “I’ve seen you with the president’s daughter.”

Leon's expression softens at your words, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the tension that had built up within him. The mention brings a slight smile to his face, memories of Ashley flooding his mind, a fondness evident in his eyes. "Ah, Ashley. Yeah, that was quite the adventure. Though what can you be other than a nice guy when your mission is the president’s daughter?"

“I know a couple people who’d treat her like a package to be delivered. You prioritized her wellbeing more than anything.”

“What else was I supposed to prioritize?”

“You know what I mean. Emotional wellbeing. I’ve read your initial report and her statement. You cared about her.” A smile tugs at your lips, he can tell you’re a bit more comfortable now. "Especially during what you’ve been through. It's impressive how you handle yourself in those situations."

He shrugs modestly, a hint of pride shining in his eyes. You respect him. "I guess you could say it comes with the job. But it's not all action and danger, you know. There's more to me than just being a government agent."

Your curiosity piques, and you tilt your head, prompting him to continue. "Tell me more. What's Leon Kennedy like outside of work and missions?"

It catches him off guard that you want to know more and take the first step. You could have just rejected him. His heart picks up, chest expanding in excitement, he’s glad for the opportunity to share a glimpse of his life beyond the chaos of his work — he’s normally not eager to share pieces of his life like this, but… He’d give it to you on a silver platter, whether it'd lure you in or not. That’s how Leon knows he wants this with you so bad. “I wanna lie to woo you but… Would it be too unattractive to tell I really don’t have a life outside of work? I’m still trying to find some balance in my life. The upper echelon guys are pretty ruthless and demanding. I guess it means I can say I’m into traveling?”

“Is this the cool guy way of saying you’re an introvert these days?”

The unexpectedness of it is what gets him to throw his head back to laugh, and he catches you staring, scrambling to rub his face to get rid of it and regain some composure. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Pretty much.”

“Well,” you gesture at him, there’s a vague pink hue dusting your cheeks. “What are you into, then?”

God, he can’t stop, “Other than you?” from escaping his dumb mouth. He shouldn’t have said it. It’s too corny. So uncalled for. Your mouth hangs open and he wishes he could rewind the tape to take it back and choose some other option. “Say… What about we continue this discussion after work? I know a good coffee place. Let me make it up to you for invading your lunch time. I’ll tell you all about me, what do you say?”

You look at the clock on the wall, he knows you didn’t get to have anything because he decided to turn up and serenade you with unwanted attention, it’s two birds with one stone for him if you decide to accept — he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t see a perfect moment to seize the chance.

“Coffee sounds perfect,” you nod, with no pressure from him, and it lifts a great weight off his shoulders. “Would it be okay if I eat something too?”

Why are you so adorable? You don’t know that you own the power to get Leon to have your superiors let you go for the day, but he can’t get too excited right now. “Say the word and it becomes a dinner date.”

It gets you flustered again, you don’t know where to put your hands, and he’s so happy about it. “It’s a weekday… That’d be a bit exhausting…”

“Okay. Coffee date it is.”

He’s noticing you like the cheeky confidence, and it makes sense, considering the intensity had you intimidated. “Thank you,” you say. “I’d like that.”

“Believe me,” Leon can’t stop the grin from overtaking his expression. “My pleasure. You’re honestly too good for me.”

There’s the sudden urge to kiss you when vulnerability and shyness lights up your whole face, but he’ll take it slow. He has to take it slow. For himself.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff

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maladaptiveobsession · 8 months ago

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yandere valentino x reader x angel dust

contains: reader w/unspecified genitals, gn reader, nsfw themes, noncon/dubcon, dehumanization, degradation, heavy abuse (brief mentions of physical violence, manipulation, sexual exploitation), dacryphilia, overstimulation

word count: 2,160

It’s not unusual for sinners to throw themselves at Valentino’s feet, but it is the first time the red skies of hell have thrown one directly onto him. The impact sends you both to the ground, collapsing in a startled heap.

He scrambles to throw you off, having every intention to rip you to scraps. Upon lifting your head, he suddenly has grander schemes in mind. His towering figure and lascivious grin send shivers down your spine.

“My, what lovely specimen do we have here? How kind of heaven to send a beauty like yourself directly to me.” His flirtations send blood rushing to your head, making your face grow warmer. You shyly break eye contact, swiveling your head to get a look around. Where is this place?

Valentino must notice your growing confusion and distress, interrupting your thoughts with a low chuckle.

“Welcome to hell, dollface.” Oh, you must be dead. You never thought you were perfect, but you never could’ve imagined you’d go to hell! Where did you go wrong? Suddenly thrust into hell with murderers, rapists, and monsters alike, you wondered if you could die twice.

“Don’t look so down, baby; you’re in luck! There’s no better demon you could’ve crashed into.” He goes on to introduce himself as a powerful overlord with a well-known and successful business.

“I’m feeling awfully generous right now. Why don’t you come work for me? I know just where to put you! You’ll fit right in! I’m sure my patrons will love you too.” He pauses to let you digest the information. “As my employee, you’d be provided housing. I could easily protect you from the creeps and losers on this side of hell. I’ll even forgive you for dirtying my coat! Sounds like a steal, right?”

He takes a long drag from a cigar that you're not sure where came from, then whips out a contract and pen.

“So, how about it, baby?”

Stranded in an unfamiliar place, you easily accept his kindness. As you take hold of the pen, something about his grin makes you uneasy.

If only you read the fine print. So began your life of torment.

What Valentino neglected to mention was that the “successful business” he ran was a porn studio. You spent hours doing photoshoots, films, and shows. Like Valentino suggested, you became his star attraction—the shy and delicate pornstar all of hell’s degenerates thirsted for. Yet they would never get a taste. Valentino didn’t share his personal toys.

Inexplicably, he couldn’t get enough of you. He wanted to own you the moment he saw your pretty face, drawn to the light in your eyes.

Even with your skin bruised by his fingers and your throat sore from careless treatment, you still desired his rough affection. You didn’t mind that he left you battered each night or his harsh comments when you couldn’t keep up with his demands.

You could even forgive him for cruelly allowing his customers to take advantage of you and fuck you back into submission.

“I said I could protect you; I never said I would. Perhaps you’ll think twice before disobeying in the future.”

You would do anything if it meant receiving his violent devotion.

Being the personal toy of an egomaniacal moth could never be easy, but at least you weren’t alone. You had befriended none other than Valentino’s former favored pornstar, Angel Dust. Despite your differences in character, your shared experiences created a bond neither of you could find anywhere else. Misery always finds company.

Angel felt conflicted upon meeting you. That bastard had finally found a new toy to replace him! His joy only lasted until he heard your voice, so soft and sweet.

Valentino would break you.

Angel dreamed of the day Valentino would grow bored of him and find a new toy to play with. Now that that dream was a reality, he couldn’t push down the guilt. Shouldn’t he feel happy?

There was nothing Angel could do to protect you, but he could give you advice on how to protect yourself.

“Just do what he says. The consequences aren’t worth going against his word.”

He hadn’t planned on getting so close to you; he had tried to scare you off with cruelties, but you never minded. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake you. He tried to keep his distance and went out of his way to avoid you. You must have taken the hint and stopped bothering him like he’d wanted.

He didn’t owe you anything, so why did your absence make him feel worse? Why did he feel like something was missing?

Angel found his answers not long after.

He'd followed the muffled sound of choked sobs to your studio, pausing outside the cracked door. Against his better judgment, he peeked inside.

He’s met with the sight of you huddled in your vanity seat, knees raised to your chest, and your face buried in your arms.

“Doll?”

You raise your head at the sound of Angel’s voice, rushing to wipe away tears. You greet him with the best smile you can manage.

How miserable you must look to him, with smudged mascara and puffy eyes.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so often, Angie.” With how hoarse your voice is, he suspects you’ve been crying for a while. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just felt so alone, you know?”

He does. He knows better than anyone.

It suddenly occurs to him how much of an asshole he’s been. You didn’t deserve the shit he’s been giving you.

He'd put up walls ever since he signed away his freedom; he couldn’t trust anybody. He thought nobody could understand what kind of shit he’s been through, but then you came along. You do understand because you’re going through it.

You’re all each other has.

“Don’t cry for the bastard. He doesn’t deserve your tears.” You look like you’re about to apologize again, but he continues. “Listen, I’m sorry for being such a douchebag lately. You didn’t do nothing wrong. We’ve only got each other in this shithole.”

You smile brightly, unsure what caused the sudden change in attitude, but happy nonetheless. “Right, together, we’re not alone.”

So began your unlikely friendship.

Unfortunately, Valentino wasn’t nearly as enthused. His obsession grew to new heights when you befriended Angel Dust. This manifested itself in the form of longer studio hours and even rougher sex.

Seeing you get along on set made his blood boil. The final straw was the stupid grin you sent Angel’s way. How dare you flirt with that slut! How dare he grin back!

You both clearly needed to be reminded of your status. Since you liked each other so much, he would be happy to give his blessings. Why, he’d personally see to your union.

Later that evening, you found yourself back on set, blindfolded and gagged. The cold nipped at your bare skin. Valentino kept the studios cold to keep your nipples perked. The handcuffs keeping your hands pinned to the bed post provided little comfort.

The sound of the film crew setting up around you sent heat to your sex. You couldn’t swallow the feeling of disgust residing in your throat; how could you enjoy this? Even amongst the buzz of conversations, you could easily pick out the click of Valentino’s healed boots. You wait for the familiar call to begin filming, yet you do not find it.

It’s only when a pair of hands, strangely familiar, find their way to your chest that you realize the set began. The whole situation strikes you as strange, but what could you do anyhow? Nothing would change the outcome. In the end, all you’d receive for your curiosity would be a nasty bruise.

So you brush off your worries and focus on the sensation of soft hands groping at your chest, teasing your nipples. You can’t help but lean into their gentle touches; the familiarity comforting.

The way they glide across your skin—as if searching—you wonder if they’re blindfolded too. Shivers run across your spine as they spread your legs, the cool air kissing your core. The bed shifts as your film partner settles between your thighs, their hands never leaving you.

Fingers prod at your entrance, sinking in easily. Your head spins at the sudden intrusion. As they finger and stretch your hole, you struggle to maintain composure. Each motion was intentional and practiced. You could feel the slick gather below you in a thick puddle. Somehow, they knew how to work you just right.

Droplets of pre-cum smeared against your skin as their cock brushed up against your thigh.

Unable to wait any longer, you tried lifting your hips away from their fingers. You wanted more; you wanted to be filled.

Your desire clouded any creeping shame or embarrassment. You never wanted this; why shouldn’t you enjoy the pleasure being given?

The hand lingering on your hip stills you with surprising strength; another set of hands you didn’t know they had pushes your thighs up to your chest. Desire clouds your thoughts, never once questioning the owner of said hands.

They guide their cock to your entrance, driving it in without warning—the sudden stretch takes your breath away. Though easier to accommodate than Valentino’s, you still find yourself pushed past your limits.

Little time is given to adjust; their pace is rough but controlled. Waves of pleasure burn through you.

Your moans and pleas are swallowed up by the gag. Tears of pleasure and pain gather in your eyes, darkening the fabric of your blindfold. It hurts so good; the intensity building in your core threatens to snap. A particularly rough thrust sends powerful shockwaves throughout your body.

They shudder against you, their pace stuttering for only a brief moment. They were too busy changing their own bliss. You writhe against your binds as the heat within tightens once more, all too soon. Your pleas for clemency are muffled.

Valentino watches with great interest, languidly stroking his own length as you're brought back to the edge of pleasure. You were so sensitive and expressive.

His favorite slut being forced to use his personal toy wasn’t a sight he thought he’d enjoy. He’d initially been reluctant, only convinced by the masses demanding your collaboration.

Now he couldn’t wait for the reveal—to see the despair of fucking your only friend. Commanding his toys to fuck like dolls was fun; maybe he’d do it again some time.

He watched closely as Angel’s hips stuttered, pace becoming erratic, and fingers pressing deep into your thighs. The heat of his climax sends you over the edge. With your ears ringing and your heart pounding, you feel dizzy. Darkness swallows up your vision.

Valentino makes note of your limpness, suddenly struck by an idea. He strides over to Angel, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you flirting with my toy?” He didn’t miss the way Angel tenses. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Wasting no time, he wrenched the blindfold off.

Angel’s reaction is more than he’d hoped for. Horror and disgust flash in his eyes as he scrambles to pull out of you. He tumbled off the bed in his urgency and crumpled at Val’s feet in despair.

Angel can feel his stomach in his throat, panis rising.

“Aw, did you not like my gift?” Valentino mocks him, relishing in the pitiful display. “Well, too bad. Pick yourself up and get ready to do it again.”

For a moment, Angel is unresponsive. He has to do that all over again? He has to violate you? He can’t do that to you; it would break you.

Buzzing under the thick layer of disgust creeps darker desires: to touch and tease your skin, to sink into your warmth. To do it all over again.

He doesn't notice the way his dick responds, but Valentino certainly does. How unexpected!

“Holy shit, are you hard again? Does the thought of raping your friend turn you on that much? I wonder what your friend will think?” He can taste your fear and anguish already. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

Angel's fear is palpable and thick. He doesn’t want to lose you. When you open your eyes, the little sanctuary you've built together will never be the same.

You should feel something, but you can only feel empty as your only friend splits you open against both of your wills. Averting his eyes, he rocks into you. Valentino’s voice hardly registers at all.

“Don’t act so shy, Angelcakes. Go on, fuck them with your eyes like you usually do. If I don’t see some eye contact, there will be consequences for your dearest friend.”

With your eyes connected, you can’t pretend anymore. This is happening. This is real.

You only have each other, but together you created a nightmare you can’t escape. At least you’re not alone—closer than you’ve ever been.

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astarion-approves · 1 year ago

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Ahh okay so I've never actually requested anything before ever so this should be fun. You know the scene where Tav hugs Astarion and it lasts for like .2 seconds before they pull away? I was wondering if you could write something where either the hug lasts longer bc Tav just doesn't want to let go or where Tav just keeps hugging Astarion for the smallest little things. I just need to hug him more that hug was not enough. Also your writing is so freakin good and cute and I love them all sm <333

Astarion x GN! Tav - Forever

Tags: Hugging, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Blood Drinking, Established Relationship, Drabble, Soft Astarion, Short & Sweet, Some Spoilers, Act One spoilers, gender neutral reader, 400+ words (very short.)

Read below or on AO3

-----------------

“Mh. You’re so warm…” Astarion whispers into your ear, his arms wrapping around you tighter, your head resting against his shoulder as he holds you. “I can never get enough of this… Of you.”

You sighed softly, choosing not to reply and simply allowing yourself to live in this moment with him. A hug, one that you never wanted to end.

Weeks ago, you hugged Astarion for the very first time. The vampire was stiff then, unsure of how to react and what to do with his hands… But he returned the hug, allowing himself to melt into your arms and welcome the embrace.

Now, it’s all he asks for.

He strokes his hand up and down your back, massaging you through your shirt with lazy little squeezes. His eyes are closed as he inhales your scent, breathing deeply, and allowing himself to indulge in everything that’s you.

Little kisses across your neck and down your throat, sighs of nothing but content as he gives in to your scent and he sucks gently at your skin.

You gasp as his sharp teeth nick you, his fangs nudging across your skin, just for a quick taste. His tongue running over the scratch, lapping up the small pooling of blood, his hands now digging into your back as he holds you tighter still.

Your head rolls to the side, away from him, granting him permission to keep going. Astarion hums and leaves a light kiss against your skin, thanking you without words before he bites down.

In the night, Astarion would feed from you, his bite careful not to wake you, and not to take any more than he needed. It was a favor, a gift, one that you had no problem giving.

But now— with his arms around you and his teeth buried into your skin…

This was something else.

He was treating you like the most precious of glass, afraid that you would break, and that he would be the one to break you. Releasing his bite, he continued to suck, hardly taking any blood at all, only enjoying the intimacy that you willingly shared with him.

“Astarion?” You whispered, your hands moving from his shoulders to sink into his hair, his hair soft like velvet.

He pulled back, just for a moment, your blood decorating his lips in the prettiest display of your love for him. “Yes, my sweet?”

“I love you.”

Astarion smiled, his eyes closing. He took a deep breath before opening them again, those red eyes of his filled with all of the love and passion that he could hardly contain any longer.

“And I you, Tav. Forever.”

Then he tucked head back into the crook of your neck, holding you still, well into the night.

——-

Gale and Shadowheart in the background—

Gale: That’s not even sexual, is it? He’s just openly feeding from them, right there… in front of all of us.

Shadowheart: I think it’s sweet.

Gale: Ah yes, nothing more romantic than drinking the blood of your loved one… Where everyone can see it.

Shadowheart: You eat magical items because of your history with your past lover, Gale.

Glae:….

Gale: Fair enough.

---------

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littlemissmiller · 7 months ago

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Bad Press (part 2)

Pairing: dark!toxic!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, slight sejanus x fem!reader

Summary: (au) after avoiding getting caught cheating in the games, a hopeful presidential candidate snow is fed up with your slanderous reporting, so he decides put you in your place

Warning: 21+ (drinking), smut, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, p in v, use of degeneration (whore, slut) blackmail, threats, dom!snow, sub!reader, slight jealousy, slight misogyny, obsession, power imbalance, porn with a plot

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: hello! happy sunday! i’m so excited and nervous for you guys to read part two but here it is! i had so much fun writing this and have some fun ideas for future coyro fics soooo stay tuned! also stay tuned for future projects with other fandoms that I’m excited to share ♡ enjoy :) also if you missed it check out part 1

You enter the golden elevator in the lobby of his building and ride it with him to the top floor. The entire time, his hand stays close to your waist, ghosting over the small of your back. It dings after several moments.

“After you my dear.” Snow smiles, pushing you forward slightly. You admire the luxury of his home. The ceilings are tall and intimidating. It makes you feel small and the wide windows surrounding the main living room make you feel vulnerable. You walk over to the center of his living room, next to his two black leather couches, and he walks past you to the mini bar, just off to the side of the living room. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, plopping a square ice cube in.

“I said I’m not drinking” you remind him “What happened to tea?” You ask

“I know. I spoke for yourself not me.”

You huff, stand up and cross your arms.

“Well I’m not going to look like a fool and not drink when you do.”

“Be my guest.” He smirks and you roll your eyes

“Ok you got me here. What do you want to clear the record on?” You ask, taking a glass of whiskey from him.

“I just think if you got to know me then you’d be less bias in your reporting.”

“Less bias…” you mutter, chuckling under your breath, taking a sip of whiskey. It burns your throat and you try to keep your face neutral, but truth be told you didn’t drink alcohol with such a strong taste. He walks up to you, his tall frame backing you into the couch slightly until, your knees hit the back and you unexpectedly sit down. He continues to stand over you for a moment, then he smirks and sits on the couch opposite of you. He spreads his legs, resting his elbow on one with his drink in hand. He leans forward slightly, studying you. He cocks his head to the side, a small smile creeping on the side of his lips.

You tentatively sip your drink, then set it down on the table. You reach inside your bag for a pen and notepad.

“So, you were hoping for an interview.” He smirks

“Not necessarily with you. I always stay prepared.”

“That’s good. I like a girl who is ready like that. Dedicated.”

Your stomach swarms with butterflies, a slow heat creeps up your body that seems to becoming from in between your thighs. You try to contain it, slowly closing your legs together.

“So…” you roll your eyes “What would you like the people of Panem to know about you?”

Coriolanus smiles and takes a beat before answering.

“What a generic question”

“You said you wanted this interview Snow.” You glare at him

“I do, but I know you’re a better journalist than that.”

You scoff and roll your eyes

“Fine. How does it make you feel to know that the Snow legacy will be effectively over after this election cycle?”

He chuckles at you, making you feel small and uncomfortable.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to be tough. Easier to do when it’s behind newsprint hmm.”

“I-I mean every word I write a-a-and you know y-you’re not doing yourself any favors acting like this either.” You say, the words coming out less confident then you would have liked

“You know what…that’s fair. I’ll play nice for you…” he stands up, striding toward you. Coriolanus stands in front of you, towering over you. He bends down, placing one hand on your knee and the other pinches your chin.

“W-what are you doing Snow?”

“What do you mean? You want me to be nice. Maybe show you a side of me that Panem doesn’t know about. Right?” He states, placing a delicate kiss to your cheek.

You gasp. He trails his hand across your cheek, cupping your jaw and tangling his fingers through your hair. His icy blue eyes peer into your soul as he gives you a wicked grin. He leans in to begin to kiss and nibble at your ear and jawline. You can’t help but to relax slightly, tilting your head back and closing your eyes.

“I can be sweet you know. Romantic even. People think a lot of things about me and I tailor the conversations to be that way.”

You temper your breathing, trying not to seem so scared, but the feeling in between your thighs seems to be naturally overtaking you.

“And you?” He snickers “You have your own little agenda don’t you girl.” He kisses your neck, wrapping his hand gently at the base of your jaw.

“I thought you said there would be no games.”

“Yeah and you told me the same thing at the gala, yet here we both are. We both know that’s been a lie anyways. I think we should promise not to lie to each other anymore. What do you say?” He growls

“Fine.” you huff

“Good girl…” he presses one last kiss delicately on the corner on your lips, squeezing your cheeks. You instinctively turn to meet his mouth, but he pulls back, forcing your face to stare directly at his own. He clicks his tongue at you.

“No no sweetheart. Not yet. But you know what… you just confirmed something for me.”

“No…” you breathe“w-what are you talking about.”

“Mmm…Maybe I should ask you if there’s anything the people of Panem should know about you?”

You scoff nervously, trying to make it seem like you’re laughing at him, hiding the mountain of fear you feel.

“You’re not the one giving an interview here. I am! Wh-what are you even talking about Snow!” Your eyes shoot open and his blue ones stare back at you.

“Hmm seems like Sejanus didn’t please you well enough then. You’re still so worked up aren’t you. He’s not really man enough is he?”

You freeze. Eyes widening and mouth going slightly agape and all Coriolanus can do is smirk at your dumb, pretty, pathetic, little face.

“Yeah.” He scoffs “Sejanus ran his mouth. C’mon princess you know how guys like to brag right? Could you imagine if my tongue slipped like that.” He whispers, emphasizing the syllables in slipped.

“If the papers knew you slept with him, then wrote that article, and bashed me in the same publication, seemingly to make him look better in comparison….” He continues “you could loose your job…” his hands squeezes your neck a little tighter

“You wouldn’t.” You spat

“Oh the tabloids would eat it up. Tell me what headline would you make for such a scandal hmm? Go on tell me clever girl. I know you like to write flashy attention getters.” Coriolanus whispers, growling the word attention deep into your ear.

“Stop. Please. I-I was just using him” you admit

“Oh yeah? Tell me more.”

“Just using him…t-to get to you..” you breathe

“Ah there you go. That’s what I thought. Now tell me…” he hisses “why do you want my attention so badly?

You whimper and sink into the couch slightly as his hot breath fans your face, prying for a response. His clenched hand under your jaw pulls you back closer to him.

“Does someone have a little crush on their future president? Hmm? Hoping they would be the one to be made First Lady? What were you hoping for?

“I was hoping maybe he would introduce you to me. Because I-I…” You whimper again

“Say it sweetheart. Say you want me.”

“A-are you going t-to tell my boss what happened between me and Sejanus? Leak it to the press?”

“I won’t. But at a cost? No more bad articles. No more bad press.”

You contemplate his offer for a second, hesitant to say yes, but you agree.

“Now say it.” He demands

“I want you”

He finally kisses you. His soft lips land harshly against your own. All the anger that he harbored towards you comes through passionately and forcefully with his kiss. He doesn’t let up, practically consuming you with his mouth. Then all too soon, he pulls away. You whine at the loss of him.

“So predictable.” He smirks. Coriolanus throws a devilish smile your way, stands up, and begins to unbuckle his belt.

“You want my attention? Show me how much you want me then.”

Fuck this is happening. Your plan works better than expected. Frankly, Coriolanus didn’t care if you had trapped him, he now had you trapped, because Snow always lands on top. He begins to trace the pad of his thumb across your lips, causing you to quiver. You look up at him, fear blazing in your eyes. He simply nods, as you paw at his trousers, sliding them down. You watch intensely as his bulge slowly appears from behind his pants. You gasp, looking up at him for what he wants you to do next.

“Go on. Make me feel good.“

You do as you’re told, placing gentle pecks against his boxers. You clutch onto his hips as he tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing you further into his crotch. He tilts his head back, groaning in pleasure. You pull his boxers down, immediately going in to trail kisses up his shaft. You take his member in your hand, stroking it slowly. His blue eyes, now clouded with lust, looks down at you, mouth agape slightly. Coriolanus knows he holds all the power in the moment, but can’t help but whimper slightly as your soft, wet lips wrap around the tip of his cock. You tease him, sucking on just the tip, but Coriolanus finds the back of your head, pushing you forward slowly. You gag slightly, which makes Coriolanus sigh in amusement. He starts to rock his hips, holding the back of your head, watching you take him so perfectly in your mouth. He moves his hand cups underneath your face, thumb stroking your cheek, admiring how pretty your eyes look all big, round, and totally focused on him. He pulls out, causing you to gasp. He lets out a small, sinister chuckle.

“Good girl. God you’re good at that.”

You lean forward to put him back in your mouth but he stops, shaking his head, holding your chin in between his fingers.

“So eager. But I know you want more.” He says, stuffing his cock back into his boxers and pants. He holds a hand out to you and you take it. He pulls you up, guiding you to his bedroom upstairs.

Once there, he closes the door, locking it. He gestures for you to sit on his bed and you do. He walks towards you, unbuttoning his cuffs. You take a moment to sink in his well manicured room. His bedsheets, a pure white, with black and gold accent trims lay flat on the mattress in an elaborate black wooden bed frame. You lay back in anticipation, taking in the soft, plush sheets that were about to be an absolute mess. As he approaches, Coriolanus finishes unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, tossing it off. Even though he’s still relatively thin, his body is toned, and you suddenly can’t stop looking at him. He stays silent as he towers over you slowly. You raise your hands up to his bare chest, admiring him, taking note of his small, individual, freckles and the happy trail leading into his pants. You catch yourself panting and feel the heat in between your legs becoming noticeable. You need to be touched.

He pulls the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him. He admires them, pinching and groping them, causing you to mewl. Next, he carefully bends down sneaking his hands down to your thighs, and pushing the fabric up to your hips. Coriolanus pushes you on your back, then hooks his thumbs around the waistline of your panties and slides them down, all the while kissing your pelvis, then your hip and down your thighs. You buck your hips up in response, wanting more. Coriolanus coos at you when you’re finally exposed to him, slowly lowering himself to his knees.

“Just what I thought. So needy for me.” He smirks, pressing his fingers against your core. He leans forward, slowly rubbing your clit, enchanting you.

“Tell me…did Sejanus make you this wet? This sensitive? I’ve barely touched you and you’re practically drenched.” He asks.

All you can do is simply shake your head, letting out a breathy moan in an attempt to speak. He can’t help but continue smirking at you, satisfied with the power he holds over you. However, he’s unsatisfied with your lack of response. Coriolanus slaps your pussy.

“I asked you a question…”

“No…he didn’t”

“Good.”

With that, he dives in, mouthing at your core. Coriolanus starts soft, his lips ghosting over your clit. He looks up at you, grinning against you as your needy eyes stare back into his. His mouth feel so wet and warm, you can’t help but rake your fingers through his blonde locks. You remember when he still had his curls and envy not being able to comb your hands through them, but his new, sleek look, gave him an edge that made him look dangerously handsome. Regardless you still think he looks gorgeous in between your thighs. He laps you up, relishing in how good you taste. You toss your head back, losing yourself in the enjoyment and feeling of his tongue. Coriolanus pats the side of your thigh, pulling away momentarily.

“Look at me, darling. Focus up.”

You nod and he raises an eyebrow, looking for a verbal reply.

“Yes, sorry” you agree, doing your best to keep your head up.

“You answer me when I ask you a question got it. Don’t forget manners now.” He mocks

He dives back in, this time wasting no time tasting you. His mouth envelopes your clit, eyes occasionally glancing at you to make sure you’re still watching him and you’re enjoying the pleasure he is giving you. You’re moans and whines sound slightly pathetic to your own ears, but Coriolanus simply drinks it all in, marveling in how you’re beginning to come undone. He gives your clit several deliberate licks, before drawing it in between his lips and sucking hard. You cry out at his actions, and he moans against you as you do. You buck your hips, and he clutches the hem of your dress to keep you down, pressing your core further into his face. He adds a finger, then a second. You clench down around him, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. Just as you’re about to finish he pulls back. You whine at the loss, squeezing your thighs together to make up for it.

He starts to undo his pants again, hastily pulling them down, whipping out his cock. He strokes it lazily, mouth agape as he admires your soaking pussy, thanks to him. He pulls the rest of your dress down, leaving you bare in front of him. Your breathing becomes laborious, anticipation creeping up your body as you lay eyes on his beautiful cock again. Your eyes are locked on it and Coriolanus takes notice at your gaze, smirking to himself again over the way he is able to mesmerize you.

“Oh I wish you could see your face. You’re so desperate.” He tuts, pulling his pants all the way down and stepping out of them.

He pulls you closer to him, your butt hanging off the bed slightly. After a few more strokes, he lines himself up at your entrance, pushing in without giving you a chance to fully prepare for his size. He slides in, letting out a ragged, breathy, moan as he does. Coriolanus takes a moment to fully sink into you, and when he does he hits your cervix with a hard, deep thrust. He pulls back and thrusts back a few more deliberate times then finds a good pace. He leans down eventually, capturing your lips. You can still taste yourself on his lips. You moan. Your legs wrap around his waist and nails scratch his back, which only encourages him. He ruts into you deeper and harder, gritting his teeth and grunting as he does. Coriolanus pulls away to look at you, panting. He cups your jaw, forcing you to focus on him, flashing a devilish smile.

“Is this the attention you wanted? Fucking Sej to get to me. Bet you liked being a little whore for him too.”

“H-h-he wasn’t as good as you.”

“I know that darling. That’s not what I want to hear you say though.”

“I-I like being a whore for you..” you breathe, your head starting to feel hazy.

“Mhmm. Good girl.” He whispers, drilling into you

The sounds of skin on skin and your collective moans fill the room. You warn Coriolanus to be quiet, fearful his family will return home from the dinner to hear lewd sounds coming from his bedroom. He only shakes his head at you, ignoring your pleas.

“This is my house princess. They know better than to investigate noises that have nothing to do with them. Especially coming from my room….” He breathes, his hot breath fanning your face. “So keep making those pretty little noises for me slut”

He rails you now, not holding back and expecting the same from you. All you can do is let him fuck you, your soft walls clamping down on him like a vice. He’s intoxicating, all consuming of your thoughts and emotions in this moment. You kiss his shoulder and neck as he rocks above you, clutching onto him more and more. He presses his fingers against your clit, rubbing small, tight circles.

“Mmm fuck Snow.”

“Call me Coryo” He hisses

“You feel so good Coryo. Mmm please don’t stop.”

“Oh I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”

He sits up, tossing your legs over his shoulder. Coriolanus starts to reign in his actions, slowing down his hips, staring down at your fucked out form. He admires you, almost looking sweet, but behind his facade, he was basking in how easily you seemed to have succumbed to his pleasure. And you can’t help yourself. Fucking Sejanus Plinth was nothing in comparison to the man who was currently inside you. Sejanus was gentle. Focused on your own pleasure and relishing in being able to sleep with a girl as gorgeous as you. He almost was too overwhelmed by your beauty to keep himself from finishing early, but Coriolanus was completely different. His dominant aura gave you a feeling that you haven’t felt before. The way he takes control, it excites you. His fingers return back to your clit, and you grind against them.

“There you go. Good girl. You like when I play with you like that?”

“Yes, yes yes…” you chant, nodding

“Such a pretty little whore for me aren’t you. Such an attention seeker. Look at you. Getting all the attention you want now.”

He reaches down, grabbing at your hips, he pulls you closer to him. He lifts your hips up off the mattress and starts to angrily thrust into you now, chasing more of his own pleasure. Still, he was unsatisfied and was feeling a bit greedy. Coriolanus pulls out, causing you to whine. His fingers rubbing your pussy again, slowly silencing you.

“Can’t believe you fucked my best friend just to get my attention. Is that what you like to do? Fuck to get what you want? Well two can play at that game” he pants. “And as you know princess I’m good at winning games.” He grunts

He ruts into you harsher, pushing the air out of your lungs.

“Wanna turn over and show me your pretty ass?”

“Fuck yes” you whisper.

He leans down to kiss you, pulling you up. You and him stay like this for a moment. His tongue swirling with your own, mouth consuming yours. Then he pulls back, and you turn over. You rest on your hands and knees, arching your back, presenting your ass to him just as he asked. He moans, splaying his hands across your cheeks. Coriolanus lets out a small chuckle, before landing a nice firm slap with both hands. You wince, flinching slightly. He rubs in between your legs, enjoying the way you shake for him. He inserts himself back into you, his hand moving to reach around back in between your legs. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass makes you go feral, and you lower yourself down onto the mattress more. You keep your back arched, and he moans loudly at the feeling of the new angle.

“Fuck that’s it darling. Go ahead and bounce on me. There just like that.”

Coriolanus clutches your hips, bouncing you back onto his cock. You move with him, matching his pace and speed. He feels even deeper in you like this, and with the way he continues to play with your clit, you know you’re close to coming undone. Coriolanus is close too. He gives your ass another slap, then another, and a few more on the other cheek.

“Oooh so good. You take me so well. Did Sejanus fuck you like this?”

“No no no no…” you cry.

“Did he make you come like I’m about to?”

“No”

He ruts into you at an unbearable pace. His grunts becoming more and more animalistic. You can barely hold yourself up and he notices the way your legs wobble. Coriolanus pulls you up against his chest. It only takes a few more thrusts to make you fall apart on his cock. You spasm around him, jerking around. You gasp as you do, holding onto him, the feeling of pleasure so overwhelming.

“Goood girl. That’s it…cum all over my cock. Fuckkk such a little slut.”

“Fuck…oh fuck Coyro..I-I-I…” you babble

He merely laughs at you, thinking how good you feel on him fucked out. His lips part, placing a few sloppy kisses to your cheek.

“Felt good didn’t it?” He asks

“Yes…” you murmur nodding vigorously

“Good.” He pulls out, turning you over and pushing you softly back onto your back. You barely process it as he slips back into you.

“Gotta finish too. Fuck you’re still clenching me darling. You like being fucked after you come?”

“Yes. Fuck are you going to come in me?”

“No…I’ll finish on your tits.”

Not too long after he declares his intentions, he pulls out. He finishes on your breast and stomach, the ropes of cum spread out on your body. When he finally finishes, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours. Your breathing becomes in sync.

“No more bad press. Got it?” He asks, tilting your chin to meet his eyes

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Good. I’ll get you a towel. Clean you up.”

He stands up, walking out of the room feeling satisfied with himself. You reflect on the experience, feeling satisfied in your own right. He may have changed your mind on your next article, but you got him to pay attention to you, which makes you feel somewhat victorious over the next president of Panem.

꧁❧✽☙꧂

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #toxic!coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #smut #tbosas #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #sejanus plinth #tbosas fanfiction

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baronessvonglitter · 1 month ago

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Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 19 🍒

"Hungry Heart"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 6,022

Summary: Going to Jackson for a wedding seems like just a friend doing a favor for a friend, but old acquaintances and new attitudes don't always make for a great combination.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place June - December 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of divorce, language, No Smut, mention of infidelity, post-divorce strife, Ellie is kind of a delinquent (will be discussed in next chapter), brief glimpse of lumberjack!Joel, forced proximity, mutual pining (mostly on Joel's side), Joel tries to be an authority figure and Ellie ain't having it

Author's Note: thank you to everyone who's stuck around to read this and been very patient with me! my birthday was last week so there was a lot going on, otherwise I would have had this out earlier. So.. we've got these two together again, but the reunion isn't exactly a happy one..

Series Masterlist

June 2023 San Francisco, CA

It's not until you're seated in a booth at the trendy new sushi bar downtown that you begin to doubt your agreement to meet Sarah while she's in town for a work conference. You'd said yes initially, then waffled about it in the coming weeks, and now you're drinking sake to fortify yourself. Your therapist told you it's a bad idea to mix alcohol with reacquaintances, but you're already refilling the ochoko when you look up for a moment and spy Sarah approaching you through the crowded restaurant.

You've never thought about what she might look like. A part of you imagined that you'd be sitting down to dinner with the same kid from twenty years ago. But Sarah has grown up, in her thirties, a successful attorney. And, from what you gathered by spying on Joel's Facebook account years ago, she's also a mother.

"Thank you for meeting me," she says, embracing you the way women always embrace each other, something you never got used to because of you lack of female friends. She smells like expensive perfume, the kind you spray on yourself at Sephora just for fun, and is dressed in a white maxi dress with blue floral print. She looks amazing, and you silently berate yourself for wearing black distressed jeans, a Rolling Stones tee and your lucky red Converse.

"You're all grown up," you remark, a hint of sadness in your tone.

"You look beautiful," she says in return. "You don't even look like twenty years have passed."

Little does she know you spent forty dollars on a concealer to hide your undereye circles, and were talked into spending another twenty on something called a lip oil that makes your lips sticky and tastes like cheap pineapple, which you wiped away on the restaurant napkin as soon as you sat down.

Settling down to small talk, you neglect to look at your menus, annoying the waitress who stops by to take your order three times and ultimately just comes by to refill your drinks.

Sarah lives out east in Boulder, Colorado, practicing law alongside her fiance Theo. They have a son together, ten year old Finn.

"Theo proposed when I got pregnant," Sarah says. "But I wanted us to build a foundation first, construct our little family. And when the time was right, I proposed to him."

She shows off pictures of Finn, sharing the funny and cute anecdotes that parents do, and when she asks about Ellie you do the same: Ellie in the hospital, just hours old, wearing a tiny knitted pink and blue hat as she glowered at the camera; Ellie at four, playing T-ball, one of just two girls on an all-boys team; Ellie at ten winning the school spelling bee.

Being an Army wife gave you the opportunity to see the world, experience things you otherwise wouldn't. Japan, Germany, Italy.. you were happy that Ellie got to experience them too.

But even that couldn't save your marriage to Justin.

There were infidelities on both sides, and when you found out about his, it was almost a relief to discover he was not Nice Justin, just a man who had affairs. In the midst of your own liaisons, you felt vindicated, though the fun wore off easier than it had in your youth.

Filing for divorce was only difficult considering Ellie. Justin didn't fight it, handing over full custody. It was the only part of the process that broke your heart. Now you were just repeating a history of broken families. Once the divorce was finalized it was like throwing up after being nauseous for so long, just good to get it out of your system.

("I kept my married name, just to piss off the new wife," you tell Sarah, who snickers in response. "That's understandable.")

Settling in San Francisco where you like the neighborhood and the schools, life seems easier.

"Ninth grade history," you answer when Sarah asks what you teach. "I introduce Romeo & Juliet to kids who are the same age as those characters."

And now, with the niceties out of the way, there's nothing left to talk about but the past.

You've been dreading it.

"I never apologized for what I did," she says.

You nod, inviting her to continue.

"You probably know this by now, but I was the one who called your mom."

Of course you knew it all along, but hearing it is a different thing.

She got her number from your phone when you weren't around. And, unable to get the picture of you and her dad out of her mind, she dialed it one day and explained to your mom what she saw.

"Why?" you ask.

She averts her eyes a brief moment. "Deep down I always knew there was something going on with you and my dad.. the day of my party when I walked in on you, it was a rude awakening. It's one thing to know something is going on, and another thing to witness it. And later, when you left, I realized I'd taken it too far."

Sarah goes quiet and so do you, despite the chatter in the busy restaurant.

You ask, "Did Joel ever find out it was you?"

She nods. "I told him later.. after he started seeing that awful girl you were friends with."

That part of your life, the bubble of jealousy and despair in which you made your home, seems so long ago. "Hailey," you remind her.

"Yeah.. she didn't last very long. Dad broke things off when he caught her stealing from him.. and when that happened I realized he was just better off with you. But.. by then it was too late."

By then you were already apart. The damage had been done.

"Was he angry at you for what you did?"

Sarah shrugs. "It was a silent kind of angry. You know how he is. We avoided each other for weeks until it became impossible. And by then.. you were gone."

You take a moment to reflect on your memories of Joel. "How is he?"

She smiles, as if she knew or even hoped you'd ask about him. "He's good. He's in Jackson now. Wyoming. Tommy's there with his new wife.."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. "And, uh.. your stepmom?"

She looks blank for a moment. "You mean Tess? No, they divorced a few years ago. She was nice, it just didn't work out."

You don't know whether to feel sorrow or relief at this fact, but for once you decide to be petty and let the relief take over, hoping he went through a fraction of the pain you endured.

Sarah toys with her salmon roll. "I'm sorry," she says, nodding to herself as if giving herself strength to do it. She looks you in the eye and you catch a glimpse of the girl she used to be. "I'm sorry. For starting everything."

So many times you've imagined what it would be like if you hadn't been found out by anyone else. Would you still have stayed in Austin? Would you and Joel have had more time together?

"It's in the past, right?" You manage a smile, happy that this is out in the open. A part of you feels like a weight is lifted. Things may not have happened the way you wanted, but now you can reconcile the things you can't control anymore.

"This is probably the wrong time to say this," Sarah continues, "but I'd like to invite you and Ellie to my wedding this December, in Jackson. You won't have to worry about airfare or hotels. Theo and I will cover your ticket and.. well, everyone's staying at my dad's. He has a huge house in town, enough for close family. I'd really love it if you would come."

"Justin, you're really fucking me over, do you know that?" you try to speak as quietly as you can into the phone while laying out outfits for the Jackson trip. "Ellie's going to be brokenhearted. You told her you'd have her the entire two weeks."

On the other line Justin sighs, the new, younger Mrs. Williams can be heard in the background. "I promised Svetlana first. We really need this time together," he whispers as well, likely not trying to instigate another argument with his wife.

You have some choice words for Svetlana, but are interrupted when Ellie quietly walks into the room, well aware that the discussion is about her. "I'll call you back."

"Let me guess.." Ellie sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going with Dad for Christmas.."

There's no point in lying to her. She's a sharp kid. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, kiddo. He and your stepmother are taking an extended honeymoon in Malta," you tell her gently.

"You mean Slutlana?"

"What? Ellie, that's rude. Don't say that." You pause. "Don't say that to her face, at least."

She's quiet, and at times like this you regret that she's essentially living the life you lived at fourteen, always wondering when Dad would come back, if he even wanted to spend time with his own child.

"So.. I'm going with you?"

You nod. "Thank god your probation is over. It'd be nice if you paid Marlene a visit, or at least called her," I said, speaking of the parole officer assigned to Ellie after a particular incident. "We should send her some Tiff's Treats or something, she deserves a gift after putting up with your delinquent self." You playfully toss a tee shirt at her.

"Can I say bye to Riley?" she asks, hope evident in her eyes.

"No," you're adamant on this one thing, as lax as you were before the trespassing situation.

"Mom, my probation's over. I'm not gonna get in trouble just for talking to her."

"I don't care. I'm not going by the judge's rules, I'm going by mine." You pause. "You'll just have to come with me to Wyoming."

Sarah had gone to the trouble of sending a beautifully embossed wedding invitation, done in traditional cream and gold, with photos of the two of them as children, as teens, and one gorgeously done couples photo. Theo's cute, and Sarah seems happy with him.

"Boring," Ellie says in response to the wedding festivities. "Why would anyone want to get married?"

You decide not to give her a response. At her age you didn't understand the fuss about weddings either.

Forgoing Sarah's offer of paying for your flight, you rent a Chevrolet Suburban for the drive over.

"You do realize we'll be driving for over fourteen hours, right?" Ellie says, helping you put the suitcases and bags in the roomy luggage hold.

"Yep. I checked it out on Google Maps."

"What happens if you get tired?"

"We'll drive during the day and find a rest stop or a motel at night," you shrug.

"You know.. I could take over the drive sometimes," she offers.

"Okay, kiddo. Why not?"

She brightens. "Really?"

"Absolutely fucking not." With a smile you open the passenger door and she hops in, grumbling,

Only so much music can suffice a long ride, and somewhere outside of Reno, Ellie busts out a dog-eared copy of a book Justin had given her as a gag won the spelling bee.

"Oh no, Ellie, for god's sake, not the puns," you whine dramatically.

"Yes, the puns," she grins. "How else am I supposed to spend my time on this boring-ass road trip?"

"Brace yourself. We've only been on the road less than four hours."

She groans, slumping forward in her seat, revived shortly when she decides to recite every single pun in that damn book, and when you give her that Mom look, she simply grins and tells you, "That's what you get for turning down a plane ticket."

Three days later you arrive. Jackson Hole is picturesque, especially in winter, as it it was just made to be the snowy backdrop on a postcard or a highlight on Instagram.

You turn down the main thoroughfare of the town, a light dusting of snow already falling from the heavens as you peer out the window, frowning in concentration as you try to familiarize yourself with the location. Ellie's buzzing in your ear like a mosquito, singing along to something on the radio. You turn the volume down. "Quiet down, I can't see."

She nearly bursts at the seam with withheld laughter. "You want me to quiet down... because you can't see?" she teases.

"Ellie!" you groan. "We're already late for lunch with the family."

Promising yourself you'll settle in a hotel after what you hope will be a painless reunification with Sarah and the rest of the Millers, you find your destination and drive up a perfectly paved driveway. Joel's house, a craftsman-style facade done in red brick and accented with carved gable peaks, looks exactly like a house Joel would own.

Parking close enough on the curved driveway without blocking in any other cars, you take a moment to rest, stretching your neck and shoulders.

"Should've let me drive," Ellie says from her seat as you both start to disembark.

There's a smart remark on your lips but when you turn to her you're distracted by a figure at the side of the house.

Someone's chopping wood, splitting logs with precision, though not necessarily speed. He's wearing just a white tee shirt, jeans, boots. You let your eyes linger on his physique. Who is that? you wonder.

As if he can hear your thoughts or sense your presence, the figure turns and wipes the sweat off his brow.

You know him in an instant.

Joel.

Your heart feels like it's going into arrhythmia.

"Come on, Ellie," you hurry her up the walk and to the front steps.

"The bags--"

"Fuck the bags." You press the doorbell nervously, willing Sarah or anyone to open quickly.

"You made it!" Sarah practically mauls you as she greets you, giving both you and Ellie a hug.

You're swept inside where it's nice and cozy, the air scented with pine and gingerbread. Christmas garlands are strung over every doorway, along the staircase railing, the windows, and the fireplace.

"Was my dad out there? I told him he needs to start getting ready. I don't want him coming to the luncheon all sweaty," Sarah says.

"What? No. I didn't see anything.. anyone," you stutter.

"I'm happy you're here, because we're actually going to have lunch at the Tipsy Bison instead. It's Tommy's bar, you probably passed it on the way up here."

"Oh, uh.." you're distracted by Ellie precariously sloshing a winter themed snow globe, the thought of Joel is still spinning around in your sleep-deprived brain, and Sarah is still talking to you like you don't look completely zoned out and anxious.

To make things worse, Joel comes in, carrying most of yours and Ellie's luggage. His white tee sticks to his sweaty skin, his face pink with exertion and dewy with sweat, his hair dark with more gray now than ever, and on his beard too. His eyes, those dark depths you've lost yourself in so many times, peer into yours, and for a moment you forget to breathe.

"You left the trunk open," he murmurs, as if it's a quiet admonition, a secret he doesn't want to tell.

"Oh.. thank you. You didn't have to do that." Your nervous glance at him gives your blushing away because you see his face redden as well.

"Dad, can you believe she has a kid now?" Sarah says excitedly.

There's a jolt of fear when you realize father and daughter are going to be in the same room, and neither of them knows it.

"Uh, Ellie, this is Joel Miller. He's, uh, Sarah's dad, and I used to babysit Sarah.. a long time ago.." Being put on the spot, you falter your words.

"Put 'er there, Joel," Ellie says, holding out her hand for him to shake, which Joel does, the start of a tiny smirk on his lips.

"We all lived in Austin together, with your Aunt Sofia. I mean, we didn't live together but we were neighbors," you babble, feeling even more blush creep up your neck. "Way before you were born, kiddo."

Meanwhile Sarah's eyes dart from Ellie to Joel to you, and back again, slower each time, as if she's piecing the puzzle together. Her eyes linger on Ellie, her expression unreadable before settling on you. You quickly glance away.

"Let me take that from you," you motion to the luggage Joel's carrying.

"Nah, I got it. I'll show ya to y'all's rooms." He hefts the suitcases and bags like they're nothing and heads upstairs. You have no choice but to follow him, sneaking a little glance at how his great his ass looks in his jeans.

"Nice place you got here, Joel," Ellie remarks, eyes skyward, surveying the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "Do you always address your elders by their given names?"

"Ellie," you whisper harshly. "Mind your manners."

"Damn, sorry," she mutters back.

"Sorry, Joel. She's--"

"Hey, why do you get to call him Joel?"

"Because I'm an adult," you say under your breath.

"He's older than you. Like, a lot. Like, Grandpa Bob's age."

"Stop it," you say through clenched teeth as Joel clears his throat.

"I can put y'all next door to each other--"

"I call this one!" Ellie claims the first door on the left, grabbing her bags and leaving Joel to lead you a little further down the hall.

"'M afraid this one is right across the hall from mine," he mumbles, leading you inside the comfortably decorated bedroom to set your things down.

"Thank you," you murmur, heart thrumming in your chest. This is the first time you've been alone with him in fifteen years. "You.. have a really beautiful home here, Joel."

He looks around, eyes darting anywhere but yours. "Thank you, that means a lot. Built it myself-- well, with Tommy's help."

"Really?" It's hard to pretend you're not impressed. "Must've been a lot of hard work."

"Yeah, it was. But she's sturdy." Joel gives a sturdy pat to the wall, and you can't help looking at his hand, the way his thick fingers splay out against the dark green wallpaper. Those are fingers that used to find their way inside you, curving just so in order for you to come quickly while his lips and tongue worked in tandem to--

Ellie's voice comes from the other room. "Wow! You guys have cable? Do you have HBO?"

"No Euphoria!" you shout back, scoffing when she quiets again.

There are too many questions on the tip of your tongue, too many things you want to say but not when you're so nervous that your hands are shaking. Staying quiet is easier. More awkward, but easier.

The room fills with unspoken words and missed chances as the two of you shift uneasily, not knowing where to start, not knowing if you should start.

"Didn't know ya had a daughter," he grumbles. "Not 'til Sarah told me."

"Yeah. Ellie's.. precocious."

A ghost of a smile graces Joel's lips as he looks at you and for a moment in time you feel eighteen again.

"How old is she?" he asks.

"She turned fourteen this past spring." God, please don't let him do the math, please don't let him do the math.

Instead he gives a low whistle, wears a teasing smile. "You look good for bein' the mom of a teenager. You still look beauti-- still look the same," he finishes.

You're thirty nine now and in possession of all the complexities that come with your age. There's more gray in your hair than you care to admit (which Ellie tells you not to dye because it "looks cool"), and there are a few more pounds on your person and a few more lines on your face than you're happy with, but his compliment warms you nonetheless.

"You look.. good.. too." Jesus, how did this man age like fine wine? If anything, the past two decades only served to make him hotter. It's unfair.

He takes a step forward, his face determined, lips pursed like he's still calculating his decision. "I.. I wanted to say--"

This time Sarah comes up, dressed for the cold, putting on her gray gloves. "Dad, get in the shower already," she scolds him. "I'm taking her and Ellie to the Tipsy Bison. We'll see you there."

Joel's eyes set on you. "I don't mind takin' them."

You open your mouth to speak, even though you have no idea how to respond. "Honestly, I'll drive me and my daughter. And we can get a room in town."

"No way, Jose." Sarah loops your arm through hers. "You're staying with us and that's final. So, will you let me drive you, or do you want to wait for my dad?"

Waiting for Joel.. it seems you've spent the majority of your youth waiting for him.

"Can we go with Sarah?" Ellie asks, solving the problem for you.

In truth you would have liked a moment to rest, to sleep, to puzzle over the strangeness of the day so far. You're almost a thousand miles from the home you've made after your divorce, under the same roof as the man who changed your life in ways good and bad, harboring a secret from him and his family. Not to mention Ellie's ignorance of her origins.

Sarah herds you and Ellie into the Tipsy Bison, a spacious bar establishment on Main Street, part of the scenery you must have driven by without noticing upon driving into town. Inside is the typical decor you'd expect: neon lights advertising every brand of beer and alcohol you can imagine, taxidermy mounts of bears, bucks, and elk. Pool tables are at the far left, dartboards to the right, a couple of foosball tables as well. There's a stage beyond the pool tables, ready for a band or DJ, a makeshift dance floor in front of it, and colored lights remain still overhead, their brightness dulled and stilled by the daytime.

There's a homey, cozy feeling as you glance around. The bar spreads along the far side beyond a range of tables and booths, boasting a wide variety of booze. Working behind the bar is a face you haven't seen in awhile: Tommy.

He comes out to greet you, his smile and bright and joyful as you've always known him to be, and part of you feels guilty that the last time you were together you'd been drunk, making out next to his truck, after meeting in a bar just like this one.

"Hey you!" He envelops you in a tight hug, and you start to feel better. Bygones are certainly bygones in his case.

"Tommy, it's good to see you again," you smile, pulling away to get a good look at him. "You've hardly aged. What's with you Millers, are you all vampires or something?" You cast a playful look at Sarah, who's bringing her fiance and her son to meet you.

Tommy shrugs, a playful grin on his lips. "You're more than welcome to join our Legion of the Undead," he jokes.

You're introduced to Theo, Sarah's husband-to-be, who's on the quiet side, a contradiction to Sarah who's chattering away about him, and Finn, who's an exact replica of his dad, eyeing you and Ellie with a shy smile.

Ellie manages to find a friend in him as you and the others get to catching up. You're introduced to Maria, Tommy's wife, the roundness of her baby bump just barely showing. She oversees the caterers as they start setting up for lunch. Tommy and Sarah talk about you like you're a part of the family instead of someone who knew them for a summer and changed things forever, even in some small way.

"Sarah tells me this is your place now," you speak to Tommy, who's behind the bar and pouring you a drink.

"Sure is," he says, sliding the drink across the bar to you. "Don't know anyone who orders a gin and tonic in the middle of winter," he says, teasing you.

"I'm eccentric," you smirk, taking a sip of the crisp, slightly bitter drink.

"Should be you behind this bar, Cherry," he winks.

"Oh god, no one's called me that in forever," you groan, doing a quick check on Ellie to find her attempting to play pool with Finn.

"How's business?" you ask him.

"Good, good," he nods. "Just glad to be settin' down some roots, buildin' somethin' for when the baby comes."

"Congratulations," you smile. "You and Maria seem like a good fit."

"Well.. y'know.. can't fuck around forever," he chuckles, then he spots someone at the entrance.

"Hey, brother!" Tommy raises his hand in greeting and you stay still, wishing you could sink down into the ground or better yet, become invisible completely.

The old-fashioned jukebox ends a Fleetwood Mac song and drifts into "Hungry Heart" by Bruce Springsteen starts, the catchy, melancholic combo of piano, drums, bass, guitar and saxophone wafting throughout the bar. You keep your eyes on your drink, willing for all of this to be just a dream, some intrusive thought you've put incredible detail into, prolonging your grief over lost love.

But there he is, a barstool between you, giving you your space while ready to jump up at a moment's notice if you want him closer. Your casual glance gives you away when you stare too long at him, clad in a green flannel shirt, his gray tee peeking beneath. You could swear it's the same flannel shirt you wore at the cabin, in the days when you were younger and carefree, before bad things happened to separate you.

Joel catches your look, lips twitching into a smile as his hands wrap around a glass of whiskey.

"So, what took you away from Boston?" you ask, putting your lips to your drink so you're not tempted to ask too much. It's an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"Lot of things," he mutters, staring into the amber liquid. "But mostly I followed Tommy out here."

"I was in Boston with him for awhile." Tommy shakes his head. "Hated it. I'll never set foot on the East Coast again if I can help it. I came out here, met Maria, started a family."

"And Sarah was already out here, buildin' a life. Just made sense for us all to be together again."

You look at both of them, glad the conversation isn't just between you and Joel. "The house is amazing. Joel told me you both built it."

The look of pride on their faces is endearing.

"We did, and mine too, across the street from his," Tommy adds.

"What happened to the contracting business?"

"We expanded it," Joel answers, a twinkle in his eye though his expression remains serious. "Made a nice chunk of change. Got branches in Oklahoma, Arkansas, even as far as Georgia."

That would explain the six-bedroom house, the fancy week-long wedding rituals that Sarah has joyfully swept you up in, and the catered lunches. The Millers have become quite financially well-off.

You listen to the brothers talk about some of the adventures they've been on, the good and the bad that has passed and ultimately brought them here, with you, once again.

The lunch spread is impressive: Texas style barbecue of ribs, brisket, and chicken; side dishes of beans, potato salad, grilled corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, and mouthwatering desserts of pumpkin and pecan pies, cheesecake, banana pudding, and peach cobbler.

You haven't realized how hungry you are until you realize you have to remember to force yourself to eat slower, accidentally spilling a little barbecue sauce on your shirt. Embarrassed, you wipe it away, glancing at Ellie and finding her doing the same thing, just shoveling forkfuls of food in her mouth.

"Easy there," Joel's voice booms from across the table. "No one's gonna take it from ya," he playfully chides.

You were so absorbed in your lunch that you didn't realize he was right across from you. "Ellie," you scold her quietly. "Slow down."

"This is slow for me," she answers.

"Mind your mama," Joel says gruffly, his tone is authoritative.

She looks up at him, in annoyance and surprise. "You don't tell me what to do."

"And you don't talk back like that." Joel's voice gets a little more strict.

"Joel, stop," you intercede, your voice just as terse. The chatter around the table has dimmed but it's obvious everyone has their focus on you three.

"The kid obviously needs some fuckin' manners."

You scoff. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

His eyes lock with yours, dark and cold. "I see where she gets it from. I guess that's what happens when a dad ain't around to teach some respect."

"Fuck this," Ellie mutters, pushing back from the table and throwing down her napkin, quick to get up and leave.

Your face is flaming red with both anger and embarrassment as your gaze burns through Joel's. "There's something wrong with you. Seriously," you mutter before getting up to go after her.

Joel goes after you. Sarah goes after Joel.

"Ellie!" you call out, watching her walk off in the direction of the house.

"I'll get her," Sarah volunteers, gently touching your arm. And then you hear her speak to Joel under her breath, something like "You're ruining it," before she hurries up to catch Ellie.

It's you and Joel now.

"Babygirl," he starts, his voice low.

"Babygirl?? Fuck you!"

Joel goes pale, obviously not expecting that. "I deserve that. I deserve for you to hate me."

"Hate you? No, you deserve worse than for me to hate you! How dare you yell at Ellie like that? I never once saw you treat Sarah that way."

"She never acted like that," he huffs.

"Do us both a favor and just stay away from us for the rest of the week. I'll see about getting a motel tonight, just.. fucking leave us alone."

He mutters Christ, and reaches for you, pulls you to the side of the building. "I'm sorry, all right?"

"Yeah? Tell her that." You could easily leave. He's not restraining you, but you stay. "Is that all you have to apologize for?"

He looks guilty. "No, of course not. I've been trying to talk to you since you got here--"

"Fifteen goddamn years and I don't hear anything from you? And now you.. what, you expect me to fall into your arms like I'm a stupid fucking teenager again? Go to hell! Nothing is that simple anymore!"

You hadn't meant for all your rage to come spilling out, it was just supposed to be about Ellie, but now that you're face to face with him, you can't help wanting to rage at him. Joel backs away from you, his eyes on the ground, hands on his hips, jaw set.

"Longer than that, actually," you softly correct yourself. "San Antonio.. you fucking left me. On my birthday."

He steps forward, not ready to back down. "I went to jail for you. On my birthday."

"I didn't ask you to do that! I didn't ask for anything but for you to love me! And you stopped!"

"No, I didn't," he whispers, arms hanging at his side even though they itch to reach out for you, hold you, make it better again.

"Don't say that," you warn him, backing away. "Don't insult my intelligence, Joel. You don't know what I went through after you left me. My heart was broken for years!"

"You were just a kid. I.. I thought I was doin' right by lettin' you go."

"I wasn't better because of you breaking up with me. I got worse! So much worse!" You don't dwell a lot on the past, specifically the college years that are now mostly a blur of hookups and hangovers, but now it all comes rushing back. Joel was your safety net and he took all that away from you once you started to freefall.

"Bullshit. You got married," he says bitterly.

"I did that so I could feel normal again. I tried to save myself. But it didn't matter in the end because he didn't love me either. Though I have to say, my divorce hurt a hell of a lot less than your abandonment."

Joel starts to look his age. The lines in his face deepen with worry and regret as he absorbs your words, mulling over everything that has happened. "I'm sorry--"

"Besides, you got married too! So please don't play like you're such a saint. You hardly look the part." Your anger has warmed you, given some spice to your blood so that you don't even feel the cold anymore. You roll your sleeves to your elbows, fists curled, adrenaline pumping as you finally tell him everything that's been locked away inside your heart.

"I don't accept your apology," you grunt, adding, "And don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again!" You storm off, wishing you'd brought your jacket but it would mean having to walk past Joel, back into the restaurant and out again, and you're already walking away. It seems one of you is always walking away from the other.

It's snowing again when you find Sarah and Ellie, further down in front of a storefront, steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands. Both are smiling, chatting, seemingly getting along. You know you should reprimand Ellie, tell her to apologize to Joel, but how can you be a hypocrite that way when you won't even talk to him yourself? All you can think about is leaving, going straight to the motel and picking up your things at Joel's later.

Sarah talks you into staying, warning of bad weather coming in soon. She apologizes for Joel, and you apologize for airing your grievances so publicly.

"Just don't do it at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow," she smirks. "Then I'll have to leave your ass out in the snow."

That evening you and Ellie keep to your rooms. You use your phone for distraction when your attention span keeps drifting from your novel, but even technology isn't the answer. There's only so much Merge Mansion you can play, and not even True Detective can hold your attention for long. You decide to rewatch Narcos (for the plot, you tell yourself) when Ellie knocks on your door.

"What's up, kiddo?" You press pause and scoot over on the bed, offering her to get comfy next to you.

"Have you seen the news?"

You're on Do Not Disturb and haven't gotten any of your usual notifications.

"There's a blizzard coming tonight. Sarah says sometimes the main roads get snowed in and we won't be able to get out."

Oh Sarah Miller, the purveyor of bad news. "She told me something like that. How long do they expect conditions to last?" You're already checking your phone.

"Could be days, maybe even up to a week," Ellie shrugs.

"Great," you mutter. "So we're stuck here even after the wedding?" It's the day after tomorrow.

"Please don't make us go to the motel. Sarah's really cool and really nice. And I even like Theo and Finn.. even Joel isn't so bad so long as he stops talking to me like a dad."

That night, as the blizzard blows in, turning everything outside completely white, Joel tosses in his sleep in his room across the hall from yours. It's not the howling winds keeping him awake; he's lived here long enough to get used to such natural disasters.

There's something you said to him, earlier outside the bar. It was an explosive moment, with words exchanged like bullets. But in the midst of it all he took away that one sentence: don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again.

Our daughter?

dividers by @saradika 👑

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penvisions · 8 months ago

Text

return the favor {chapter 22}

Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader || M! OC x Pre Boston QZ! Reader (flashback scenes)

Summary: Memories often spring up at the worst of times, but as you continue to travel alone there's not much else to occupy your mind.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: minor character death, m! oc death, canon typical violence, canon typical language, cursing, insult, sexual content, non con, allusions to non con sexual advances, allusions to p in v, unprotected p in v that results in pregnancy, kissing, pregnancy, symptoms of pregnancy, mentions of nausea but no vomiting, allusions to child loss, fighting, blood, reader gets injured, joel gets injured, guns, gun violence, self-depreciating internal monologue, if i left anything out pls lemme know!

A/N: trying something new with this chapter, i hope it reads well! thank you to everyone who participated in the poll for the next few chapters of this fic! this one is a little shorter, but the next one will be a doozy. my mind is a little overwhelmed with school and tutoring and four different WIPS

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Joel was trying.

He was trying to tamp down the anxiety he knew would thrum in his veins the second the gates of Jackson closed behind him. Back out in the unknown and unpredictable landscape. Winter was granting him a passive day, no snow, no biting wind, cloud coverage clear for the sky to shine a light blue to crystal clear you would think it was a brisk summer day. But the pause in extreme weather aside from the near freezing temperature did nothing to quell the pulse beneath his skin.

He was alone, traveling with a teenager he had come to care about in a dangerous way.

The journey had been meant to be made with Tess, first. Strong-willed, no-nonsense saint of a woman for taking what he could offer her and not asking for anything in return. Just wanting to share space and renown within a controlled setting that allowed for them to execute their runs and make what passed for a decent living back in what was left of the quarantine zones. To share their bodies when human nature sparked connection in the oldest and most instinctual of ways. She had turned an eye to his abuse of the very same things they traded for food, for water, for supplies for their shabby apartment that had seen far better days before they stepped foot inside.

Then journey was then meant to be made with you. A surprise in the moments after her death. Skilled in many things and willing to help a man suddenly saddled with a teenager he had no clue how to interact with. But he had, once upon a time. The situation tasting of irony and self-destruction. Selfless to the point of disembarking on your own path in the wake of his own attempt at running when faced with something too real for the world. Maybe in the Before times, it would have worked out. Perhaps a meet cute as he delivered his brother to an urgent care for a drunken blunder, a work accident he himself fell victim to, or a begged visit for Sarah should she had fallen off her bike or taken a tumble in soccer practice. Maybe then it would have been given life, hopeful glances and lingering touches that would have turned into nervous dates. Nervous dates that would give way to regular familiarity and then heated nights beneath sheets of his bed.

But it had never should’ve blossomed in the now, in the after. And yet, it had tried.

Ellie was mad. She wasn’t trying.

Not the first day at least.

Speaking when spoken to, ire and hurt flaring uncomfortably in moments he could sense weren’t aimed at him. At least not completely. Aimed at you, for going back on your word. Something you wouldn’t have had to do if he hadn’t screwed up so monumentally by falling for you. He had been wrong in his accusations, throwing the proposition you made to him all those days ago back in your face. Like you had forced yourself on him, forced him into thinking of you that way, of wanting you that way. But it had been him, his decision to take you up on it in his grief. Wanting to feel something other than the gaping hole that seemed to eat up more and more of him as the years went by.

But instead of just taking his body in the ways he allowed you to, you had also begun to heal that black hole he was made up of. Slowly and so minimally at a time that he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

He stopped and made the time to teach her how to shoot the rifle, hoping it would help to bring her out of her shell. And it worked, he silently thanked the universe, it worked. She was cracking jokes and quipping like normal. Mirth lighting up her eyes and questions flowing from her. And he indulged them, as best he could. Telling her of how he supported himself before the world fell apart. About how he always dreamed of singing and making music.

But just as everything seemed to be on the mend, it was broken once again.

With the crack of a wooden bat.

“A-Angelo?” You voice was as shaky as your reaching hands, fingers brushing against the man’s face only a few steps away. He was older, that much was certain. Only a year apart back then, back when the world functioned in an entirely different way. Only a year apart, but two decades of time separating you now, turned into completely different people. A wave of emotions at finding your family by pure chance and circumstance in the wilds of a state you had never been to before while on your way to look for them hit hard. You both surged forward and embraced, the man’s arms coming around you and tightening.

“I thought it was you, the hair,” He choked out, deep voice cracking. He was so broad, tall frame looming over you, developed fully into a man who had survived the worst of nature and humanity. Just as you had grown into a woman who took nothing of ill nature aimed at you, taking the things that had happened to you and using it as a foundation to be stronger.

“It’s me, I’m okay.” You gripped his shoulders tight, pushing him back a little to look him over.

“No injuries, no bites, you’re okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m okay….We both are.”

That’s when your mind decided to remind you of the other voice you heard, the feminine one.

A young girl, no more than her teens and far too skinny was half concealed behind a tree trunk a few yards away. Her eyes were brown, honey brown and beautiful and they reminded you of so many people lost to space and time. They shown just as Taylor’s had done, once upon a time. Like you had both talked of wishing to see on a bright new, chubby face…

“Oh.” The phantom jolt of a kick felt through the skin of your aunt’s stomach so many years ago sprung to life in the palm of your hand. “Oh, Angelo. I’m-I’m so sorry.”

He detached from you, taking a few steps toward the girl, now in between you both equally. He held out a hand to her, his gloves tattered and stitching frayed in certain places.

“It’s okay, she’s okay. She’s family.”

“You’re so beautiful,” You gently coached her out, hoping nice words would help her to feel safe. “I’ve never met you, but I’ve waited a very long time to. You- you can call me by my name or Bean, if you’d like?”

“This is our cousin, from mom’s side. Do you remember her saying that we needed to go East?”

A small nod, wide eyes taking in the situation.

“It was to find her. She’s good, smart, she can help keep us alive.”

“You’ve been doing good on your own.” She didn’t move, not taking a step to back away and put distance between you nor toward you in a hesitant greeting. Her wide brown eyes were alert, telling of the things she’d experienced and been witness to. Of how cautious she was in the face of new people, a good thing to be but completely unwarranted in this particular case.

“Yes, but…Adela, we…we need help. This season, it’s harsh and we don’t know this land as well.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I know we’re practically strangers but we are related. I know that doesn’t mean much these days to some people, but it means a great deal to me. I will do everything in my power to protect you, just like your brother.”

Hours later, after a shared meal and an introduction of your gifted appaloosa, camp was made and secured. Adela was fast asleep, one of the blankets you had tucked underneath the saddle wrapped around her small frame inside her sleeping bag. Light snoring sounding from the bundle she made against the horse.

“We’re the only ones that made it.” Angelo said before you could even figure out how to ask after everyone. Outbreak day a rather taboo subject amongst those that survived it. For Joel, at least, for you it was easier to divulge but still not a light subject to talk about. You had been willing with Ellie, with Maria. The first to quell her curious questions, to allow her another perspective on the events before her time that shaped the world into the one that she knew. The second to appeal to her, to connect with someone who felt comfortable.

“We didn’t know anything was going on for a while, you know how it is working in a ware. house all day. But when I got home that evening, apparently grandma had passed during the morning. Scared the hell out of everyone when she came sprinting into the living room and lunged at dad.”

“I…I can’t imagine, I’m so sorry. I know I had a missed call from the house that day, but I had been running late. And then, you know….”

“It’s okay,” One of his gloved hands reached out, taking the closest one of yours and squeezing. “We both made it, Adela made it. I love our family and cared so much for everyone, but this world is too harsh for them. It was always going to be us and that’s the only comfort I have in what happened.”

Silently agreeing, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, your grandparents had softened in their age, his parents and your father caring for them together. Soft in their endearment too, not suited for a life of constant unrest, of constant fear and paranoia. Of scrounging for food and basic supplies, having to defend what was yours by any means necessary.

“I was traveling with a man from Boston QZ and a girl, we were trying to find her family out this way. The last lead would’ve taken us to the University of Eastern Colorado.” You admitted over dinner the next day, having taught Adela the basics of how to properly interact with a horse, how to climb up in the saddle. While she was tall, she was skinny. Alarmingly so, but Angelo assured you that he always made sure she had enough to eat. He was willing to go without to provide for her, to ensure her still growing body had as much as it needed, or close to it at least.

“We were just there,” He took a breath, savoring the smell of the coffee that you had brewed for him as you all settled around the fire for the night. Scraps of foil that had contained easy, portioned meals to through on the fire that Maria had provided you with. “Well, around there. We came across a group of people settled into an old lodge town. Not to far from the city actually.”

Something about the man’s tone had you delaying your questions until Adela had laid down to rest for the night, tired from the day of interaction. But she was warming up to you, a familiar comfortability between you both as you talked to her about her mother. She admitted quietly that Angelo wasn’t willing to talk about their parents, people she had never had the chance to meet. The chaos of Outbreak day and those following it too much for him to talk about.

“We-uh, we left the group pretty quickly.” The man cleared his throat, turning around to ensure that his little sister was indeed asleep and not feigning it in order to eavesdrop. “The leader, god – what was his name? It doesn’t matter, he was so nice at first. Preaching about how people need to stick together, that his flock chose him to lead them and look after them.”

Your heart sank to your stomach, religious fanatics always putting you on edge. The way they manipulated the words of the bible in order to further their own agenda. And the way Angelo described him as initially nice and welcoming. A ploy, a trap laid out to ensnare people.

“But the first morning there, he came to visit us in the small set up they provided us with. Asked Adela to go out on a walk with him while I was still asleep. She hadn’t wanted to go, but felt obligated. Like he was just going to give her a tour or somethin’ and it was harmless, ya know?”

The rush of blood in your ears was loud, but you strained against it, needing to hear the words coming from the man beside you.

“He- that motherfucker, he exposed himself to her. Said that if she wanted to stay and use their resources that she needed to earn her keep. She begged me to leave right that second, to gather our stuff and make a run for it. But I don’t her we needed to act like nothing happened, to wait until nightfall and take what we could. So we did….but if you said you were traveling with a girl…brown hair, short, scar in her eyebrow?”

“Yes.” You breathed out, body thrumming with fear. No….no…there was no way Ellie could’ve been taken by the same men. She wouldn’t willingly go with anyone, had been hesitant to even let you or Joel out of her sight for too long….That meant…Joel had to have been injured in order for them to steal her away from him.

“She was unconscious, they were…they were carrying her into the settlement.”

Your head shot up, drink spilling over your hands cupped around the thermos.

“No.” You stood, hands steady despite the flood of emotions raging around in your mind. “No, no, no. I know those people, without them I wouldn’t have made it back out this way. We traveled from the other coast.”

It was late, but you didn’t care. You were gathering everything you needed, your pack and half of the food supply.

Adela roused at the noise, springing up and reaching for your hands.

“No, please, don’t leave us. We’ve lost too much already.” Tears were in her wide eyes, tugging at your heart in more ways than one. You crouched down in front of her, clasping your gloved hands around her own. Giving her your undivided attention.

“Honey, please, listen to me. I’m- I – I don’t want to leave you two, but I have to. Please understand. The girl that you saw, that was…she’s important to me. And she needs my help. I’ll see you again, I promise. I swear to you, Adela, I will see you again. Behind the walls of Jackson, we can…we can have a life there.”

Standing, you pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I’ll tell you embarrassing stories about your brother from when we were little.”

Pulling the map from your pocket, you circled the spot for Jackson with a marker.

“Here, this map will get you back to a settlement. Jackson. It’s large, has walls, it works. Ask for Maria or Tommy, tell them my name and that I sent you. Tell them you’re my family, you are. Take this,” You moved to wrap your old coat you had draped over your lap over the small frame of the girl and push the map that would lead them back to Jackson in the man’s hands.

The man surged up and gripped you tight in a bear hug, his body wrapped completely around you like he would do ever since he had begun to tower over you as children.

“Please, be safe!”

“Seek refuge in Jackson. I’ll return there, I promise.” You urged as you mounted the horse, reigns tight in your hands.

You clicked your tongue and tugged hard, urging the horse forward. The sound of hooves beating on the frozen ground was the only sound in the quiet, frozen night.

The remains of the a few bodies were scattered about the derelict campus that had been the destination sought out by them. Joel and Ellie. Those you were searching for nowhere to be seen, only hints of them in the bullet casings, the torn-up dirt, a bat broken in half- the jagged ends of one piece soaked in a deep red stain of blood. Joel’s, if your cousin’s words and your spiraling thoughts were correct.

Internally cursing at the man for pulling it out, for not waiting for a better moment, for not thinking in the haze his mind must’ve been.

Just as you began to trace the trail of rather fat droplets, you heard the crunch of someone stepping on fallen leaves behind you. Before you could even turn around completely to face them, someone was wrapping their arms around your neck, cutting off your air.

Your last thought was of Angelo and Adela. Of Joel and Ellie.

‘It was hot. Sweltering. And your dress was too tight over your swollen middle. It was a small bump, barely visible from the front, more so from the side. You had thought you indulged in too much food one evening after a deer had been caught but the teasing jab soon delved into something more serious. Especially when the swelling hadn’t gone down in the following days and nausea became a morning ritual.

You had been ecstatic, a first for you. And exciting thing you had always wanted. A faint thought you hadn’t entertained even in a working world, a notion you hadn’t thought possible at all with the demise of the world. When you had told him, Taylor had shared in your excitement, immediately beginning to hoard everything he could loot from the nearby state park. Gathering everything you could use, whether it was to repurpose it or store it for the future.

You had found a pocket of happiness and security in the rubble of the world, hidden deep in the forests of Tennessee in the form of a man who welcomed you into his space when all you had wanted to do was run. Finding yourself injured and needing aid, he had offered it to you.

What had begun as a small stay to ensure you would heal okay, that your stitches were secure and wouldn’t pull. But the conversations that flowed from one to another over those first few days tied you to each other. Braiding together your futures in such a wonderful way. There was no way to know how badly the universe would fray the untethered strings.

The only consolation was that the nights were cooler, the evenings and mornings twinged with a chill that signaled the end of an unseasonable warm fall. But as time moved on, Taylor had pleaded with you to consider staying close to the cabin. You had agreed, the symptoms of your pregnancy making it hard to do much of anything for long. Hunting and patrolling far too much for you to handle at the moment.

You were tending to the horses when he appeared behind you, arms snaking around your shoulders. The tickling of his facial hair sprouting giggles from you. The horses snickered, sharing in your delight. After securing them back in the modest stable, large hands were wrapping around you and sweeping you off of your tired feet.

“C’mon, princessa, let’s go have a nap.”

“But I don’t wanna,” You whined, not wanting to waste the sunshine while it was still showing, winters notoriously gray and overcast in this part of the region. The looming mountains casting dark shadows over pockets of land. Thankfully the cabin wasn’t in one of those regions, hidden well by the tall trees and stained a dark green all along the roof to avoid searching eyes to those at a higher altitude.

“Who said we were gonna sleep, silly girl?” Taylor swooped down to kiss you fully on the lips. Stirring warmth in your core. With a deep laugh at the chasing of your lips after his, he carefully rushed up the stairs and through the front door. “I’m gonna devour you, you’re too good looking a snack to leave untouched.”

“Oh hush,” You curled your hands into the long hair he had tied into a bun at the back of his head. Taking the band from around it and causing the strands to cascade around his handsome face.

“Glowing and full of me, carrying our baby in your pretty little tummy. Good god, you’re constantly on my mind, princessa, you’re my entire world.”

“And you’re mine, mi amor.”

Bubbling giggles flowed through the cabin as he made his way up the stairs and through the small landing. Into the bedroom that you found happiness in the midst of the fallen world.’

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

taglist: @furiousmushroom@sawymredfox @ayamenimthiriel @bookloverkat @rosaaeles @narcissa-anastasia @littlemisspascal @oscarissac2099 @ghostwritesthings @76bookworm76 @elli3williams @sarap-77 @christinamadsen @vivian-pascal @dugiioh

#dev writes #fic: return the favor #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #ellie williams #platonic ellie williams

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sixofpomegranates · 2 years ago

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Most of them are Eddie Munson fics since I am going through some severe brain rot because of this spicy golden retriever. Also, how dark shall my recommendations go? I surely have some dark taste in smut but keep it mostly calm for you. Let me know!

The order is random and not indicative of how much I liked them. There is no ranking, just sharing some really good pieces of work so we can all enjoy it!

13 Recommendations || 🐇 = My opinion. || Pink Color = SMUT

Ghostin’ (series) by @munson-blurbs

➢ Summary: Before dying in the Upside Down, Eddie asks Steve to take care of you. The grief coupled with your burgeoning feelings for one another may be too much for you to handle, especially when you get some shocking news.

🐇: Holy shit. This is one of the most impressive pieces of fanfiction I have ever read. It's— I feel speechless and like telling you the entire plot at the same time. It ties in with canon so perfectly, I would legit accept it as my Season 5. This is amazing. I cried, laughed, and am unreasonably invested. No shit. If you only ever read one fanfiction of my recommended ones, it needs to be this! || Still ongoing / Steve Harrington x f!Reader

You, Me, & Steve (one-shot) by @lis-likes-fics

➢ No Summary, so just listen to me describe it: Okay, so, Reader and Eddie are a couple and lately Eddie brings Steve along to everything, causing Reader to think he wants to be with Steve. Turns out our Babygirl is bicurious and Eddie offered that he and Reader be Steve’s first bi experience should she be up for it. She is. Here are the warnings or how I like to call it shopping list: smut, face riding, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, deepthroating, praise kink, daddy kink, gay sex, I'm not saying Steve's a sub but Steve's a sub, bottom!Steve, top!Eddie, switch?reader, overstimulation, threesome...

🐇: Listen: I read this fic a couple of months ago and LOST it! I couldn't find it anymore! BUT the way Reader and Eddie gave me MASSIVE bi-panic stuck in my head. THIS is one of my top Eddie x Steve x Reader fics... asdfghjkl. Do yourself a favor and read this kinky piece of porn.

helping hands. (one-shot) by @daddyreid

➢ Summary: you and steve are having some trouble getting you to fit him, so he takes you to his friend eddie, who is happy to help.

🐇: I love when things have vibes. And this had vibes. I would read an entire series like this. It’s a very good one-shot. daddy!steve harrington & dom!eddie. That's it. That's all I have to say. I also have a daddy kink so... Yeah.

Bad Idea (one-shot) by @lunarzstarz

➢ Summary: Not wanting to leave for college with your virginity still intact, you turn to your last resort that you know can only end terribly…

🐇: Fuckboy!Eddie can ruin my life. I am in pain but very pleased. I– This– He– The things he said... 💳💥💳💥 // Just read that there will be more parts and I– I just– YES?! This is so good.

as long as you need (one-shot) by @lilacletter

➢ Summary: your hang out with eddie takes a different turn when you confess something big to him. your ex wouldn’t make you cum because he thought you took too long to finish. eddie's reaction of shock and disbelief is the last thing you were expecting. you feel embarrassed for a moment but lucky for you, eddie has a lot of patience and a hidden desire to take care of you.

🐇: Wow. I loved this so much. So sweet. So smutty. So dorky. So perfect. 10/10. Bestfriend!Eddie & friends to lovers have my whole heart.

It's About Time (one-shot) by @eddiethefreakkmunson

➢ Summary: You and your best friend Eddie decide it's time to lose your virginity to each other, after all who is a better choice than the person you love more than anyone else in the world?

🐇: This was so sweet! I have such a weak spot for these tropes! Not to mention that Eddie is so soft through all of this. 100% boyfriend material.

the freak pirate and the slut princess (one-shot) by @mypoisonedvine

➢ Summary: halloween is that special night where you can be anything you want to be... maybe more than the labels everyone else gives you. maybe even more than 'just friends'. (aka, reader has a reputation, eddie's still a virgin, filth ensues)

🐇: This fic lives in my head rent-free. My brain chemistry got rearranged. Get your dose of friends to lovers & virgin!Eddie here! You won't regret it.

I´ll Paint You Mornings Of Gold (one-shot) by @shamevillain

➢ Summary: You’re the most special thing Eddie has in his life, he just wants to make sure you know it.

🐇: Labyrinth aka my favorite movie, spaghetti as candles, Eddie being so in love and high on sugar... Perfection.

Only Lonely (one-shot) by @shamevillain

➢ Summary: Rumors about Eddie Munson have run rampant as long as you can remember. You’ve crossed paths only briefly, but maybe the notorious freak of Hawkins isn’t as bad as you’ve come to believe.

🐇: YOU HAVE TO READ THIS! I lost it a while ago and finding it again was like discovering the lost city of Atlantis for me! The smut rearranged my brain chemistry. I am foaming at the mouth, that how good it was. And Eddie was perfect! Goofy, hot, sweet... 10/10. Seriously. Read it.

—✨The one's that follow are solely Omegaverse—A/O/B one-shots. I have fallen down the Omegaverse – Rabbit Hole. Didn't see myself interested in this. Yet, here I am. Don't judge me. Seriously. I’ll block you.✨—

it happened one night in detention (one-shot) by @mypoisonedvine

➢ Summary: eddie's chances of being an alpha are quite small. your chances of presenting as an omega, especially while still in high school, are almost none. almost.

🐇: I guess it has to do with my size kink and the fact that I am the most submissive bottom you've ever seen, but this? ↑THIS↑ is my jam. // edit: I read the book Heat Haven by Sarah Blue after this on Kindle Unlimited, and yeah, I am still into this. So into this.

I Heard Your Voice and it Carries Me (one-shot) by @cha0ticspacebi

➢ Summary: Like 91% of the population, you were now and would always be a beta. Except when your roommate moves out suddenly and fate connects you with Alpha Eddie Munson. After that, things start to change.

🐇: Don't look at me 🫣! I already told you I fell down a rabbit hole! This was so cute & fluffy, and the well-developed worldbuilding in this one-shot is so good. Don't judge me!

little glass doves (one-shot) by @mysticmunson

➢ No Summary, so enjoy my attempt to describe it: Alpha!Eddie and Omega!Reader are already a couple and recently both presented. Their friends are keeping them now at distance since... Hormones, Ya know?

🐇: No smut, just hinting. But it's so cute.

between four walls (one-shot) by @mysticmunson

➢ Summary: when you disappear from school for a few days, eddie is a bit bewildered, until he has a sneaking suspicion.

🐇: I hope this author never stops feeding my alpha!eddie addiction. This is the spicy brother of “little glass doves.” Stunning.

To the writers of these fics:

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donnerpartyofone · 1 year ago

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This has been a really hard one to talk about. I'm always very ambivalent about mourning celebrities. I try to remember that I don't know these people, that what is really mourned by most of us is the person's ongoing work, which in the best cases has helped us understand ourselves and the world in which we live. Unavoidably, though, you can start to develop the sense that you know these people personally, which isn't true or even appropriate necessarily, I mean you have no idea whether you would even like someone you've only seen on a screen or received an autograph from; but at the same time, I don't know if you can really force yourself not to feel like the deceased celebrity is a dear friend you will never get to talk to again (the last time I tried and failed was the passing of Lux Interior). Maybe this is more forgivable, and also more inevitable, if you feel like you grew up with the person.

Of course this is all about ME now, but my mother (who also died from cancer) was an extremely hip, brilliant, funny individual who for whatever reason refused to form a relationship with me. This was pretty strange, because we liked a lot of the same things--B movies, old comics, all types of camp and kitsch--but when I liked those things, it was in poor taste and punishable by exile, whereas when she liked those things, it was evidence of her cultural genius. Before I make anybody too mad I should say that I'm being a little bit unfairly reductive just so I can get to the point, which is that one of the few things we could share was Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I didn't know anything about the show's more adult origins or the fact that Paul Reubens was sort of a performance artist, but I didn't have to. Pee-Wee's Playhouse was a feast for any child's senses: stylish, hilarious, and on some subliminal level, really sophisticated. I was clued into some of what was going on just because I watched it with my mom, who always laughed at Pee-Wee's winks and nudges to the hep parents in the audience. The show might have been my first encounter with the kind of anthropological humor favored by people like David Byrne and Laurie Anderson, artists who engage subversively with cliches, stereotypes, and other memetic parts of popular culture. In Pee-Wee's Playhouse, with its sharp, edgy cast and crew, kids like me were getting into fine art without even knowing it--which is possibly the best way to learn about art anyway.

In fact, on the other side of our house, I became obsessed with Gary Panter's incredible punk opus Jimbo In Paradise, a Dantesque comic book about an innocent young guy living in a dystopian future, where he is occasionally joined by guest stars such as Nancy and Hedorah. I was about 7 when I started reading Jimbo over and over again even though I could barely understand it, and I had no idea that Gary had pretty much designed Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I'm speaking about him so familiarly because I got to know him a little bit as a grownup. I remember Gary talking about how private Paul Reubens could be. He used to do this thing where he would accept a dinner invitation from anybody who asked, as sort of a stunt, but he had to stop doing it because people became so intrusive and entitled with him. Gary said that they'd be walking around in New York and when they saw an obvious Pee-Wee fan gearing up for an offensive, Paul Reubens would sort of transform into this totally different person, putting out an aura that let you know not to fuck with him. It's crazy-making to think that someone who was so protective of the boundary between his private and public selves had to suffer that ridiculous arrest, but it's heartening that most of society eventually grew the fuck up and forgot about it. It's also helpful to remember when he turned up later on the MTV Music Video Awards and started off by asking the audience, "HEARD ANY GOOD JOKES LATELY??"

I'm glad we got one more Pee-Wee special in the past several years, but I always wished that we would see Paul Reubens in more movies. He was such a cool actor, funny, convincing, and naturally charismatic. While people are cycling through their favorite roles of his, I want to point out that he had a great role on a recent HBO miniseries called Mosaic, an intense, engrossing crime drama that I definitely recommend if you have access. Maybe I'll rewatch it, too. In closing, here's a great story that I grabbed from Facebook that should warm everybody's heart, along with the heartbreaking statement (inappropriately cropped by Instagram of course) released upon the death of the very private Pee-Wee Herman. It makes you wish you could thank him in person, for everything. The best we can do is just remember him.

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slickfordain · 2 years ago

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Your work is awesome!!

I'll read everything else rq, but first-

Hello, how was your day? How are you feeling?

If it's okay, may I share a bit of my game and ask how will characters react on it?

So uhh

I always say out loud how adorable Nahida is and how she is my "adopted child"

Also during the archon quest I was litteraly chanting "someone help, love and protect her please"

Also when I didn't get Nahida on her banner, I was like "Sages, if it was You, I'm about to destroy you"

I also always greet my team and say "bye" if I'm leaving.

I switch to every character and tell them it. Even how THEY did while I was gone

Maybe I'm going insane Idk?

If you don't want to do it, it's okay!^^

Bye-bye! And again- your work(s) are awesome! Gotta read some more

I may sound insane but I as well say “Hello / hi” to Genshin characters one time because I wanted them to feel welcomed??? I’m kind of new to this shit so I stole my friend’s phone to say hi to them 💀💀 this is such a cute request overall, Nahida is such a baby 💔💔

Also I’m doing just well hon, thank you for asking me. <3 I hope you’re feeling well yourself.

Teyvat is protective of their creator no matter what gender they’re specified with;; however, it seems that you favor Nahida more than others— Most likely as if you made her to actually be your related child. Nahida was hesitant and shy at first, but over the time when she thought about it, she couldn’t help but feel so free and blessed with such a humble God mother/father figure like you.

You’re protective, even if it’s the traveller and Paimon… You still warned them to make sure that Nahida stays secured and safe. Everyone in different nations although takes this request far too seriously- that at this point, Nahida feels rather isolated. Though she knew you never meant any harm, how could she ever assume you would? She’s a wise sweet little girl, humble as you even, she honestly could see the connection of being your child. Literally.

But, that of course makes other children jealous… NPC children would most likely have different voice lines when it comes to Nahida too— which is basically in Sumeru city, and, I guess the Archons has to be checked 24/7 all of the sudden? Confused as you are, you weren’t displeased with it, you felt… Happy actually. Happy that people are acknowledging Nahida. (Although they’re fighting over who gets to be Nahida’s other parent)

Alhaitham especially would have some rooms prepared for Nahida, like, y’know, if she’s tired in a middle of nowhere— there’ll always be a house nearby her area, her spot. The followers of you would be cooking food nonstop for the little child, hoping that she’s willing to test their taste. After all, only she knows what you love in a guy/girl ~!

Oh oh, and since you did say you want someone to also protect Nahida during a quest— Nahida will be bawling her eyes out and ugly cry. (Pretty cry actually) People will be freaking out of why the fuck is shE EVEN CRYING— The NPCs will all baby her and, treasure hoarders? They won’t even get the chance to lay a finger on her because of the Archons killing them off. (Not like you know 😻)

Nahida would be an absolute troll however. Yes, she is sweet and always devoted to drop the entire lore to help people out— (For example she dropped the entire shit lore to Aether / Lumine) But she is heavily LOYAL to her mother/father figure.

Imagine Dottore especially trying to talk it out with her since they did sort of have a conversation beforehand. So he thought it’s only fair he becomes her dad, by marrying you right? HAHAHA, wrong. Nahida is truly worried and overprotective of you, despite being just a kid version of her Archon self. She will lie, telling things to the Fatui doctor what you did not like.

And this has gone on for so long, it’s absolutely hilarious. Especially for Sumeru as they see this as an attempt to bring their divine being closer to them.

But the thing is, you’re not that expressive— you’re just existing and trying to live on while babying Nahida who just sobs into your affection. Girlie never got so much, so it was truly a blessing to have herself in your care.

And talking about Sages, just imagine Enjou overall having troubles with trying to get to you. All because of Sages 💀 look, if mans wanna get your forgiveness, better as well protect Nahida from the half monster hybrid looking ass hot man. Enjou is in so much misery… (Cue CPR)

Also, can we just appreciate how caring you are? No, it’s not only for Nahida you’re just caring for— it’s not even the reason she’s so loyal to you. (Well, it is but still) The true reason is, is because you keep saying “Hello” and “Bye” to them everyday, no matter how tiring it might get.

I think Diluc would especially love this since uhm, well, his dad ain’t here y’know y’know. (Or any traumatized character really)

…

Imagine Archon Timmie flying up to the heavens above just to replace Nahida and be your son— (Archon Timmie /srs) But then fails because Nahida is too logical and wise that his brain couldn’t take it anymore either.

Okay I’m stopping there 💀💀💀

Also have a sneak peak of my fanfic because I know some people will assume I’m not working on it 💔

It looks shitty but whatever

#various x reader #various #yandere x reader #sagau genshin #yandere sagau genshin impact #yandere sagau #sagau cult au #genshin impact sagau #sagau brainrot #sagau fluff

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sunshinesteviee · 2 years ago

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Hi Emma! For your Valentines Day Sleepover could you please do a blurb for dad!Eddie using dialogue prompt 11 ("Where is [child's name]?" "I thought you had them!") from list one please? I’m a sucker for dad!Eddie and absolutely adore your writing 🥺

eeek dad!eddie owns my whole entire heart!! this is entirely fluff bc my heart couldn't handle otherwise. wc: 992; mom!reader

“Princess! Where are you?” Eddie called out as he rifled through his daughter’s clothes for some clean pajamas. His question was met with silence, causing him to groan; he’d have to go find her, and he knew she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

As much as Eddie hated to admit it, Maeve took after him in many ways — particularly when it came to causing mischief. Wayne liked to remind Eddie of that any chance he got, always muttering something about ‘a taste of his own medicine’ that always had Eddie rolling his eyes. Still, it was true, especially when it came to bedtime for Maeve recently. You’d had to get creative to get her into bed, usually involving one of you to distract her while the other got everything ready. It usually worked, but sometimes didn’t exactly go as planned.

Tossing the toddler-sized pajamas onto Maeve’s bed, Eddie ventured out of her room to find her, and called for her again, “Maevey!”

Though he had expected to find Maeve curled up in your lap, maybe reading a book with you, he found you sitting by yourself instead. Your head shot up at the sound of your husband’s footsteps entering the room, a smile immediately tugging at your lips as you spoke up, “Hi, handsome. Where’s Maeve? She still getting her pajamas on?”

Eddie stopped in his tracks, confusion creasing his eyebrows, “I thought she was with you?”

“No…” you trailed off, shaking your head quickly. You’d been under the assumption that Maeve was already getting ready for bed with Eddie.

You and Eddie both sighed at the same time, knowing that she was likely hiding in one of the other rooms in your house. Eddie held his hand out to you to pull you off of the couch, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you stood up, “I’ll check our bedroom, you check the kitchen?”

“‘Kay,” you nodded, returning the favor as you pressed a quick peck to his lips.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened — and likely wouldn’t be the last — so Eddie had an idea of where his daughter would be. He jogged back down the hall and pushed open the door to your shared bedroom. The room was dark, but he still called her name loudly, adding a dramatic voice to hopefully make her laugh, “Maevey, are you in here, princess?”

Sure enough, a quiet giggle came from a different room down the hall. It was barely audible, but it was also one of Eddie’s favorite sounds in the world, and he’d know it anywhere. Turning on his heel, he quickly exited his bedroom and headed down the hall to the extra room they had. It wasn’t quite a storage room, nor was it really a playroom for Maeve — it was somewhere in between, sometimes also serving as an office for you, or a place for Eddie to play his guitar. In fact, that was usually what Maeve came in here for; she loved Eddie’s guitar, loved to listen to him play it, and wanted desperately to have a real guitar of her own to be just like her dad.

Pushing the door to the room open quietly, Eddie stuck his head in and found Maeve sitting on the floor, her tiny toy guitar in her lap. He watched her silently for a few moments, a smile slowly growing on his face as she haphazardly plucked at the strings. Maybe it was just his biased opinion as her dad, but Eddie knew she’d go places with music someday if she wanted. His heart was going to burst if he thought about it much longer, so instead, he burst into the room, “Found you, you troublemaker!”

Maeve let out a yelp that quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles as Eddie grabbed at her, tickling her sides even as she tried to squirm away from him, “Daddy! Stop! No tickles!”

“Girls who hide when they’re supposed to be getting their jammies on get tickles!” Eddie replied with a grin, pulling her into his lap.

Between shrieks of laughter, Maeve mumbled out a breathless apology and added, “I jus’ wanted to play my ‘tar!”

Eddie paused his assault of tickles, his heart squeezing in his chest as he maneuvered her to face him, “I heard you playing, baby, you were doin’ so good. Even better than me!” Going shy from the compliments, Maeve pushed her face into Eddie’s shirt, giggling softly. Fingers raking through her long, messy curls, Eddie planted a kiss to her cheek and added, “You can play some more after you get your jammies on, okay?”

“‘Kay,” she nodded easily, scrambling again in an attempt to get out of Eddie’s lap and make her way back to her own room, leaving Eddie struggling to get up to follow.

By the time Eddie made it to her room, you were kneeling on the floor next to your daughter, already helping her change into her pajamas. Another way she was just like Eddie — easily motivated with incentives. Maeve had stopped whatever she was rambling on about as she caught sight of Eddie in the doorway, and your eyes snapped to him, shaking your head slightly with a smile as you tugged Maeve’s shirt into place.

Maeve was giving him a shy smile, one that reminded him so much of you, especially when you’d just started dating. When she didn’t say anything, you gave her a little nudge, “Ask him, lovey.”

“Daddy… you play ‘tar for me? ‘Stead of a book?”

Eddie was sure that his daughter was going to be the death of him, especially if his heart was expanding with every single thing she said. Stepping into the room, Eddie scooped Maeve up into his arms, smacking another sloppy kiss to her forehead, “Let’s do both, yeah? Princess Mae gets one book, and whatever song her heart desires.”

#I LOVEEEEE #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #blurbs #my blurbs #eddie blurbs #vday sleepover

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melis-writes · 2 years ago

Text

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.”

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