#Vega the Fallen Star

[herecomesthatstar]

Meet Vega the Fallen Star, also known as The Glittery One! She is Star shaped girl who teaches about Wishes and helps wishes come true. This is a submittion for the DHMIS OC contest on Instagram!

Vega’s backstory and information are on the last three pictures. It would be absolutely incredible if she was to become a reality!! 💜⭐️

happy June 19th! 🎉

[stoat-party]

Reminder that Nuka Break and Death Shroud are getting new installments sometime soon! If you haven’t watched them, or still need to rewatch them, now is the time.

Nuka Break is a short fanfilm, TV series (about the length and pacing of a movie), and spin-off film set shortly before Fallout: New Vegas. It’s a lot of fun, with a memorable cast and even a few canon characters. It fits really well within the source material while still expanding the lore. The plot is about a vault dweller, escaped slave, and ghoul traveling together while being pursued by everyone in the whole wasteland. At some point it was basically required viewing for the New Vegas fandom, but it seems like it’s fallen out of our collective consciousness. But NOT ON MY WATCH.

Short film: https://youtu.be/Q9UwlAAnlmg?si=Bzhutr-5tSy-j9AO

Season one: https://youtu.be/GcgxXnEVVyM?si=hw0plKWYCVUFI99g

Season two: https://youtu.be/5iOGniJECvw?si=p6iV6bmcnaAn4tND

Fallout: Red Star: https://youtu.be/HPs5nQ5d584?si=bMiX3Whi1hljn1pp

Death Shroud is a radio play written for Alzheimer’s research, with live performances by the actual Fallout 4 voice actors (especially Nick, Nora, Hancock, and Danse). It’s so much fun it’s ridiculous. The plot is… well, all I can say without spoiling too much is that Nick Valentine is investigating a mystery. For three hours you can’t possibly guess what’s coming at you next. It’s criminally underrated.

Death Shroud: https://youtu.be/DJR2YE14-EY?si=W7tgd3B9bgjnHUDp

(If you want to hype any other fan projects in the reblogs, feel absolutely free — The Final Pam, Fallout: Lanius, The Storyteller, etc.)

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 43 – Without a Trace.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 42 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"I can’t help but notice a piece of you changed in Las Vegas." / "I killed men before I was even in my mid twenties."

After weeks of family business and work, you yearn for nothing more than relaxation back at the compound with your family to focus on taking care of yourself and having much needed time away from the chaos of the world. The whirlwind of Corleone family drama has impacted you more than you thought, and things have not yet settled. Aiming to give things time, you're immersed in your own personal life with your children, forgetting the recent business events in Las Vegas, until a curious reminder unearths your true fears against it.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of murder/death, mentions of infidelity.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Readers, we are SO BACK!! 🙏🏻 New Moth to Flame: Part II chapter, hello?! I'm building up new suspense with new characters in a violent slow burn...trust the process! Just when you think you can foreshadow what's going to happen next, I may just throw a twist your way. 🙂‍↕️☝🏻 Shit is about to get real with all the characters, that's all I'll say! 👀

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

'Without a Trace: Star Showgirl and Performer Rita Duvall Missing?’  The title of the first and only news article Luciana Marino ever published that’s gone almost completely unnoticed by any of her readers within the first two weeks of release; criticized by some for being a rather lackluster, scandal-seeking article discussing a rather unknown woman outside of private events hosted by millionaires, mafiosi, and Las Vegas shows.

At the age of thirty-two, Luciana considers herself successful, working as a journalist and small-time photographer for a mafiosi-supported news outlet for the past ten years. The nature of her career is somewhat controlled by mafiosi, neither keeps her nor her colleagues on a tight leash to publish or not publish anything, but does make sure that anything mafia business-related stays out of news articles from her company or is disputed up to lawsuit level escalation for extra cash in everyone’s pocket.

Luciana’s always been fond of mutual arrangements that line her wallet favorably. After all, it’s the fact that Luciana’s father—Gianni Marino—is a small-time button man and chauffeur to Don Tattaglia, that’s been able to keep his daughter in a position within journalism with no chance of dismissal or investigation towards her.

Gianni Marino knew from the beginning that he could easily be killed or replaced, so he took matters into his own hands to secure his family’s future with long-term careers for them to retire on and investments in case anything should happen to him.

Gianna wanted her daughter to pursue education and build a life of her own, free from any mafia influence, more than anything else. This is why she sent her to Columbia University, where Luciana graduated in 1944 with a degree in journalism.

The news outlet Luciana writes for and works at, simply titled “Daily News” is bought off by every mafia family in New York here and there whenever a good press story is needed, but differs from other news outlets in the sense that Daily News has all the exposure, funding and writing about the criminal underground scene which reported on anything to do with the mafia in the United States. This could include general news, scandals, rumors, and more.

Aside from her career, Luciana’s only real, direct connection to the mafia was meeting Lorenzo Ferrari shortly after graduating university, and falling deeply in love with him, which led to a passionate romance abruptly cut off by Lorenzo in 1948 when he fell in love with another woman, your sister in law, Alina, instead.

As a result of her own personal experience and bias, Luciana is banned from writing anything about the Ferrari family and keeps her past relationship with Lorenzo tight-lipped, albeit she’s aware she’s barely over it herself, even after a decade.

It was only three weeks after Luciana published her article on Rita that some numbers began to gradually pick up on it.

Rita’s management and some contacts from her old band had been trying to reach out to her for new contracts and events, but her telephone went unanswered, and surveillance could not note when they last saw Rita enter or leave her apartment. All that could be confirmed was that nobody was in Rita’s apartment due to the lack of uncovered windows.

Nobody knows where Rita Duvall is, and if she’s dead by anyone’s assumptions, there’s no stench of a corpse coming from her apartment, no signs of foul play anywhere else, no witnesses coming forth, and nothing to tell anyone, including no police report of a missing person either.

Despite being in demand within the entertainment industry, nobody truly cares enough about Rita to find her or really worry about her well-being. To everyone who worked with her, she was just a dollar lost that needed to be replaced as soon as possible by someone just as flashy and talented.

Luciana is aware of this too and knows just enough about the sentiment surrounding Rita Duvall’s reputation to bolster her career; nothing coming out of generosity or genuine care.

Luciana didn’t give up or pull her article from the papers because she knew all she’d need to do was be patient and let anticipation slowly build over time.

A missing person's report will surely be filed soon once the police note the attention Luciana’s article is slowly getting, and it’ll be marketing for her to catch onto something so quickly in such detail, even if Rita’s disappearance is to be a cold case from the start.

Knowing that Rita Duvall was involved with the Corleones is everything and more that Luciana needs to know to transform her article into a series of continuing reports.

Luciana wants and needs to investigate this further, pushing the questions: Rita Duvall, popular mob mistress and entertainer, has been missing for over three weeks, but who is she? Why would someone like her disappear? Who last had contact with her? It all starts with the Corleone family... How is Rita Duvall connected to the Corleone family? Has she worked for them before, and how often? How much do they know about her and what are they hiding?

Regardless of how they earn their wealth and whether it’s notoriety or not, Luciana never takes the side of influential, rich families. Her suspicions all point to the Corleone family for now, despite not knowing much personally.

‘There’s definitely more to this than the public is aware.’ Rita lived her life very publicly with her contracts, and it didn’t take Luciana long to find the crash and burn of Rita’s career since 1955 without having to dig too deep into it all.

1955 shows that Rita and her band were immediately blacklisted from the Corleone family and all their social engagements, with no reason publicly provided; Rita only performed for the Corleone family twice before the fact.

‘It looks like the ban occurred the very night of her band’s last performance.’ Luciana thinks to herself, staring at the records in front of her desk. ‘Whoever made the final decision must have done so as soon as the performance finished for the night. Nothing mentions it was cut early or cancelled...’

Luciana frowns. That alone is nothing “scandalous” to mention exactly. Rita’s performance could have just been lackluster or not what the Corleones were looking for.

‘Nobody wants to hear about that.’ Luciana knows she needs something more to go on, especially when her suspicions tie to a potential murder considering Rita’s disappearance.

‘And if the FBI needs to get involved, then so be it.’ Luciana flips through every other written record and contract of Rita available that she was able to get her hands on earlier in the week, but is unable to find any other incident of Rita being banned, canceled, or cut short from engagements and contracts.

Rita’s performed for other powerful and influential families over a dozen times, such as the Barzinis and Tattaglias. Luciana knows Rita definitely had ties to the mob, but only the Corleone family blacklisted her, which makes it even more suspicious to her.

After you blacklisted Rita from all events at your family’s social engagements, it’s easy for Luciana to trace back to when Rita began to lose out on her contracts.

It seems like other mafiosi families don’t have very many parties where they’d need a performer like Rita. All of Rita’s other smaller contracts and public places she was used to performing also have gone downhill, going from dozens in a month to one or two right after the Corleone blacklist.

‘It’s almost like the Corleones blacklisted her career, not just her from performing for them. That would be possible for them to do...with all that power and influence? Hmm, but wait.’ Luciana ponders her thoughts for a moment.

If your family blacklisted Rita’s career, it’d mean Rita would very likely be fully unemployed and be unable to secure even one performance contract.

Rita could still find a handful of scarce contracts, even if it wasn’t enough, but it’s more than apparent to Luciana that her blacklist from the Corleones has definitely damaged Rita’s career permanently.

‘It can’t be that she’s unlikeable or a bad performer—I've seen her track record. She’s good. Whoever made the decision to blacklist her from the Corleones will be the only person who can give me the lead I want. Who would that be?’  Luciana runs names from her mind that she’s seen on the news or heard of. ‘Not Sonny Corleone. Fredo Corleone is deceased, but Tom? Tom Hagen? Hmm, not Corleone. The family lawyer, yes. He could definitely give me a statement.’

Better for Luciana, who can find Tom’s contact information publicly to get a statement from him. This can be the perfect leeway into being able to also interview you and Michael about the blacklist, too.

If Luciana weren’t working in her current position, it’d likely take her weeks, let alone months, to get Tom Hagen’s contact information, but because of the status of the company, the information—although considered very valuable to reach out to a lawyer such as Tom Hagen—is still avaliable to Luciana at her position.

Luciana picks up her telephone and dials the phone number listed for Tom Hagen, noting in the public files that it states this is Tom’s office number for all inquiries related to the Corleone family. There isn’t a single other phone number or piece of contact information for anyone in the Corleone family aside from Tom’s.

The call goes through to Tom’s office successfully, where Tom currently sits, noting down some remarks on a file in front of him as he sips a cup of coffee.

As soon as the telephone rings, Tom sets his coffee down and reaches for the telephone without taking his eyes off his notes.

“Hello, Tom Hagen speaking. Representative and lawyer for the Corleone family. With whom am I speaking?”

Luciana is pleasantly surprised Tom picked up on the second ring, and wastes no time with her intentions. “Hello, Mr. Hagen. My name is Luciana Marino. I’m a journalist and reporter for the Daily News. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?”

“You have my attention, what can I do for you?” Tom agrees.

“I understand you’re the lawyer of the Corleone family and may speak on behalf of Michael and Victoria Corleone. I’m working on an article at the moment about...” Luciana pauses only for a brief moment, forming her lie, “specific performances and social engagements thrown by some of the most prestigious, wealthy families in Nevada, including the Corleones.”

“Yes, go on.”

“Would I be able to set up a time to interview either Michael or Victoria Corleone privately for this article?” Luciana asks, hopeful in her tone.

Tom is quick to answer, “Mr. Corleone doesn’t take interview requests, but I may be able to reach him at his next availability for comments or questions.”

“Could I interview Victoria Corleone, in that case?” Luciana suggests.

“Mrs. Corleone also has very limited availability and only takes requests from personal interest and consideration. I can inform her of your request, but the best I can promise you right now is a short answer or comment for your question and nothing more.”

“I understand, no worries. I can take that. I would really like to hear from her, if possible, and I do understand Mr. Corleone is a very busy man.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tom replies. “What would you like to ask Mrs. Corleone?”

“I would like to ask her why she blacklisted the singer and dancer Rita Duvall from performing at Corleone family events,” Luciana states simply.

Tom pauses for a moment, using his free hand to pull out a scrap piece of paper from his file folders before jotting down Luciana’s question.

“I will inquire with Mrs. Corleone, then reach back out to you soon.”

“Thank you,” a wry smile forms over Luciana’s lips. “Please let me know if she’d be willing to proceed with an interview.  My schedule is very flexible, and I look forward to hearing from her in person whenever she’s available. I wouldn’t take up too much of her time, I just have a few more questions.”

“Have a nice day,” Tom ignores Luciana’s push to interview you in person a second time, hanging up.

In truth, Tom has no idea who Luciana is, who Rita Duvall is, or what’s going on, but he understands well enough that this is a petty and useless question being asked.

‘Who cares?’ Tom thinks to himself, raising his coffee back up to his lips. ‘Performers come and go. Why is this so important, and who is this person?’

Tom knows there must be more to all of this than he’s being let on by Luciana. He isn’t stupid. This Luciana Marino went a long way to find his contact information of all people for what seems to be a silly question and ridiculous request, so regardless, Tom knows to take it up with you, nonetheless.

Tom knows there’s no amount of money in the world that could convince him to take up Luciana’s ridiculous question to Michael for a comment, but he is also aware this is more directed towards you than anyone else.

‘Alright then.’ Tom rubs his temples gingerly, getting up from his office and beginning to make his way over to you and Michael’s estate.

Knowing you’re both home and free of business matters for the day, Tom steps out of the central family estate where he was handling paperwork, admiring the sunny weather beaming down on him outside.

Lake Tahoe glistens in the sun's rays around the compound with a soft breeze flowing in the air.

Tom smiles to himself as he glances to his side for a moment, seeing his kids and dog playing with a football by the docks, protected by a bodyguard.

Tom knows Theresa is in the central estate’s backyard, picking the tomatoes she grew this year with Mama Corleone, and Tom knows today is a personal off day for you and Michael to just spend time with the family.

Tom looks towards Sonny and Sandra’s estate, frowning. He knows Sandra and Sonny are home all day too, and rightfully so after their fallout in front of everyone. It’s awfully quiet surrounding their home, and Tom can’t see or hear their kids around the building.

Either the children must not be home themselves or in tutoring, but Tom just can’t help but feel uncomfortable with the silence.

‘It’s just too much, too soon.’

Tom enters your family estate, which remains unlocked until 5 pm every day for the family to come and go, but afterwards, it's permission only for privacy and relaxation in the evening.

Tom glances around the foyer of your home, hearing the governess’ voice tutoring Niccolo and Verona further down the hallway in the private study.

Tom can’t hear you, nor can Michael, who is in his office, have a private conversation with Al Neri. You, on the other hand, are right there in the living room to Tom’s right; sitting on the plush carpet with little baby Vincent, who crawls around on fluffy lankets around you under your supervision.

Your hair is put up in a loose bun, and you’re dressed today in a comfortable, burgundy shirtwaist dress at home. You sort through a box of photo albums next to you with new photographs to place into them, keeping yourself busy.

A smile crosses Tom’s lips from the sight of his nephew happily babbling, which grabs your attention too, as you’re only half focused on the photographs in your hand.

Tom feels almost bad for interrupting the two of you, but at the same time, he’s become more intrigued as to how you’ll react to Luciana’s question.

“Hello, hello,” Tom knocks on the doorway gently.

You glance back with a welcoming smile as Vincent greets Tom before you can properly say with a “GAH!” which makes Tom chuckle.

“Hi, Tom,” you say with a soft laugh, putting the photographs down. “Looks like you caught us at a good time. It seems like Vincent really wanted to see you.”

“Perfect,” Tom jokes, smiling at you. “Mind if I come in for a quick chat?”

“Of course,” you scoff, gesturing for Tom to come in. “Please don’t even ask, just come in.”

“I won’t be long,” Tom nods, entering.

“Nonsense,” you roll your eyes. “Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“It’s all good, Victoria,” Tom smiles, “I appreciate you and your hospitality.”

“The offer is still there if you want it,” you gently scoop up baby Vincent into your arms. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Uhhhhh,” Tom sits across from you on the couch, folding his hands onto his lap, appearing rather dumbfounded now that he revisits the question again in his head. “Well, I received a phone call from a young woman named Luciana Marino just earlier today. She’s a journalist. Have you heard of her?”

You shake your head, the name completely unfamiliar to you. “No, should I?”

“I don’t think so,” Tom shrugs. “Too many journalists reporting on the same thing out there all the time. She wanted to reach out to you specifically for a comment.”

A brief flash of annoyance crosses your face as you look back at Tom in dismay. If it’s one thing you dislike the most, it’s being in the spotlight for anything outside of a legal trial, which is expected as a prosecutor in high-profile cases.

You don’t like scandals, you don’t like tabloids, and you most certainly don’t like to have your personal life or family business reported in anything, although to some extent it becomes almost impossible to avoid, since you’re married to Michael Corleone of all people.

Still, you don’t want to be a celebrity of any kind and don’t put yourself up on a pedestal where you feel the need to have your opinions plastered in the newspaper to influence people.

You understand you’re the wife of one of the most powerful, influential men in the country as well as the daughter of one, but you avoid unnecessary attention wherever possible, and this is one.

“I think you already know my answer to these kinds of things, Tom.”

“I know,” Tom nods, “but I thought I’d let you know anyway.”

“What was the question she wanted a comment on?” You adjust baby Vincent’s wrinkled onesie.

“Well,” Tom begins, “she wanted to ask why you blacklisted Rita Duvall from performing at the Corleone family-hosted events. That’s uhhh—what she said, verbatim.”

You stare back at Tom, unamused, as Vincent latches onto your arm, babbling quietly. ‘Rita Duvall.’

You forgot about her quite so easily since you let your bodyguard, Ritchie Nobilio, dump her triple-wrapped corpse into a swamp three weeks ago.

You haven’t thought of Rita since you quite literally killed her, and certainly not again until now, which makes it all too close for comfort.

‘Does Tom know or recognize Rita? Does he care? Does he want to know more about her?’ You decide to play it safe, like any lawyer would to another lawyer would.

“Rita Duvall?” You raise a brow, pretending to be confused. “I don’t know her.”

Tom shrugs his shoulders loosely. “I’ve never heard her name until today.”

You sigh, “I’m not sure I do either, Tom. We have a lot of bands and performers come and go. I don’t deal with them or hire them. We must have banned a specific group from performing for our own reasons—whether they simply weren’t up to our taste or inappropriate around the children.”

“Right,” Tom agrees. “I was thinking of the same thing, that’s why I’m confused as to why a journalist is inquiring about this...and this specific person.”

“It must be some experienced performer who is disgruntled after losing a major contract,” you point out. “That’s all I can think of, but this is petty, ridiculous, and not worth my time. No comment,” you shake your head, “I’m not going to entertain this.”

“Of course,” Tom murmurs in understanding, beginning to rise up from his seat. “I assumed as much, but I wanted to run it by you just in case.”

“I appreciate it, Tom,” you give Vincent a soft kiss on his head. “My answer is always going to be ‘no’ to comment on these sorts of things, going forward.”

“Noted,” Tom smiles, knowing he won’t ever come to ask you such things in the future.

Still awaiting word from Tom, Luciana keeps herself busy in her office by continuing her own background search on Rita.

It helps that just about everything on Rita is public, although Luciana thinks to herself that it might just be too public based on the information she’s finding, as if Rita’s never been private about anything in her life.

The men Rita was seen with, whether for escort services or public performances, were mafiosi, every single time. The only exception is Senator Geary—a politician—but Luciana finds that Rita only performed for the Senator at his private parties three times, compared to the dozens and dozens of times she did for the Barzinis and Tattaglias.

The Barzinis, in particular, hired Rita for her lavish, flashy performances at social gatherings held in their private estates, and many photographs show Rita dancing close to Paul Fortuato and Ettore Barzini.

The Tattaglia family, on the other hand, hired Rita for private, personal performances catered to their capos for special nights.

Too much evidence in front of Luciana points that Rita indeed prostituted herself to these men and performed strip dances, proven by a photo of Rita giving Rico Tattaglia a lap dance completely naked, then sitting in the arms of Osvaldo Altobello in the next shot.

Simply put, Luciana now knows Rita was way too involved with numerous mobsters over the years. Luciana’s very well aware that Rita’s chances of being killed by any one of these men or on behalf of their families are astronomically high given the nature of her work, and a hit could’ve been planned on Rita just because she slept with a rival mobster or might have just overheard “too much” at a performance.

‘Still...’ Luciana stares down at the nude photographs of Rita surrounded by mafiosi. ‘The Corleones may have called for a hit, too, pictures with them or not. A blacklist seems like a good enough excuse to do so.’

Just as Luciana raises her pen to jot down another note next to a photo of Rita surrounded by Tattaglia’s buttonmen, her telephone rings.

A momentary thrill rushes through Luciana, expecting Tom Hagen to be on the other end of the line with a hopeful answer for her.

Tom is indeed the one calling, having returned to his study. “Hello, Luciana, this is Tom Hagen. I’m returning your call about your request for a comment from Victoria Corleone.

“Yes,” Luciana grins. “Please, go ahead. What do you have for me?”

“I don’t have anything for you,” Tom states plainly, “Mrs. Corleone has provided no comment, and she has stated that this will be her stance going forward for all related questions.”

Luciana frowns, feeling disappointed that despite having a natural calling for investigations deeper than surface level, unlike her colleagues, who are obsessed with basic scandals, she still can’t reach any one of the Corleones for a simple comment.

“I see. And there’s no changing her mind?” Luciana tries again as a last-ditch effort.

“Unfortunately not,” Tom replies, speaking from experience, knowing you. “I would advise against trying again.”

“Right, sure.” Luciana thinks to herself that Tom may not have even tried to properly get a comment out of you to begin with. “Well, I appreciate your efforts nonetheless, Mr. Hagen. I wish you a good day.”

“Thank you,” Tom promptly hangs up the telephone.

‘If you want something done...’ Luciana sighs deeply, running a hand through her hair. ‘You’ll just have to do it yourself. If Victoria Corleone won’t give me a comment through her family lawyer, then I’ll just be inclined to do it myself in person. I don’t have a chance to get it from her husband one way or another... Just who is Michael Corleone anyway?’

Michael is just as much of a suspicious figure to Luciana as you are, but the amount of information on Michael made public is very little, very vague, and spotless.

Michael Corleone is simply seen as a war hero who attended Dartmouth College, is the youngest Corleone son, and has no criminal record.

Nothing is even remotely mentioned about his killings of police captain McClusky or Sollozzo by design, and the rest of the general information on Michael only details that he owns stocks, hotels, a casino, and other businesses—nothing that everybody doesn’t already know.

There’s no gossip, no news, no rumours, nothing scandalous or even worth mentioning about Michael Corleone. Just a war hero, a prodigy child succeeding Vito Corleone.

But it’s you, Victoria Ferrari Corleone, that Luciana wants to dig deep into. She wants to pick your brain, find out more about you, and bring out any skeletons you’re hiding in your closet after denying her such a simple comment.

After all, it’s public information that you’re a hotshot prosecutor and still have clout in New York despite living and working in Nevada now. With three children and comfortably married to Michael Corleone, you’re set for life in Luciana’s eyes, yet she finds it all the more suspicious that you actively practice law and still insist on working.

“Huh...” Luciana murmurs to herself, reading a clipping from a newspaper reporting on a trial you were involved in three years ago.

The article gives a warm introduction about you, mentioning that you “specialize” in organized crime prosecutions, which raises Luciana’s curiosity.

There’s no legal or solid proof to show that your father, Giuseppe Ferrari, is a mobster—all by design, of course—however, he certainly has the power, men, and money like one.

‘Still. A reputation as a lawyer AND a mob daughter? Interesting. Most people don’t even know that Giuseppe Ferrari has a daughter, do they...’ Luciana certainly knows.

‘Fine,’ Luciana thinks to herself. ‘Refuse my comments, let it all fall through the phone, but I want to talk to you, Victoria Corleone. I want to know what you know about Rita, and your side of the story—plain and simple.

Luciana’s already decided she’s going to go and interview you personally, no matter what it takes or how much it costs. She won’t take “no” for an answer, and certainly not again from Tom. If she can come see you in person, perhaps she can make you an offer that you can’t refuse.

~~~

[Evening hours, Lake Tahoe Compound]

Sitting upon the windstill of Michael’s office with the curtains drawn back, you gaze out at the starry night through the window, resting your chin on the palm of your hand, tucking in your knees.

Across the office, Michael gazes at you—unbeknownst to you—admiring the way the moonlight glistens over your soft, silky skin; how it makes your eyes brighter and leaves you in an ethereal light in front of you. Michael’s attraction to you is never questioned.

He scrunches up his shortened cigarette on the ashtray on the corner of his coffee table, putting it out before slowly beginning to approach you.

“Something’s bothering you, I know it,” Michael speaks in a quiet tone, gazing at you.

“It’s hard to ignore when it’s affecting other people too,” you speak back in a quiet tone, slowly turning your head to face Michael.

Michael nods, knowing you’re referring to the recent, messy fallout with Sonny and Sandra in front of the whole family.

Not everything has gone back to normal since you all returned from Las Vegas, and nobody can offer you reassuring words about how Sandra’s holding up, whether it be with Sonny or by herself. For all you know, Sandra may still be inconsolable, and the mention of Rita Duvall today from a reporter has you all but at ease.

“I understand,” Michael replies, his tone of voice soft and soothing. “Talk to me, darling. I want to know.”

You give Michael a shy smile before a familiar feeling of discomfort returns to you. “It’s like we’re a bit of a shattered family right now, Michael.”

“A shattered family...” Michael repeats. “You haven’t felt quite at ease since we returned from Las Vegas, I know this much, but we have no say when it comes to Sonny and Sandra’s marriage.”

“I know,” you rub up and down your arms. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way, not just with them, but with Fredo too, and then my mother.” You let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “It’s all needlessly too much, but I can handle it. I can. I’ll always be strong for our family, for the children, but when I see everyone else fall apart? It just hurts, and I can’t make sense of it.”

“And you don’t have to,” Michael says, sitting across from you on the windowsill. “It’ll take more time than you think to process this all, and I don’t expect you to do it right now. You gave birth just three months ago, bringing a new addition to our family, and things are different now. There are other stressors in our lives. You have to be good to yourself as well, not just to others. You owe this much to yourself.”

You nod back at Michael slowly, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Although I can’t help but notice a piece of you changed in Las Vegas. Something is off,”  Michael takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Did something happen that I’m not aware of?”

You shake your head, refusing to even begin to get into any of the details regarding what happened there regarding you and Rita. You don’t intend to open your mouth to lie to Michael, so you simply refuse to speak on it.

“I think I just need some time. I need some time with you, with myself, with our children. I want to be able to spend these next few weeks here in my home wth everyone, doing what I need to do and taking care of myself, not anything else.”

“I want that for you as well, and you can have it,” Michael tells you. “You can take all the time you need, Victoria. Nobody will be able to deprive you of that. I trust your bodyguard ensures that you feel safe?”

“Yes,” you nod, remembering Ritchie. “I actually would like to speak to him before I call it a night. He should know how things will be for me in these next few weeks.”

Michael raises the back of your hand to his mouth, leaving a sweet kiss over it as he maintains eye contact with you. “I’ll tell Neri to bring him in.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you sigh in relief, blushing a bit as you watch Michael rise from the windowsill.

Just a glance from Michael towards his ajar office door as Al Neri on alert in a moment, opening the door in full and awaiting further orders.

“Don Corleone.”

“Bring Ritchie Nobilio here,” Michael states.

“Yes, sir.” Al Neri closes the office door, retreating into the compound to find Ritchie.

You stare down at the birch floors of Michael’s office as you hear your husband leave as well, and it’s only a few minutes of silence and solitude until you hear the office door quietly open once more, and Ritchie’s soft footsteps fill the room.

You hardly look up at Ritchie from your nonchalant and glum disposition; Ritchie already knows what to expect from what you want to talk to him about.

Ritchie politely clasps his hands together in front of him and approaches you at a respectful distance. “Mrs. Corleone.”

“Ritchie,” you raise your head up to look at him, pausing for a moment, leaving a minute of uncomfortable silence between you two before you speak to him again. “Promise me that you did as you were told.”

Ritchie knows exactly what you’re referring to—the proper disposal of Rita Duvall’s corpse and destroying all evidence of her murder. “Of course, Mrs. Corleone. Just as we discussed and you instructed, I did. There isn’t a trace in the world that could lead back to what you might be thinking.”

Ritchie doesn’t insinuate or guess to himself that you fear all of this might come back to you, because he knows it’s not something you’d ever be afraid of. What he doesn’t understand is how emotionally distraught you seem to be about the matter before him; he wonders if you regret killing Rita Duvall now.

“Rita Duvall is a nobody, you know that?” Your voice strains as you speak up. “A Vegas showgirl, a prostitute, a performer—whatever. There are a thousand hers, not just in Las Vegas, but all over this country. Am I incorrect?”

“No,” Ritchie shakes his head. “That much is true.”

“So why are people asking about her now that she’s gone?” You lower your tone, locking eyes with Ritchie. “Why does somebody care about a nobody?”

“Who?” Ritchie raises a brow. “Someone is asking about her now?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “A reporter spoke with Tom earlier today, asking if she could get a comment from me about Rita. Tom gave nothing away, as if he knew,” you brush off the thought. “He didn’t give her much to hold onto, but she was insistent—I could tell. I refused to comment. I told him to let her know, but this is too much for comfort.”

“I see,” Ritchie nods. “It’s likely not a coincidence for someone to be asking about her this soon, and a reporter at that.”

“You understand what I’m trying to get at, thank you,” you sigh in relief. “Truthfully, I don’t care. For one purpose or another, someone has to look for Rita eventually, and someone has to find or guess what happened to her body. What my concern is...” You move off he windowsill. “How can anyone think this has to do with me?”

“You’re worried,” Ritchie points out, knowing that this is a bold accusation to make on his end, but he hopes you see his thoughtfulness towards you.

“Not about what you think,” you reply. “I’m not worried about somebody finding out she was murdered, let alone it being done by a Corleone.”

“Right,” Ritchie nods.

“I’m worried about Michael.”

Ritchie purses his lips. “I see. May I ask why? Only because I don’t see Don Corleone as a man to even care about matters like this.”

“I know, and you’re right, he wouldn’t care,” you cross your arms. “He doesn’t care. But he will care that I did it, especially because Rita was tied up with Fredo and Sonny. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Michael cannot know. Not now, anyway,” you mutter. “But all of this reporter nonsense needs to stop. I don’t want to be bothered and hounded with questions. All of this needs to be killed and buried away like she does.”

“You have an image to maintain, Mrs. Corleone.” Ritchie gives you a small smile. “And I’ve never known you to be interested in media reports anyway.”

“I’m a murderer, Ritchie,” you confess, your eyes bleak from emotion. “I killed men before I was even in my mid twenties. I made my bones in this family business as a woman. I did it all without flinching and without second-guessing, then I go and I prosecute people just like me, who commit the same crimes as me in the same way as me for a living. I live a double life. I keep it professional, but at the end of the day, I’m just a common killer.”

“So am I,” Ritchie tells you, unmoved by what would otherwise be a disturbing confession from you to anyone else outside of the family. “We all are. The only people on this compound that are not killers or don’t have blood on their hands one way or another are the children. We are all involved in this bloodshed.”

“You’re right.” You rake a hand through your hair, sighing softly.

“Do you regret killing her?” Ritchie asks you quietly.

“No,” your eyes meet Ritchie’s again. “I’d do it again and again in a heartbeat. I made the decision to kill her to protect our family; to save Sonny and Sandra the pain of dealing with a scandal and a child with Rita, possibly even divorce. I did it to protect our family’s legacy, not for petty quarrels or simply because I didn’t like her. Of course, I would kill again.”

[beefrobeefcal]

Colosseum Capers feat. Din Djarin & Dieter Bravo

Summary: Din is a virgin and Dieter teaches him some things.

Pairing: Dieter x Din x f!reader | Rating: 18+ MDNI | Word Count: 6,787

Content Warnings: couch sex, din is a virgin, dieter teaches din how to make thick in the warm, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in the v, cum touching, jerking off, bruised willy, busted wrist, gary has had it up to here, everyone is consenting gleefully, jerking off to a live show, cum play (ish), talk of cum, weed is smoked, mention of religious trauma, premature ejaculation YEEHAW!

Author's Notes: for my very own november prompt challenge THE GLANDOLORIAN of course being dropped right at the buzzer.

Thanks to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalnymph & @bitchesuntitled for their eyes, minds, thots and love - i would have let my utter defiance take over and not done this without your encouragement. Thanks also to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

You stood behind the ticket desk, supposed to be counting the float and getting ready for the evening’s show but instead you were bored out of your mind and sweating in your polyester toga. Once again, the owners decided to not fix the AC to cut costs, and the humidity plus the sweltering heat was giving you a horrible case of swamp ass and a foul mood.

Colosseum Capers (aka ‘Capers’) was a Medieval Times knock off, started in 1979 by two brothers who had a shitty idea fueled by a night out at a shitty bar. They had sold it to a corporate group in the late 80’s who had developed a mall on the plot next door and had changed hands many times over since. It was some real estate investment trust that was letting it run into the ground now. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills and got you up close and personal with B and C list celebrities, and free concessions, keeping your monthly grocery bill lower than average. That, and if you batted your lashes at Gary, the manager, you could get your gas paid for every now and then. 

There were a lot of perks in this dump, but the one thing that made Capers almost not worth it was the star - Dieter Bravo. He was a washed up 1990’s soap actor who hadn’t actually done anything of note since he showed up to the Emmys drunk, high, or both in 2003, then allegedly passed out backstage and pissed his pants. You have to say allegedly because at the time, Dieter had enough money to have a team that gave enough of a shit to scrub the media, stopping the release of the details. But now? Now he was ‘Marcus Acacius, Gladiator of Rome’ five to seven nights a week in a shitty dinner show theatre two blocks from the Las Vegas strip. No one gave a shit about him except those who recognized him from his days on The Young & The Restless. 

You couldn’t stand him. Despite how far he had fallen, it still wasn’t enough to knock his ego down; he was arrogant and obnoxious, slept with the majority of the female staff - and a few of the male staff, too. He’d tried to bed you once, his gravelly, sleep deprived, booze fueled voice cawing at you to come to his dressing room one evening. You’d rolled your eyes in disgust, never once being fooled by him, declining him just as rudely as he had offered. In response, from then on in, Dieter pretended you either didn’t exist or antagonized you, giving you orders or interfering if someone was speaking to you to let them know you were a ‘celibate bitch’, landing you with the nickname ‘CeeBee’.

The only good thing about Dieter was the one thing his drunk, out-of-shape ass needed to play gladiator - Din. When Dieter couldn’t take to the stage, Din stepped in. He took no credit and played Dieter playing a Gladiator well enough for only die-hard Dieter fans to notice and those seemed to be dwindling in numbers season by season. 

If Din had asked you to his dressing room (if he had one), nothing could have stopped you from going to it. He was everything Dieter was not. He was quiet, polite, sweet, sober, and while he looked like a younger, less bloated version of Dieter, you found him far more handsome and attractive. The only problem was that Din was never anything but polite in the most standoffish way to you and anyone else who he interacted with - no joke pulled a smile on his face, you had never heard him laugh once, and he was insanely private. Beyond his name and his age - which you had to suss out from the badly stored employment records - you knew nothing about him. 

Din Djarin, 36 years old, male was what you knew to be a fact. Great body, patience of a saint, likes plain soda water, potentially hung, gorgeous brown eyes, soft-looking brown hair were based solely on your observational skills. Everything else about him was a mystery. 

“Ceebee!”

You groaned outwardly and rolled your eyes when you heard Gary’s voice. It was too hot and you felt too gross to want to deal with his bullshit. 

“I know you heard me ‘cause I heard that attitude!”

Sucking in a deep breath, you stood up from leaning on the counter and yelled back. “What, Gary?!”

“Bravo. Get him. Need to know if we gotta call Din for tonight.”

“No, Gary, you do it! It’s too hot for me to deal with his bullshi-”

“CeeBee, goddamnit! Now!”

You could hear the final threads of Gary’s triple bypass fraying in his voice. You knew he hated Dieter more than you did and if he had the power, Dieter would have been fired years ago and Din would be the gladiator full time. And you knew that if you were hot, the overweight, balding 67-year-old Gary was feeling it worse, and despite what an aggravating human he could be, he was also the closest thing to a friend you had in this city. Today was not the day to give him a hard time. 

Huffing, you stepped out from behind the ticket counter and stomped down the ramp to the ‘Staff Only’ door, and pushed through. As soon as you opened the door, the acrid smell of weed from a bong hit you and you grimaced. You didn’t want to go any closer to his dressing room, so you called out, not attempting to hide your irritation.

“Bravo! Gary wants to know if you’re-”

“Ceebee! Baby! Come on in - don’t be shy!”, Dieter interrupted in a lazy, rough but loud voice.

“No. Gary wants to know if you’re g-”

“Fuck Gary and get in here. Not gonna pull anything!”, he barked, then sang out, “‘less you wan’ me to...”

You scowled as you heard the smug grin in his voice. Against your better judgement, you let out a harsh huff and stepped into his open doorway. There he was, the bastard, laid back on a couch not even fit for a second hand store, in his green robe and boxers. His face was pulled into a large, stupid smile and his eyes were red and heavy lidded. 

“Hey pretty lady…”

The way he looked at you and spoke made you want to shave your head with a cheese grater, but you’d promised Gary last week that you’d try and be more cordial with Dieter, so you slapped a tight smile on your face and crossed your arms. 

“Bravo. Ga-”

“CeeBee… honey, you look tense.” He patted the couch next to him. “Come on, baby, take a hoot. Chill out.”

“Gary wants to know if he’s gotta call Din in.”

The lazy smile on his face dropped slightly, and the small bit of his eyes you could see seemed to grow darker. Until that moment, the insecurity Dieter had over Din being better suited for this job had never occurred to you, but you could see it clear as day now.  “Fuckin’ Din…”, he growled as he stood up and moved towards you.

Trying to not let him see how intimidated you were as he stood far closer than you thought necessary as he glowered down at you, you held that tight smile and looked him up in the face.

“Tell Gary to call Din so he can watch me-”, he snarls lowly, poking his finger into your collarbone, “-an’ see how this show is ‘sposed to be done.”

After you’d relayed the message to Gary and watched his face go even redder, you went back to the ticket desk and tried to look busy. Gary was going to be in a mood tonight, having to pay both Dieter and Din to be there, and given how hot it was, he already knew that attendees would complain about the lack of AC so admission would be 50% instead of having to issue refunds. It was going to be a long, rough night. 

For the next hour, you handled the small crowd of attendees coming in, then hit a lull, allowing you a moment to pull out your phone and scroll through your socials mindlessly.

“Hey.”

Din’s voice cut through the ambient crowd chatter from the lobby and theatre and you clumsily tucked your phone in your bra and looked up, trying to give him as sweet and soft of a smile you could muster.

“Hey yourself.” You cringed internally at the saccharine, soft tone of your voice, but you couldn’t help but fall into this coquettish nightmare version of yourself when he was around. 

Din swallowed and nodded, eyes darting over you nervously. He cleared his throat and tapped the desk a few times and nodded again.

“Let Gary know I’m here, yeah?”, he murmured, taking one last look at you before heading down the ramp to Dieter’s dressing room.

You watched him walk away, his tight little ass hugged beautifully in his dark, faded jeans, and you let out a hopelessly desperate breath. Din, despite being an enigma to you, had you in a chokehold and he didn’t even know it.

That routine carried on for the next week: Gary would send you to Dieter to see if he needed to call Din; Dieter would make a vague pass at you and when rejected, he would tell you Din needed to come in; Gary would look like he was going to have an aneurysm; Din would come in and shyly say hello. 

Capers was closed on Sundays and this particular Saturday felt like it was dragging. Before Gary could call out and send you to Dieter’s room, you were already at his office door asking if he needed to know if Din was coming in. Opening the ‘Staff Only’ door and being hit in the sinuses with weed haze didn’t have the same impact as it had before and you didn’t bother announcing yourself before you walked into Dieter’s dressing room.

“Din?”, you asked flatly, giving him a bored look. 

He looked up at you, noting your lack of enthusiasm and his interest was piqued. “Awe, CeeBee. Take a seat and a hoot with me, sweetheart.”

If you had been blindfolded and didn’t already know he was sitting in front of you, you wouldn’t have known it was Dieter speaking; his tone was much softer and almost Din-like. For a moment, your guard was dangerously close to coming down and the way he looked at you through the blue haze from his bong was almost too enticing for you to ignore.

But then he coughed hard and let out a fart, making himself laugh. The illusion was broken and a scowl sat on your bored face. 

“Din?” you repeated in a far more firm tone. 

Dieter continued to giggle and cough, obviously ignoring your annoyance and once he was settled he nodded before taking another hit off the bong. He sat upright and blew the smoke into the air, coughing again.

“Yeah, baby… you know the drill. He needs to watch the master work.”

“And you really think that’s you? Seriously?”

It came out before you could stop yourself. God, you must be PMS’ing what with your inability to hold back your words or your facial expressions. 

Dieter stilled, eyeing you warily. You saw the shift. The annoying stoner had evaporated into the smoke in the room and what was now standing from the couch was a considerably angry looking Dieter.

 “What was that?” His voice was solid and low, almost coming out in a dangerous growl. 

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out as he took a few strides and stood above you, glaring down at you.

“I didn’t catch that, CeeBee. You wanna say that again?”

The low and burning timbre of his voice did something to you that you hated more than anything -  it turned you on. You could feel how wet you were getting as his intense puffs of breath from his nose hit you in the face. His brown eyes were dark and narrowed right onto yours and just by shifting his weight he was closer to you, backing you against the wall next to his door. His hand came up beside your head, planting his palm on the wall while the other gripped your chin ever so gently.

His head tilted slightly and his voice was softer, but still held the edge of his temper. “I put up with a lot from you, you know, CeeBee. Don’t think you appreciate what a fuckin’ gentleman I’ve been.”

Despite the position you were in, you couldn’t help but scoff. Dieter shook his head, his grip on your chin becoming a bit firmer.

“I mean it. I’ve been good. You think anyone would hear you scream from down here?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the threat and he smiled.

“There it is.”, he chuckled darkly. “Knew you were a smart girl.” 

He leaned forward, mouth far too close to yours and murmured, “Might not be as in shape as the Virgin Din, but I know how to take you down a few pegs, honey…”

God dammit. Fuck. Whatever he was doing was working and the self loathing you had become well acquainted with in all your morning afters was getting itself ready for another bout. But then your mind stopped, going back to what he said about Din.

“Virgin?”

The smug smirk on Dieter’s face grew into a smile as he leaned back and he purred,  “Yeah, you think that nerd has ever put his dick in anything that wasn’t made of silicone?”

You could feel yourself getting hotter and wetter by the second. Why was Dieter talking about Din like that so hot? And why did his eyes boring into yours as he spoke make you feel like you were being put in your place? Sure, you’d maintained prolonged eye contact with Dieter in a standoff situation more than once. But this? This was different; he had the upper hand and knew it, and was now toying with you.

His hand on your chin moving down to your neck and barely putting any pressure, like he was testing the waters. His eyes followed suit. 

“I can see your pulse…”, he murmured, eyes lidded and fixed on the side of your neck. He brushed his thumb over your pulse point and his eyes snapped back up to yours. He inhaled and in his exhale, he breathed out, “You like this…”

He wet his lips and he had you wound so tightly around his fingers, you could have come from that act alone. Dieter was mesmerizing and his ability to seduce was something you never expected. 

“I caught you watching him, you know.” With that low growl of a declaration, you swear you saw a possessive flash in his eyes, and his grip on your throat tightened slightly. “He wouldn’t know what to do with you. But I do…”

“Bra-Bravo… ple-”

He cut you off with a grin. “You wanna break that vow of celibacy you been clingin’ to?”

You scoffed and bit back, “I have not been celibate!”

Dieter laughed lowly and leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You just fuckin’ everyone but me, huh?” Then pressed another kiss to your cheek. “Whorin’ it up and not letting me have a bite?” He kissed the other cheek. “So mean, baby.”

He ghosted his mouth over yours, and he pulled back as you tried to catch his lips with your own. You let out a soft whimper and he returned a mock-pout to you in response. “Awe, CeeBee. Don’t tell me that all you needed was a firm hand and I coulda fucked you on this couch years ago…”

“Fuck you…” You spat through gritted teeth.

“I’d love to, honey.” The juxtaposition between the softness of his eyes and voice, and the force of his hand pushing between your thighs made your head spin. His large hand cupped your whole crux and his middle finger pressed the cheap, thin polyester fabric of your toga against your thong-clad slit.

Dieter sucked in a breath between his teeth and looked almost pained and he groaned, “Fuck, you’re soaked…”

It was like he broke character at the hint of a sopping wet pussy and the real Dieter came back out for a split second. “I need her, CeeBee… bet she’s aching for me, too.”

His mouth met yours in a hungry, fevered, desperate kiss, his tongue shoving its way past your teeth and against yours. You gripped onto anywhere you could - neck, shoulders, hair - and he grabbed your ass and hauled you up and over to the couch, letting you fall back onto it unceremoniously. Before you could react, he was down on his knees between your open legs, frantically tossing your toga skirt up, covering your head.

“Bravo! What the fu-ooooooh!” Your confusion turned to pleasure as his mouth kissed your heat through your thong with the same fervor he’d kissed your mouth.

He reached under you as he kept his mouth on you, pulling your thong down. He sat up and brought the small clump of damp fabric to his nose and inhaled. 

“I fuckin’ knew it…”, he groaned. “Holdin’ out this sweet of a pussy on me.”

He dove back in.

Unbeknownst to both you and Dieter, Gary got tired of waiting. He’d assumed that you and Dieter were having a blowout argument and that’s why you hadn’t returned yet and he called Din in. Whether Dieter was going on tonight or not, just in case he decided to throw a fit, Din needed to be here.

Twenty-five minutes later, Din walked in the front door and was surprised to see the ticket desk unmanned. He was disappointed; he liked seeing you and seeing that smile and hearing your voice. Even if outwardly he didn’t show it, he had nightly dreams about pulling you apart and making you whimper and whine under him. But he never took the chance; a girl like you probably already knew what a good fuck felt like and Din hadn’t made love to anyone ever. Never even gotten a blowjob, let alone a handjob. What 36 year-old was still a virgin? He knew what kind - him. The loser who grew up in a religious cult, the kid with the only outside influence being kung fu and swashbuckling movies watched in secret in his cousin’s basement. Those were the only taste of the outside world he had and as soon as he turned 18 and escaped, he found a mixed martial arts studio to train him then he found Caper… and then you. It would have all been perfect - if he knew what to do with his dick. 

He sighed and dropped his shoulders. Adjusting his backpack, he wandered down the ramp to the ‘Staff Only’ door and pushed in.

The first thing that hit him was the smell of Dieter’s weed, and before he could feel nauseated at the smell again, he heard… Din furrowed his brows. He knew that sound, but only in his late night fantasies. His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, covering his mouth.

It was you. 

Then he heard Dieter, grunting and groaning, and his heart sank. Just from those sounds alone, he knew Dieter had finally sunk his claws into you and he didn’t have a hope in hell in having you to himself. He swallowed back the dejected huff, about to turn away and leave. But he couldn’t; the chance to at least get to see you all laid out and in ecstasy was too great a temptation, even if he wasn’t the one to do it to you. 

Cautiously, he took a few steps to Dieter’s dressing room door. It was open halfway and he thought if he could just take a peek, just get a glimpse, he would be set for the next six months at least in his nightly self-loving session. 

He crept up to the door, peering around the frame, and almost choked. There you were, naked and on your hands and knees, crying out and gripping the sofa as Dieter had one foot planted on the floor and the other he kneeled on as he pounded into you, his hand digging into the soft flesh of your hips. His mouth went dry and he could feel his jeans getting tighter in the crotchular region, mindlessly rubbing his bulge against the door frame in small motions. 

When Dieter reached one of his thick arms around your waist and brought your back up flush with his front and Din got his first look at your bare breasts, bouncing in time with Dieter’s thrusts, he let out an involuntary groan, inadvertently alerting you and Dieter to his presence.

Your eyes, hazy and heavy lidded, snapped to Din’s face watching through the doorway and Dieter chuckled into your ear before sucking your lobe into his mouth.  His eyes bore into Din’s and Din couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move, he was frozen in place.

Dieter smiled, his teeth holding on to your ear as he grunted and thrusted up into you.

“Din… her cunt’s perfect. Ripe and ready to snatch your v-card, buddy.”

You watched as Din’s hips involuntarily bucked against the door frame and Dieter felt you flutter and clench around him. 

“Mmmm… she wants you, too, my dude.”

You whined as Dieter let you go, shoving you face down on  the couch and pulling out. Din watched with eyes wide as Dieter walked tall and proud towards him, his cock bouncing up against his paunch of a belly. Din stumbled back, his back hitting the wall and Dieter stepped out into the hallway and crowded again Din, caging him between his arms and bringing his face right up to his.

“You wanna taste her?” Dieter rasped, his mouth close enough to Din’s that he could smell your tangy musk on his breath. 

Din’s mouth was agape and eyes wide as Dieter leaned in and kissed him. It was much softer than Din could have ever expected Dieter to be, but he gasped into Dieter’s grin when the older man’s hand palmed the front of Din’s jeans, feeling just how hard his dip into voyeurism had made him.

“Oh you’re ready, aren’t you, buddy…”, Dieter grunted, pulling back slightly to watch as Din’s eyes rolled back as he applied more pressure and Din bucked his hips against his hand. He smiled as he watched the younger man pant and huff and he kissed him again, this time more aggressively. Dieter then pulled Din away from the wall and dragged him into his dressing room, standing behind him while ensuring Din’s eyes were on you. Dieter wrapped his arms around his slight waist and started undoing his jeans as he kissed his neck.

“Now… Ceebee’s ready… got her all primed up for you.”, he purred, then nodded towards you. “Show him.”

You hesitated, unsure if this is not only what you really wanted but also for Din. But then Din bit his lip looking at you in a way that set your body on fire and Dieter gave you a firm glare, wordlessly taking control of the situation. You tentatively laid back and opened your legs, pussy puffy, pink and glistening. Din whimpered and Dieter smiled darkly at you.

“Good girl…” His tone was low and dark and he kissed Din’s neck again, sliding the zipper fly of his jeans down. “You want that? Wanna feel it wrap around your dick, there, bud?”

Din nodded eagerly, a pained, yearning look on his face as his eyes stayed glued to your exposed core. 

“Yeah?”, Dieter breathed out against Din’s neck, lifting his shirt to expose his toned midriff. “I know you’re packin’...”

Din huffed out a whine and closed his eyes, leaning back as Dieter’s hand pushed down his underwear enough that his cock slapped up against his stomach. The top was red and weeping, looking painfully hard. Dieter gently gripped it and you watched as Din’s knees nearly buckled as he let out a loud whine.

“Shhh… I know… new things… overwhelming… Doing so good for me, buddy.”, Dieter cooed softly, his thick arm holding Din up against him while the other gently began to stroke him. “Ceebee, honey… look at him. Fuckin’ hung…”

Your eyes hadn’t left Din’s cock. Even in Dieter’s large hand it looked big, and your cunt ached in need. You sucked in a breath through your nose and your lips parted as you exhaled shakily. 

“She likes you, Din… Look at her. All flushed and needy… look how wet she is…”

Din nodded and whimpered, biting his lip hard as Dieter spoke softly as he stroked him. His head lolled back onto Dieter’s shoulder and he panted out, “I… I wan’her… but I-I don’know wha-”

“Shhhh… Dieter Bravo has you covered, buddy. Bet you you’re gonna wanna marry her after this.”

He nipped his neck and released Din’s cock and put his hands on his hips. Din huffed out, a pained look on his face and Dieter nodded to you.

“Look at her, Din… You wanna feel how warm and wet she is?” Dieter’s voice was low and his eyes were menacingly dark. He nudged Din towards you, his shins and knees hitting the edge of the couch between your open legs.

You looked up at him, lips parted and brows furrowed; he looked perfect and so very overwhelmed. His hair was beginning to stick to his forehead and his small, husky whimpers were making it very hard to not just get him away from Dieter. 

“Din… if you don’t want thi-”

“N-no!”, he choked out, looking down at you. His pupils had taken over his whole eye and his features were pulled in a way that made him look almost demonic. “No… fuck, no I wan-want this- you. I want you.”

You nodded, your breath hitching at his apparent enthusiastic - and slightly unnerving - need. 

“Atta boy, Dinny…”, Dieter praised in a growl. “You wan’her snatch suckin’ you in?”

Din nodded, mouth hung open, panting as his eyes stared at your pussy. Dieter continued to chuckle, gripping Din’s hips as his cocked stayed hard and twitching against his flat stomach. 

“You ever touched the winking eye of god, buddy?” Dieter cooed. Din shook his head slightly, still dumbly staring down at you. Dieter nudged Din again, onto his knees between your legs. “Go on… don’t be shy…”

Din brought a shaky hand to your core, a whisper soft touch of his index finger moved slowly around your hole and then up against your clit, making you twitch and let out a gasping whine. 

“See? She likes that…” Dieter’s eyes flick to you. “Don’t you, CeeBee?”

You nodded and moaned out an ‘uh-huh’. You let out a whimpering yelp as he pushed two fingers into you suddenly, and Dieter’s hand gripped his wrist.

“Ho, ho, ho, buddy! Easy… gotta be gentle with her…”, he tsk’d softly, his brows furrowed and he pulled Din’s hand back gently. 

“S-sorry… I-”

“S’okay, Din… it’s okay…”, you nodded looking up at him. It didn’t hurt, it just surprised you.

Dieter moved his hand up over Din’s and adjusted Din’s thumb over your clit, having him apply just the right amount of pressure in a circular motion. “That’s it… ringin’ the devil’s doorbell…”

Dieter released his hand and Din pushed two fingers back into you slowly, keeping the mobile pressure on your bundle of nerves. Despite the slight jerky motions and the bit of hangnail Din had on one of his fingers, for a first timer, it felt pretty good. Dieter patted Din’s hip and moved around to you, dipping his head down and kissing you. 

“You gonna give him a good time, CeeBee?” The softness in his eyes and the direct way he asked told you that he ironically and weirdly had a great deal of respect for the ritual you were about to take part in, the one involving Din losing his virginity. 

You nodded, huskily replying, “Yeah, Bravo-ooh fuck! Yes… r-right there!” then panting out moans.

Din’s long fingers had found the spot that had evaded so many men in your life. And he hit it over and over, and his thumb, the way his thumb kept the motion on it… 

Dieter got up quickly and moved behind Din, his hands on his shoulders, nodding. “Keep doing that… Yes, yeah, good boy. Yeah… when she makes that sound? You keep doing whatever it is you were doing when she made that sound.”

Din’s breath panted out between his teeth as he bit his lip in time with his fingers in and out of you. Dieter didn’t know where to look: you, knees bent and legs open, whining and arching your back or Din, sweating and hypnotized by your pussy sucking his fingers in. He swallowed hard and put his hands back on Din’s slim waist and almost hoarsely encouraged him as he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Come on, buddy… you got her this close… come on… make her cry… keep - Christ on a cracker - keep going…”

Din’s breath hitched with each inhale and his cock was painfully hard, beading precum on his toned stomach, and you could feel your orgasm slipping with his loss of rhythm. You reached down and gently grabbed his wrist to stop him, looking at his face.

Din was on another level of existence. His eyes were glazed and his bottom lip was wet and reddened from his worrying it between his teeth and his cheeks, neck and the part of his chest you could see were flushed and damp. 

“Buddy…”, Dieter whispered as he pressed soft kisses on his neck. “She wants you, baby…”

Din nodded loosely, his brows furrowing, and the only sound that came from him was a low whine as Dieter’s hands pulled his jeans and underwear down further on his hips. You sat up and tugged his t-shirt up and off his body and there he was. 

“God, I remember when I looked this good…”, Dieter groaned, reaching around and smearing his hand through the precum on Din’s stomach. Din hissed and groaned as Dieter gripped his cock and rolled his foreskin up and over the tip with a gentle twist a few times, making the younger man shudder and whine and lean back against him. 

You watched this severely intimate moment between the two men and you could feel your arousal slick your hole even more than it was. “Din…”, you mewled.

Dieter’s gaze snapped to you and he grinned, his brow flicking. “Hear that, buddy? She’s askin’ for you. You and your big, fuckin’ hog. Wants you to rail her. You think you can?”

“Y-yesgodpleaseyes!”, DIn grunted out, desperation and agony bleeding his words together.

Dieter nodded, a silent, huffed chuckle rippled out of him and over Din’s skin, and you watched the goosebumps raise where it touched. He stopped his movement and held his cock, thumbing the slit gently.  “How you gonna take her, huh? You wanna fuck’er from behind, holdin’ on to her tits? She feels so good like th-”

“I… wanna see… her face.”, he stammered out slack jawed, keeping his dazed eyes on yours.

Wordlessly you took his hand and pulled him down to you, and he responded by kissing you. Given that it was only his second time locking lips with another person ever, you excused how wide he had his mouth and how forcefully his tongue jabbed your teeth. 

You reached between the two of you and wrapped your hand around Din’s aching member and he whined pitifully into your mouth, bucking his hips. Dieter put his hands on his waist and dug his fingers in as he hotly growled into Din’s ear, “So fuckin’ ready, Dinny-boy!”

You notched Din’s cock at your waiting entrance and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, with Dieter hushing him from behind. 

It was then that you heard him - Gary was yelling for you, Dieter or Din as he walked down the ramp towards the ‘Staff Only’ door. Dieter’s head whipped up and at his open dressing room door then back at you, eyes wide with a hesitant grin pulling at one side of his mouth. 

“You two… you keep going… I’ll - “, he stated softly, thumbs pointing at the door, and with that, he got up, threw on his robe. 

It was almost too late when Dieter bounded towards the door and he ended up slamming it behind him just as Gary walked into the hallway. 

“Bravo, I been callin’ for-” “We are meditating.”, Dieter replied, trying to keep his tone as ‘zen’ as possible as he put his palms together and bowed. “We are healing what is fractured.”

Gary stared at him for a beat before narrowing his eyes. “You’re what?” “Meditating. And you are bringing in some real bad energy, there, Gare-bear.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?”, Gary barked back, confusion and nervousness right under the surface.

Dieter smiled, keeping his voice smooth and calm. “Your negative vibes are giving you what we call ‘energy constipation’... so come in, sit on the floor with us and hum your body’s vibration to give yourself a spiritual laxative.”

Gary must have thought that he died and this was his own personal hell. He stared at Dieter for a second too long, trying to find anything to say, but only managed a hoarsely gruff “No.” before he turned and left the hallway. 

Dieter watched him leave and when the ‘Staff only’ door closed, he breathed out a sigh of relief and returned to the room. 

Din had his eyes clenched shut, hissing curses under his breath as you hushed him. Dieter couldn’t ignore the want apparent in your voice. 

“He in yet?”, he asks softly, crawling in behind Din again. He noted you giving him a nodding shrug and he nodded back. “Buddy, come on…”

Dieter gripped Din’s hips and pushed them forward gently enough for his cock to wedge its way into you. You gasped and gripped Din’s shoulders.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod!”, Din whined out as his cock moved into you. He tilted his head back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Din was thick and you were torn between feeling honored that you were the first to feel his girth stretch your pussy and what a shame it was that he wasn’t getting his hog sucked or fucked regularily. As his coarse hairs at the base of his pressed up against your clit, your mind went blank. Sure, you’d had dicks of all sizes throughout your trysts and encounters, but Din was the biggest. Even Dieter, with his extensive experience, couldn’t compare to how big Din was and what it was doing for you… apparently, size did matter.

“Jesus fuckin - Din… honey… you’re huge…”

Dieter’s hands on his hips pulled Din back and then pushed him forward. “Keep this pace…”, he murmured, peering over Din’s shoulder. “Look… look down… Jesus, look…”

Din managed to bring his head down and it was almost too much, seeing your tits rise and fall with each breath while his cock went into you and came out, shining with your arousal. 

“There’s nothing better, Dinny-boy…”, Dieter cooed before kissing his neck. You watched between slitted eyelids as one of his hands came up to Din’s chest, gently tweaking one of his nipples. 

It happened in slow motion: Din’s body jerked and he let out an agonized groan, your eyes widened and you grabbed his arms, and Dieter’s smile dropped and he pulled Din’s hips back.

Din’s cock was already spewing white, pearly cum as it popped up and out of you. His come dribbled out of your pussy and off your mound, lips and the creases where your thighs met your crux, pooling under you. All three of you were breathing heavily, while Din’s brows furrowed above his clenched eyes and you and Dieter exchanged glances.

The quiet of all of your breathing was cut by Dieter scoffing, “Well that was fuckin’ rude.”

You stared at him, completely disgusted by his audacity and snapped, “Bravo, what the fuck??”

Din murmured “I’m sorry.” and you sympathetically rubbed his arm.

“It’s okay… we ca-we can try again?”, you offered softly.

Dieter scoffed again, sounded offended, but you weren’t sure at what. “No! I saw what you did there, Din, and that was NOT the way! You’re cleanin’ up his fuckin’ mess like a gentleman!”

“Dieter - Jesus Christ!”

He roughly grabbed Din around the waist and pulled him back with one arm and his other wrapped under his armpit in a Half Nelson, his hand gripping his hair. His grin was scarily intimidating. “Party’s not over. You’re gonna make her cum, fingers and mouth.”

Din nodded, clearly spooked but fully on board for whatever, and Dieter shoved his face into your pussy and held it there.

If Din was shaky on his first time putting his dick in a pussy, he was a natural born killer with his mouth. He took to it like a fish to water, intuitively going for your clit with tongue then his mouth. You let out a sigh and smiled, feeling like you had to fight your eyes from crossing. 

“Yeah…”, Dieter groaned, letting Din go and getting up. He pushed his weed rolling tray off the coffee table and shoved his pants to his ankles before sitting on the table and gripping his cock in his hands while he had a front row seat to Din eating you out. 

Din had watched enough porn and read enough about how eating pussy was like using your tongue to get the meat from between the bones on a chicken wing that he felt confident enough about it, and your sighs and soft breathy sounds encouraged him to keep going.

He adjusted his face lower, shoving his tongue into you and ground his nose against your bundle of nerves, sending a wave of pleasure over your body. The only thing that could dampen this was - 

“She taste good, buddy?”, Dieter grunted, tugging his cock. His face was red and sweaty and on every downstroke, his fist pushed into his belly.  

“Shut the fuck up, Bravo!”, you hissed, arching your back slightly and grabbed your tits,worrying your nipples between your fingers.

Dieter grinned, grunting, “Tell me to shut up again… I wanna cum on your tits while he tongue fucks you.”

You were about to retort, but Din moved his mouth back up to your clit, and shoved a few fingers into you and began pumping them in and out. You pinched your nipples hard and cried out, screeching his name and Din moaned and whined as your arousal squirted up his arm and on his lower face.

Dieter stood up and took a step towards you but tripped over his pants still around his ankles, falling face first on the floor.

Din sat up, his shoulders rising and falling with the biggest grin on his wet face. “You’re so pretty…”

You thought it was such an oddly innocent thing to say to you, given the things that just transpired, but you smiled at him. You both couldn’t hold back the giggles and Din caged you between his elbows as he leaned down and kissed you. 

As you made out on the couch, Dieter groaned face down on the floor. “I think I broke my dick.”

That night’s show went down as one of the best Din had ever given, while Dieter went to the hospital for a broken wrist and potentially bruised phallus. You were sure Gary knew exactly what had happened in the dressing room, but he said nothing beyond a quick nod and a maybe half smile. 

The doors opened and you looked at the rows of friends and family in rows on either side of the room, then your eyes locked with Din as he stood at the other end of the aisle, next to Dieter. His mouth twitched, showing the emotion he was trying to keep at bay, as you walked towards him. When you finally stood in front of him, he took your hand, and you both faced Dieter.

“Dearly beloved.”, Dieter started with a smile. “You are gathered here to watch me marry these two chucklefucks because I’m the one who brought them together.”

Gary huffed angrily from the front row. “Jesus Christ, Bravo.”

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[vegaly-art]

Vega and Warden (Vulpecula) my beloveds <3. Some of my favourite designs and my all time favourite Redacted couple <3 (Vega and Pet are not as high because Pet is not immortal).

- Vega I have already posted my design for way back, when I did my Redacted rainbow series! So those of you who've seen it know this design well. :) He's like... 240ish cm (about 7ft10) with his horns, and 215cm (7ft) without because size difference with his partners is important to me. His star, Vega, is on the neck, and he tends to wear very seethrough fabrics in styles somewhat mixing modern and old greek fashion, with all the drapery and such. His horn jewellery shows off all his horns (which represent all the knowledge and power he has gained throughout his life), and also holds them together when they heal. Also, his 6 horns represent Seraphim wings, because I see him very much as a 'fallen angel' figure. And his horns are also meant to blend how I think Sadism, Strife, and Fear demon horns look because those are the main emotions he had been surrounded by for so long.

- Vulpecula (It/Its, open to He/Him) takes a lot from Vega. Intentionally. It learned a lot from Vega and tries to imitate him in a few ways, such as in its jewellery and outfit choice. Though it is a little more feminine. Also, it has a necklace that represents Vega's neck marking (which I have irl :3). It lost a piece of its tail and still has impaired mobility from it since it used to be way larger and heavier at the end. Its primary pair of horns is curly and somewhat sharp, akin to a mix of Empathy Daemons (ram horns) mixed with Strife Demons (Horns always point outward), in my headcanon. And its second pair of horns growing in mimic Vega's main set <3. Also, it responds to the nickname 'little fox', which used to be used to degrade it for being small and weak, but now is moreso used by Vega to represent its cunning and smart, even if it is relatively young and naive, as well as its tenacity.

[hooked-on-elvis]

"What do they expect me to do with shit like this?"

In February 1965, Elvis began his next project for MGM studios, Harum Scarum (which was retitled, for no particular reason, Harem Holiday on its release in the UK). This film was something of an anachronism. The progressive changes of the late-fifties' film industry had all but signaled the end of swashbuckling costume pictures. For Elvis to be involved in such a venture as late as 1965 suggests that even less care was now being taken when selecting scripts for consideration. It is considered by critics and fans alike to be Elvis' worst ever film. Loyal fans spoke of walking out of the theater before the end. Such reports were a heavy indication that Elvis was following a disastrous cinematic path. What was conspicuously absent from this mid-sixties' period of intense film-making was the participation of film industry luminaries. Where notable Academy Award-winning writers, producers, co-stars and so on had been employed on previous projects, Elvis was now having to contend with people who were either fresh from television work or who, quite simply, lacked any talent. Colonel Parker's motives in this respect were always patently obvious. He made no apologies for the fact that he was only interested in huge profits. What is inexcusable is the way that Elvis himself agreed to appear in such films, which he must have recognized as being potentially very harmful to his career. He later admitted to having been bored stiff during the making of a number of movies, but the fact remains that he accepted the assignments in the first place. In his defense, people do state that Elvis was signed to a long-term contract and had little control himself. Perhaps this was true to a certain extent. However, when he was quoted as asking "What do they expect me to do with shit like this?"about a script, then it was surely time for him to make a personal stand and change the course of his career.

He is kidnapped during a personal tour of the Middle East. He manages to escape from his captors, but his life is fraught with danger as he attempts to return to the Western world. He encounters the beautiful Princess Shalimar (Mary Ann Mobley), who is disguised as a slave girl, and is helped in his flight by Zacha (Jay Novello), the leader of a strange band of market-place thieves. The greedy Zacha demands payment for each and every form of assistance to Johnny. The reason for Johnny's abduction is that a group known as The Assassins want to use his talents as a karate expert to kill a ruling monarch. They have been made aware of Johnny's skills at a world premiere showing of his latest film, Sands of the Desert, in which he supposedly kills a leopard using karate. The scheming Prince Dragna (Michael Ansara) is in fact responsible for ordering the execution of his brother, King Toranshah (Philip Reed), in a bid to take over the throne himself. The evil Aishah (Fran Jeffries) is also involved in this 'takeover bid'. With the aid of Zacha's many henchmen, Johnny defeats The Assassins and saves the king. Shalimar and Johnny have fallen in love, and they return to the United States with Zacha's motley crew. The film ends with Johnny performing 'Harem Holiday' on stage in Las Vegas. One obvious plan with Harum Scarum was to capitalize on a sport in which Elvis was, in real life, highly proficient. The opening of the story showed the film-within-a-film sequence in which he kills the leopard. One strange point is that, although numerous references were made to 'this skill with his hands' (and other euphemisms), the word 'karate' was never mentioned.

(...) At his press conference in New York on 9 June, 1972, when asked why he was now so available as a public performer, Elvis started his answer by saying "Just as soon as I got out of the movie contracts … " This reply makes it seem that he had been a prisoner within Hollywood and that he was now expressing grateful relief for being released. The sad reality is that Elvis did not, or perhaps could not, make any obvious attempt to alleviate his predicament.

"The Elvis Files: 1965-1968" by Erik Lorentzen.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Including the Lester Family (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

a decent chap (ao3) - calvinahobbes, yikesola

Summary: “The fabled danisnotonfire.” Martyn can’t help a smirk when the poor boy’s eyes flicker quickly away from his at the mention of his Twitter handle. “Welcome. You boys want a nightcap?”

a matched set (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: “Mum,” he says, and his voice sounds like a balloon about to burst from happiness. “Mum, would you do me a favor.”

(a mother's view of the christmas adventure)

a night to remember (ao3) - grievingwarwidow

Summary: roxie, who prefers the label exotic performer over stripper, is a star amongst people who are out when the sun goes down. who better for a close-minded phil who has despised what he labels as lowlifes to suddenly obsess over than Roxie himself?

aka the one where phil gets pathetically hung up on dan, better known as roxie and is desperate to get to know him better.

Begin Again (ao3) - ForeverJustAnEmoKidAtHeart

Summary: Phil’s parents are away and he’s invited some random guy off the internet to come stay with him for a few days. Martyn is worried that his brother is going to get murdered by a stalker fan, so he follows them from the train station to Starbucks.

blanket of stars (ao3) - silentdescant

Summary: “That’s all for now, thank you.”

“I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

The whole script is so routine, Phil thinks his brain would short-circuit if either of them deviated from it. Dan walks away and Phil sinks lower in his seat, sighing into his blue drink.

“When are you gonna ask him out, man?” Martyn asks.

bundle up, baby (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: dnp taking their little kid for the first time to the iom for christmas

there's nothing more exciting than a child's first christmas

familiar perspectives (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: Kath twinkles in Dan’s direction, and he knows she’s been watching his hands move across the puzzle. “Is he, now? Shame you’re stuck with him, then.”

(scenes from the isle, oct ‘21.)

home for christmas (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: kath and dan have a chat on christmas day

if you really loved the first one, you wouldn't have fallen for the second, and other bullshit sentences about love (ao3) - m_katiep

Summary: Bringing back the gaming channel didn't magically fix all the problems in their relationship, but maybe a whole ass tour will. Right? Please? Phil is still madly in love, but Dan is struggling.

Inventory (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: Guncles Dan and Phil dealing with first periods

La Dolce Vita (ao3) - CrushingMagnolias

Summary: Phil plans a surprise engagement during their vegas trip at the Bellagio hotel.

Dan is head over heels, smitten, Phil Trash #1

Leave it to stew (ao3) - chiridotalaevis

Summary: They weren’t, you know, hiding that Dan was here, but perhaps Kath didn’t need to see slightly slobbery faces (don’t judge, Phil is just a very enthusiastic kisser), Dan’s bright red cheeks and Phil’s slightly untucked pants. They just were not exactly Kath presentable at this moment.

make it work (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: dan is on vacation at the bahamas, where he meets phil - someone who's in the same rut as him. they connect and swoon over how compatible they both are but realise they only have a limited amount of time to spare together.

melt your headaches, call it home (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: Even if he tried, Phil couldn't really stop himself.

they grew up so nicely, didn't they? (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Cornelia doesn’t just get a boyfriend when she starts dating Martyn, she gets a whole second family too. Kath and Nigel welcome her with open arms and she becomes a pseudo older sister to Phil.

She is there watching from the sidelines as a boy bolts right into Phil’s heart and sets up camp. She gets to watch as Dan and Phil build careers and an internet community and all the trials and tribulations, as well as the pride and happiness, it brings along.

Uncle Dan (ao3) - Ragopamplina

Summary: Dan is a Lester. He knows it, but still, he enjoys little reminders.

We balance each other out on the seesaw of life (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil had dragged Dan to Isle of Man after his return home from tour. The sea air would do him good (even if it gave him hobbit hair) and he could be surrounded by Phil's family (who were his family too). He hadn’t actively planned to drag him onto a seesaw on a playground but it turned out to be a precious moment all the same.

Weight on my Shoulders (ao3) - ByTheFire

Summary: When Phil starts getting some unexpected gifts from his dad he starts to worry if he knows something he is not ready to share. Thankfully Dan is there to make it all a bit less scary. All Phil can hope is his dad doesn't want to change who he truly is.

We'll Have To Make It On Our Own (ao3) - galacticneighbor, sleepyslag (galacticneighbor)

Summary: Dan is a country omega come to the Royal City to join a new school for unmated omegas alongside Princess Philip and the future Queen Cornelia. But as the two boys grow closer, Phil's parents are pressuring him into a political marriage with an alpha. Can the two omegas find their way together, or will they be forced apart?

You're everything to me (ao3) - okaydoomer

Summary: Martyn joins Dan's Tour as he's responsible for the merchandise.

When they get a moment alone, Dan decides to pluck up the courage to ask Martyn for his opinion on something that is incredibly important to Dan.

[thinkingofausername]

so basically i've fallen into the spencer reid rabbit hole and i've read his fandom wiki page and here are some things which stood out to me:

he graduated high school at 12

he fears his mother's schizophrenia will be passed onto him

he was bullied as a kid (he was tied naked to a goalpost once)

he writes letters to his institutionalized mother every single day

he has eidetic memory (he can memorize an exceeding amount of information in detail but only if acquired visually)

he can read 20 000 words per minute (the average is 200-300)

he's a technophobe and a germaphobe

he has PhDs in math, chemistry and engineering

he doesn't like to be touched by strangers

he failed his gun qualifications

he has nightmares

he was kidnapped

he can do magic tricks really well

he was tortured by a serial killer who forcibly injected him with Dilaudid which resulted in addiction; he died and had to be revived during the torture

he says he works best under intense terror

his father left him when he was young

he was shot in the leg

he suffered intense migraines and hallucinations

he considered relapsing after Prentiss faked her death

he was shot in the neck and while he was in the hospital a man tried killing him by injecting carbenicillin in his iv

he's Morgan's son's godfather

he was nearly transferred to a maximum-security Mexican prison; he was sent to Millburn Correctional Facility instead

he was beaten multiple times while in prison; he was almost killed

he was drugged and made to believe he killed a person

he stabbed himself in the leg and pinned it on an inmate so he would be put in solitary confinement for his own safety

he became violent after prison (he attempted to strangle a pregnant woman who was lying about him being the father)

he was kidnapped by a cult and beaten; he felt peace when he was about to be killed

he was held hostage

he sustained brain injury during an explosion (intracranial bleeding, hallucinations, seizures)

he joined the BAU at 22

he went to the FBI academy but he struggled with anything not book related

he has a BA in philosophy

he has expert knowledge in forensic anthropology

he has an IQ of 187

he's an expert on historical serial killers, statistics, geographic profiling, body language

he went to public school in Las Vegas

he's an avid Star Trek, Star Wars and Doctor Who fan; he likes soap operas

he drinks a lot of coffee

he can't use chopsticks

he won 2 000 in a casino but he let a hooker keep his winnings

he's killed 8 people

he's afraid of the dark; he loves Halloween; he doesn't like the beach

he can play piano really well

he's banned from multiple casinos

he has eye cataract; he can speak Korean; he hates hospitals

he wears mismatched socks

his mother called him Crash because he bumped into things

he was supposed to be bisexual but the production dropped it

[oraeliaa]

Firelight

So this wasn't an official ficlet request but I saw @boxformytrinkets post and fell in love with the idea (even though I'm pretty sure they were saying they wanted to see it in the show, haha)

"I want to see Lucy and Cooper calling it a night, resting in front of a fire where it’s safe. Lucy’s back laid against Cooper’s chest, and Cooper’s arms wrapped around Lucy’s middle. Lucy already dozed off, and Cooper pulled his hat over his eyes. Dogmeat is snoring away, laid out beside Coopers legs."

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

He’d almost lost her today.

They were practically on the doorstep of New Vegas, and the relatively calm peace of California had turned into a mess of Legionnaires, Powder Gangers, and Fiends.

Deadly and insane, the lot of them, and somewhere between gas stations and fist-fights, they’d fallen into, well, this. Into stars overhead, and a fire in front, and the milling sounds of a trader caravan - close enough for protection, far enough that the moment still felt private. 

Fiends had set upon the lot of them, a few hours before, with dogs and guns and pupils like saucers, high off whatever the fuck they’d mixed together in whatever hole they’d crawled out of. They were mad, mad enough to wield knives and explosives and barely maintained guns, the kind of madness you earned through chem use, through hardship and pure anger at the world. 

They’d thought the caravan an easy target. Brahmin were slow, after all, and even the best mercs out there could find themselves overwhelmed in an instant, out here. 

She’d been clipped by a bullet.

More than clipped. 

The sound of her gasp had hit him in the chest, surprise mingling with rage, and his retaliation had been brutal. The one he’d been killing had been wielding a ripper, and whilst it wasn’t his weapon of choice, it had sure felt satisfying to rev the chainsaw blade into the chest of the Fiend who’d given her the injury, the one who’d tried to spit on her as she’d crumpled down, holding her arm in shock.

He went down with ease, skull-helmet falling to the ground at Cooper’s feet, splattered with the blood of its once-alive owner.

No one in the party was a doc, but Cooper had been alive long enough to know what to do. The bullet had gone clean through, and whilst it meant he didn’t have to go looking for the thing in her arm, he knew just from looking at the hole that she needed something stronger than a stimpack. 

They’d given him a discount on the Doctor's Bag, originally. Offered it for free when he gestured to the bodies, when the dog started growling, at his feet. 

It was a merc who stepped in, who pulled the thing out of the trader's hand and passed it into his. 

“It’s the decent thing to do.”

Damn fucking right it was the decent thing to do. The wound was hardly bleeding anymore, but she’d been groggy as he’d gotten the fire lit, needy as he’d sat down.

When he’d gotten comfortable enough to let her get this close, he wasn’t sure. Somewhere between California and Novac they’d gone from that to this. To his arm tucked over her shoulder, to her head on his chest. She’d brought shampoo with her, of all things, and her hair still smelt like flowers, like a tea he’d tasted a lifetime ago, one that just felt like her, now. 

Intoxicating in a way he didn’t want to admit.

He didn’t think he’d ever find this again. 

Not that he even wanted to acknowledge to himself what this was, in truth. 

All he knew was that she snored, just a little, in her sleep. That she talked too much when she was awake. That people flocked towards her - for better and for worse - and that she felt warm and right beneath his arm. 

They were catching up to her dad, and that would be… difficult, but right now he was stuffed full of roasted gecko, his dog was asleep with her head right on his ankle, and a woman he absolutely didn’t deserve felt safe and comfortable enough to sleep deeply against his chest - tucked in as tight as a goddamn puzzle piece.

He threw his empty beer to the side and pulled his hat down over his face, the sounds of the traders melting into absolute nothing as he shut his eyes and enjoyed the rare moment of safety.

[tacticalhimbo]

hi hey!! tagged by @courtana to share all of [my] public playlists (if you have them)!

there's… a lot of them! so bear with this post lmao. i had to redo the links on this because there's a 10 block link limit and uhm.... i have. way more than 10 playlists-

generic playlists

my (now former) go-to jams playlist that just kinda grew stale and needs a revamp

this started as a playlist to listen to while playing f124 (yes… i am a racing game nerd), but it's become my go-to jams playlist

specific vibes

a compilation of all grandson songs that doesn't include concert recordings, the 30 thousand blood // water remixes (ily grandson but god they milked that song; it put them on the charts tho i don't blame them), and includes the newest single brainrot

shit that was constantly playing in my homes (#justdivorcedkidthings) growing up

character playlist hell

things that remind me of dani rojas from far cry 6

things that remind me of mikey from gta 5

things that remind me of tracey from gta 5

things that remind me of trevor from gta 5 and are actually punk instead of mother mother and scissor sisters

things that remind me of trilla from star wars: jedi fallen order

ship vibes for toni x walker (ghost recon: breakpoint)… aka the otp ever

… and not gonna add descriptions to these. they're oc playlists. vibes for the blorbos which are named :}

bell (call of duty)

laverne (gta 5/online)

lyra (clan malkavian)

toni (ghost recon)

bailey (watch dogs)

quinn (titanfall 2)

jovelyn (far cry new dawn)

marion (far cry 5)

scott & sara (mass effect andromeda)

eden (mass effect trilogy)

imani (fallout new vegas)

shepard (fallout 4)

lyrijan (star wars the old republic)

ishza (tes v skyrim)

tomo (fallout 3)

brienne (clan toreador)

vincent (cyberpunk 2077)

virgil (saints row reboot)

i also made oc playlists for friends for christmas so those will go here too mwah <3 i'll tag who the oc belongs to!

alice - @captain-radioactive-mentality

petrus - @ollierachnid

irina - @scarfacemarston

aeris - @theavaricesystem

faustina - @cybilbennettgf (i see you with that name change-)

rayn - @vendettapandav

and uhhhh.. yeah fuck it people i tagged? also tagging you to do this meme if you'd like :}

[scramjettracy]

MARK THEM OFF [x] AND COMPARE! 😘

[ ] beaten a video game

[ ] got a tattoo

[ ] broken a bone

[ ] seen a ghost

[ ] kissed someone I liked 

[ ] been badly sunburnt 

[ ] stayed awake for 24 hours straight 

[ ] been drunk

[ ] dyed my hair

[ ] smoked a cigarette

[ ] fallen in love

[ ] broken the five second food rule 

[ ] rode a motorcycle 

[ ] gone skinny dipping

[ ] gambled

[ ] eaten an entire pizza

[ ] sleepwalked

[ ] fallen asleep in public

[ ] cried in public 

[ ] cheated at family board game night 

Alright then…

MARK THEM OFF [x] AND COMPARE! 😘

[ ] beaten a video game (you aren’t counting flight sims are you… if you were…)

[x] got a tattoo (just a l’il one)

[x] broken a bone (heh one or two yeah)

[ ] seen a ghost (not sure I believe anyone has tbh)

[x] kissed someone I liked (do people kiss people they don’t like?)

[ ] been badly sunburnt (No! Rescue scout rule 12 - always wear sunscreen! I may have got sunstroke a couple a times when I forgot about wearing a hat though…)

[x] stayed awake for 24 hours straight (erm… sure yeah I’ll pretend that’s an unusual thing)

[x] been drunk (what happens on bro night out stays on bro night out)

[x] dyed my hair (tried blue… it went green. Did not re-attempt)

[ ] smoked a cigarette (nope. I am quite fond of my lungs and of not smelling like death)

[?] fallen in love (I don’t really know. Probably not, really? There have been times I wondered… but there’s a long way between love and infatuation)

[x] broken the five second food rule (food is food and we have cleaning robots)

[x] rode a motorcycle (motorcycles go fast and I grew up wanting to be Maverick… what do you think? ALWAYS wear a helmet though, kids. Tom Cruise was just being a bit stupid)

[x] gone skinny dipping

[x] gambled (what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas)

[x] eaten an entire pizza (I don’t understand the question - who eats less than a whole pizza?)

[ ] sleepwalked (nobody ever told me i did)

[ ] fallen asleep in public (i never sleep)

[x] cried in public (I shed the occasional happy tear here and there. When Virgil played concerts, John’s pHD grad… Gordy’s medal… that time Allie sang silent night dressed as a star in the nativity)

[ ] cheated at family board game night (Absolutely not. I occasionally take advantage of loopholes in the rules but never break them, whatever my sore loser siblings might allege)

[deardearestbrandsnews2025]

This sounds like a wild, high-fashion, ultra-stylized fever dream of a project—exactly in line with Tarina Tarantino’s maximalist, punk-baroque aesthetic. The "True Romance Hardcore" Collection would be a fusion of Tarantino’s neo-noir energy, the surreal despair of Requiem for a Dream, and TarinaTarantino’s signature glitter-drenched decadence.

Tarina Tarantino: "True Romance Hardcore" Collection

A Cinematic Fashion Catalog & Concept Campaign

Narrative: A reboot/sequel to True Romance, but with a twisted requiem-style descent into neon-lit oblivion.

Theme: A high-fashion tragedy wrapped in bubblegum glamour and nihilistic grit, where each character’s wardrobe tells the story of their doomed aspirations.

Aesthetic: 90s VHS fuzz meets Y2K cyber-glam, with a winter gothic edge.

Key Characters & Their Lookbooks:

Alabama (Bobby Millie Brown) – A young outlaw in a Tarantino world, wrapped in latex corsetry, bedazzled bomber jackets, and rhinestone-studded cowboy boots.

Clarence (Christian Slater, reprising his role) – The faded dreamer, now in worn-out leather, vintage tees, and casino-stained denim.

Jeffree Star – The neon underworld kingpin, draped in Swarovski-studded furs and razor-sharp metallic suits.

Rose (BLACKPINK) – The femme fatale siren, mixing K-pop chic with old-school Tarantino pulp. Think silk cheongsams with bullet holes.

Rebecca Black as "Harry" (Jared Leto’s role) – A fallen starlet, drowning in shattered disco-ball reflections and ripped couture.

Lana Del Rey as The Girlfriend – Marilyn Monroe lost in a bad trip, swathed in pastel mink coats and white lingerie, always barefoot on cold pavement.

Keke Palmer as The Best Friend – The sharp, street-smart ride-or-die, draped in oversized varsity jackets, gold nameplate jewelry, and leather harnesses.

Miss Piggy as The Mother – A tragicomic diva, trapped in a domestic horror story, wearing a sequin nightgown as she fights her haunted toaster oven.

Cassie as Bambi Prescott (if she was Brittany Murphy in Spun) – A dizzy, frail beauty in threadbare ballerina skirts, smeared eyeliner, and platform boots.

Lane Steele as Rocky – The underdog anti-hero in a distressed biker jacket, with silver chains and dark sunglasses hiding the past.

Setting & Visual Themes

Lake Tahoe’s Frozen Wasteland – A dreamlike nightmare where Miss Piggy wanders the snow in a fur coat and house slippers, her pearls tangled in frost.

Las Vegas’ Flickering Neon Graveyard – Where forgotten souls (and worn-out fashionistas) stumble through casino lobbies in ripped fishnets and smeared lipstick.

An 80s Mall Bathroom – Where friendships are broken over pink razors and glittering heartbreak.

Tagline:

"Love is Hardcore. Dreams are Fragile. Fashion is Forever."

Would you want this as an actual script, a visual concept breakdown, or a fashion campaign storyline?

[heavenlybah]

ok this might be A Bit Complex but-

principality please!

could I have a fallen angel alter? With connections to sheep, stars, Cupid/love, pink, and sheepdogs!!

This is for a fragment 🩷 have a ok day, ok?

~🩰

This was quite fun to make ! I do hope this suits your tastes ! --Mod Ferelith (div/shi/it)

Principality —   Names : Amour . Amorette . Kiupita . Soleil . Stella . Stello . Estrella . Castor . Atlas . Rosa . Rosen Pronouns : lamb/lambs/lambself . luv/luvs/luvself . he/him/himself . hy/hym/hymself . it/its/itself . shi/hir/hirself . kyu/kyute/kyuteself . somno/somnos/somnoself . vega/vegas/vegaself . star/stars/starself  :  any pronouns   Roles : Drowser(link) . Sleep Soother(link)   Signoffs : -🌸🐑 . -🐑💖 .  -💗 . -💘🐑

  Genders : Love Esmogender(link) . Librafeminine . Lovelettgender . Transmasculine   Orientations : Pansexual . Omnigay . Acehaze . Ambiamorous . Sapphillean   Species : Fallen Angel   Source : Brainmade / BAHtive   3 Faceclaims : 

Link 1 — Link 2 — Link 3   Terms : Angelic/Nonhuman . Feminine . Masculine : Any   Age : 5,000 years old ; appears to be early 20s . January 2nd   Aging : Does not physically age , but age does raise once a year   Height : 10’3” / 312.42 cm   Speech : Voice is very quiet and gentle , same accent as the body   Source Connection : N/A   Personality : Amour tends to be very gentle with those around lamb , and particularly sweet to those close to luv .  He’s always willing to make new friends , and loves to welcome new people into hys friend group , especially if one of its friends introduces someone new . Shi is very trusting to kyus friends , and very cuddly with any friends who will allow it .  Somno likes to pet vegas friends like a cat or dog , because star believes it can help them to fall asleep .

[bejeweldskeleton]

WIP Wednesday arbeitest gerade aktiv an einem Oc der an Stories? Teile etwas mit uns darüber? #sharewhatintheqieks #ffmmff #workinprogress #fanfictionde

Sooo, dann komme ich auch zu dieser Frage :D Nur ein paar Mittwoche zu spät, aber naja. Immerhin etwas :D OCs:

(Semi-)aktiv arbeiten tue ich momentan nur an Law für @quinaelfina Good Luck. Da muss auf jeden Fall noch mehr aufs Papier bzw. ins Dokument gebracht werden, auch wenn die Ecken des Konzepts abgesteckt sind. Lustigerweise verarbeite ich bei ihm auch ein bisschen meine immer noch unerfüllte Lust auf Heiligen shizzle, welches ich ja schon bei der Frage nach Wunsch-MMFFs und dem Grishaverse angedeutet habe haha xD Aber Quina hat da einen winzigen passenden Krümel irgendwo om Prolog oder im Word-Dokument fallen lassen und ich habe mich draufgestürzt haha

Stories:

Ich habe so einige Storyideen parat, aber bin mir nicht bei allen sicher, ob das MMFF-Format wirklich die beste Wahl ist lol Allerdings schwanke ich wirklich bei allen zwischen MMFF oder nicht, weshalb ich sie hier einfach aufzählen werde. Es sind alles tatsächlich auch Ideen, die im Prosabereich angesiedelt sind. Idk über die Jahre habe ich mehr und mehr das Gefühl bekommen, dass viele Storyideen, die mir so kommen, gar nicht mehr so stark an ein Fandom gebunden sind oder es sich besser in einer eigenen Welt machen würde, die ich nach meinen eigenen Vorstellungen und narrativen Bedürfnissen gestalten kann. Klar, mehr Arbeit, weil man wirklich alles aus dem Nichts stampfen muss, aber worth it xD

Stage 97:

Los Angeles, 1970er. Eine ehemals legendäre Filmproduktionsgesellschaft, die einst die größten Stars des goldenen Zeitalters Hollywoods hervorgebracht hat, steht seit der Übernahme durch den inkompetenten Socialite-Sohn des alten CEOs kurz vorm Ruin. Abergläubische Leute munkeln, das Studio sei verflucht. Maxine St. John, frisch aus der x-ten Rehab und ehemalige Kinderschauspielerin außer Rand und Band, versucht wieder in Hollywood Fuß zu fassen, diesmal jedoch behind the scenes. Als PA am Ende der Hierarchiekette fängt sie bei [insert name of company] an und entdeckt bald, dass nicht alles mit rechten Dingen zugeht. Spooky stuff passiert. Maxine und eine Handvoll scrappy Filmcrewmitglieder machen sich auf die Suche nach der Wahrheit hinter dem, was das Stage 97 heimsucht :D Macht sich wohl am besten als MMFF und es würde auch mit ein paar vorgegebenen Rollen aufgezogen werden. Aber diese haben eher einen narrativ-funktionalen Hintergrund und werden weniger auf die Persönlichkeit der OCs bezogen sein, also z.B. eher "Hausmeister*in des Filmstudios" statt "Grimdark dude mit dunkler Vergangenheit". Aber ja, historischer Horror mit Hollywood-Glamour. Und gore lol.

Magical Heist (Arbeitstitel)

Las Vegas, irgendwann in der Zukunft. Kennt noch wer The Azkaban Job lol? Magischer Heist in der HP-Welt. Das ist die Neuauflage der Geschichte, aber ohne die HP-Welt, mit einem sinnvolleren Ort und Ziel zum fancy Ausrauben sowie viel weniger vorgegebenen Charakteren. Geblieben sind tatsächlich nur die Winter-Geschwister, da Adams Verhaftung bisher immer noch der Ausgangspunkt und Joans Antrieb dafür sein soll, ja zum Heist zu sagen. Allerdings spielt es jetzt in einer eigenen Welt, die erst vor kurzem Magie entdeckt hat, was natürlich bestehende gesellschaftliche Strukturen neu definiert sowie was es heißt, Macht zu haben. Aber das alles ist bloß der Hintergrund, vor dem fun crime passiert lol ... oder doch nicht? dam dam dam :D

Horizontal Storms/Stormcrawlers

USA als Ganzes, alternative Historie. Das ehrgeizigste und umfassendste Projekt von allen? Damit aber leider auch ein Projekt, das noch viele Lücken hat und nicht ganz weiß, wohin mit sich bzgl. Plot. Der Kern bildet jedoch ein Sci-Fi/Eco-Fantasy/Magical-Realism/Abenteuer Mischmasch?  Irgendwann im späten 20. Jahrhundert tauchen zuerst in den USA, später auch anderswo auf der Welt, Naturphänomene auf, die die Leute ohne bessere Alternative als “Stürme” bezeichnen. Riesig groß, tornado- oder mahlstromartig bilden sie Tunnel, das alles verschlingt, was hineingerät und nicht mehr herausgibt, auch nachdem die Stürme zerbersten. Als ob das Innere der Stürme ein Portal zu einer anderen Dimension wäre, auch wenn die Ein- und Ausgänge eindeutig und regelmäßig in unserer Welt entstehen. Und was macht man angesichts eines grundgefährlichen Naturphänomens, das keiner erklären kann? Natürlich. Man entwickelt einen Extremsport im Untergrund drumherum und schlachtet das über illegale Übertragungskanäle aus lol. Kennt ihr Stormchasing? Das gepaart mit Rallye-Rennfahrten, einer Prise Monster Jam Campiness und Mad Max Bravado und tadaa: Stormracing ist geboren xD  Ziemlich einfache Grundidee: mehrere Rennteams treten gegeneinander an, um zu sehen, wer es als erstes durch so einen Sturmtunnel schafft. Neben den gegnerischen Teams muss man natürlich mit den Stürmen selbst kämpfen - herrscht in den Tunneln ja eine extrem menschenfeindliche Atmosphäre. Tornados und Sandstürme, unvorhersehbares Terrain und die Instabilität der Tunnelwände selbst, alles nicht so einfach. Die Teams bestehen jeweils aus zwei Fahrzeugen, ein Renn- und ein taktischer Wagen, in denen sich Personen verschiedener Rollen befinden, die es alle aus den Tunneln beschaffen müssen. Die Teams haben Stage Names, die meisten tragen Kostüme und Masken, es ist ne große Selbstdarstellung zusammen mit dem Nervenkitzel der immanenten Gefahr.  Und das alles ist nur der Hintergrund für die eigentliche Handlung lol (Und ja ja, auf meinem ff.de-Profil steht noch was zu mysteriösen Sponsoren, Expedition ins Ungewisse und jemand hat Amnesie - aber das gehört alles zu den o.g. Plotbaustellen, also muss es euch noch nicht interessieren xD)

[multifamdomfan]

Mirabel's and Vidal's relationship

Vidal Vega's and Mirabel Madrigal 's relationship is warm, heartfelt, and full of deep emotional connection. They both share a love for family, tradition, and meaningful moments, but they also have enough differences to challenge and complement each other.

Vidal and Mirabel both come from families with high expectations and strong traditions. Vidal’s fear of history repeating itself mirrors Mirabel’s own struggles with feeling left out or burdened by her family’s past. They understand each other’s insecurities and offer support in ways no one else could.

Vidal is a dreamer and sentimental, while Mirabel is optimistic but practical. He plans romantic gestures, and she’s be the type to laugh and tell him, “You don’t have to try so hard—I like you just the way you are.” They have a fun, playful romance with lots of teasing and heartfelt moments.

Vidal is a bit clingy and overprotective, while Mirabel is used to figuring things out on her own. She pushes back at times, but ultimately, she appreciates having someone who truly prioritizes her and makes her feel important.

Mirabel brings out the best in Vidal, helping him loosen up, while Vidal provides the love and devotion she’s always craved.

Both value tradition, home, and the people around them, making them a strong emotional support system for one another.

Mirabel might not want to leave Encanto, but she encourages Vidal to step outside his comfort zone in smaller, personal adventures—like sneaking out at night for a festival or trying something new together.

Mirabel teases Vidal about being a cheesy romantic, but secretly loving it.

Board game nights where she always beats him, and he gets adorably pouty.

Vidal helps Mirabel organize her embroidery supplies, even if he gets tangled in thread.

Slow dances at family gatherings where he holds her close, and she whispers, “You’re such a sap.”

Walking around town together, hand in hand, talking about their dreams.

Vidal and Mirabel have a wholesome, affectionate relationship full of laughter, deep talks, and unconditional support. They’d push each other to grow, with Mirabel helping Vidal take small steps toward adventure and Vidal making Mirabel feel cherished in a way she’s never experienced before.

They have a childhood friends-to-lovers romance that's sweet, nostalgic, and full of deep emotional connection—the kind of relationship built on years of shared memories, unspoken feelings, and slow-burning love.

Vidal and Mirabel grew up together, playing games around the Encanto, riding bikes through the village, and spending hours talking in his parents’ art shop.

Since Mirabel didn’t have a gift, Vidal was one of the few people who never treated her differently. He saw her not for what she lacked, but for who she was—fun, creative, and full of life.

They bonded over family struggles—Mirabel feeling like an outsider in the Madrigal family, and Vidal feeling trapped by his grandparents’ fear of history repeating itself. They became each other’s safe space.

As they grew older, their friendship deepened.

Vidal started feeling overprotective of Mirabel but didn’t realize why it bothers him so much when other guys talk to her.

Mirabel started noticing how Vidal always puts her first, even in small ways—saving the best seat for her at gatherings, carrying extra embroidery thread just in case she needs it.

They started having quiet, meaningful moments together—late-night talks under the stars, brushing hands when they pass art supplies, lingering goodbyes after long walks.

Denial sets in—neither wants to risk their friendship by admitting they’ve fallen for each other.

Vidal was afraid of losing Mirabel. He knows change is inevitable, but his nostalgic heart wanted to hold on to their friendship forever.

Mirabel was scared to take the first step. She’s never had anyone choose her first—what if Vidal didn't’t feel the same?

When a town festival forced them to confront their feelings, Vidal broke, the silence—maybe an unplanned confession, was soft, lingering moment where words aren’t needed.

Vidal painted a portrait of Mirabel without realizing it’s full of love, and she finally saw how he sees her.

Mirabel gave Vidal a hand-embroidered gift that says something deeply personal, making him realize how much she cares.

When the truth cane out, it’s not a dramatic, life-changing revelation. It’s gentle, warm, like coming home.

Even as a couple they're still the best of friends—teasing, playing board games, sneaking out to watch the sunrise.

Vidal remained overprotective, but now Mirabel just laughs, kisses his cheek, and tells him she can take care of herself.

Mirabel brings adventure into Vidal’s life, convincing him to take small risks, step out of his comfort zone, and embrace new possibilities.

Vidal makes Mirabel feel cherished in a way no one else ever has—as someone not just important to her family, but important to him.

[jqmalikhsgib]

stars

five

yn is super excited for tonight! it was the first night she’d been out in awhile to an award show. she’s been laying low for awhile, trying to make sure what her and aaron had was the real thing.

today she’s heading to the amas with her mom as her date. having told her mother she’s pregnant and her and aaron were getting married, her mom took the first flight out to come watch her baby get married to the man she’s fallen for four years ago.

yn asked her mom to be her date to the ama’s soon after the wedding. her and aaron agreeing to have a proper honeymoon after their baby is born.

yn currently wearing a beautiful red gown her mother picked out. she felt really grateful she wasn’t showing just yet. she wasn’t ready to tell the world that she’s pregnant, wanting to at least have her album come out first before spilling all the beans on her life.

“rihanna! rihanna! over here!” yn looks over and waves at the photographers. she’s holding her moms hand as she walks from one place to another to get her photo taken.

yn smiles and poses as her mom moves out the way for her to have her moment. “we love you, ri!”

“i love you all!” yn blows a kiss.

yn holds her hand out to her mom. she takes it as they walk over to do a few interviews.

when they got back to the hotel, yn calls aaron immediately. telling him about how amazing it was to be back out there. he listened to her gush about the fans and how much she adores them. aaron loves hearing her talk about her fandom! they meant so much to her.

“how’s the baby?”

yn runs her hand on her stomach with a smile. she knew it was probably in her head—or even just a food belly—but she swears she feels a little bit of a pudge.

“he’s good! barely got sick.”

“he, huh?”

yn blushes. “i just have a feeling it’s a boy. plus i really like the name river.”

aaron chuckles. “river, huh?”

“river road hotchner.”

aaron hums. it’s a nice name, he’ll admit. “and if they’re a girl?”

“melody rene hotchner?”

“already got names for our little one? we’re ahead of the game!”

“it’s just names ive liked for awhile. do you have any?”

“i always like oliver, wes, matt, and kai for a boy.”

“oliver hotchner? that rolls off the tongue well! little ollie for a nickname. oh, what about elizabeth for a girl?! or oliver and oliva for twins.”

aaron laughs. “twins? honey, let’s get through one baby before we think of two.”

“sorry, i just want thousands of little hotchner babies with you!”

“thousands, huh? a whole lotta practicing.”

yn giggle. “well, it’s totally worth it. got a good partner.”

“yeah?”

yn hums. “the best ive ever had.”

aaron scoffs. “big shoes you put on me, babe.”

“big shoes and big co—”

“woah, getting dirty there? is my baby feeling needy?”

yn was feeling extremely needy. it hadn’t been long since her and aaron had sex, but she could never have enough of him. she wasn’t lying when she said he’s the best she’s ever had. aaron took time to learn her body like no other. he made her toes curl each and every time. he truly cared about her and her pleasure.

“im always needy for you, aar. you know that! please don’t tease?”

aaron laughs. “i love teasing you, baby. gets you all hot and bothered, make you sweat, beg for it.”

yn whines through the phone. “aaron!” she whines.

“what could i do for my baby, hmm? what do you need?”

“i want to come home and get fucked, like that time we went to vegas? remember? fucked me like i was just your play toy, your plaything. remember?”

“mhm, remember it like it was last night. i can do that again, baby? i can fuck you like my dirty little slut, huh? when you get back home i can do whatever filthy little things my wife wants.”

“yeah? god, being called your wife has to be one of the biggest turn ons, ever!”

“yeah? my pretty little wife soaked for me?”

yn runs her hands over her body. she gently grazed her hands over her clothed heat.

“i want you, so bad babe.” yn whispers.

“you’ll have me, babe. you’ll have me as soon as you’re home. i promise babe. i would do whatever for you, you know that? it’s why im gonna tell you we’ll finish this up when you get home, yeah? i know when my wife’s more tired than anything.”

yn grunts. she knew he was right though. you’re exhausted and a bit jet lagged. “i love you, husband. my forever.”

“love you too, my star!”

a/n

clearly i like the name oliver. think it’s beautiful and if i ever have a son his name will be oliver!

if you wanna be added/unadded the taglist don’t hesitate to ask

taglist:

@beata1108