#ensemble stars one shot

[puddii-ng]

the stamen, the pistil, and the evening butterfly ♪

[mxdarling]

[“Stay still, you look so ethereal like this.”]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: your time in the hospital is never dull when your beloved eichi comes to visit you.

ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 564

ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: N/A

ೃ⁀➷: Event: [200 followers event]

ೃ⁀➷: ERA: !!

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[Warnings:] bad oneshot, lowercase, maybe ooc eichi, yandere behavior, hsr dialogue line, eichi speaks in poetry and literature, eichi monologues in his head, reader lacks sleeps (and red blood cells), soft yandere, possibly inaccurate symptoms of sleep deprivation, mentions of reader's skin being more pale than usual but reader's skin is not described, reader has hair, implications of kidnapping, a little angsty.

[GN reader]

EICHI TENSHOUIN has never failed to fulfil his daily visits to your hospital, despite being sick himself and that he really should rest to boost up his health to survive the week. you protested during your first week at the hospital that he should spend his time doing work instead of visiting you, insisting you were doing fine (you were not). no matter how much you spat and lie through your teeth about feeling okay and healthy, your physique tells a different story.

your skin was awfully paler than normal, you doze off more when left awake to your own devices, your daily yawning exposes how tired you are— especially with how daily it happens.

eichi takes a seat beside your hospital bed, patiently waiting for you to open your eyes to see him. your precious sleep shouldn't be disturbed considering how your time in the hospital was much longer than the previous ones. plus, you were overworked, his poor producer, how could he have overlooked your symptoms when it was happening right under his nose.

'how could he ever make it up to you' thought the heir of the tenshouin family. as simply taking care of you isn't enough to suffice what you've gone through and suffered your health for. he has neglected you, ignored you, left you overwhelmed and stressed by duties you shouldn't even care about.

("as much as i admire your hard working nature, producer-san, i wonder if it would be better for you to.. retire as an idol producer. stay in my residence and you would be treated and taken care of suitably. free of stress and pressure, no more are the nights you'll work over time, i promise you in due time, i will take care of everything for you.")

a steady hand of eichi's reaches to a small strain of hair that covered a part of your cheek. fingertips brush against your skin, it's surface had a softness touch to it. it was a texture he wasn't all too familiar with, usually the things he touches give some sort of venom, malice intent towards him and his sickly being. if anyone were to ask eichi what did heaven felt like to him, it be the smooth touch lingering upon his skin. it's like all the troubles him and complexes him fades away until it was nothing more but tiny blurry fragments in his mind.

("a sickly tyrant and a hard-working worker, it's miraculous how much our worlds differ from one another yet somehow we intertwine more often than we could count. is our innumerable encounters result of coincidence— or perhaps the handiwork of fate itself? whatever the unknown answer may be, i'm glad i got to meet you, producer-san.")

"ah.. did i wake you up, producer-san?"

spoken in a low and hushed whisper, one you can't hardly hear if he didn't say it directly to your ear. you attempt to sit up straight only to be hit with wash of fatigue and a bad headache. eichi puts a arm behind your head to help you properly lay your head down on the pillow. with no energy to keep your eyes open, you slowly close them and drift into slumber. ("please, dear, let me nurture you back to health, just like you have for me one to many times.")

"stay still darling, you look so ethereal like this..."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a/n; okay this one shot ended up more soft but i think it was needed considering the other three weren't exactly soft so this is a break from the usual dark yandere lol. also i barely have a clue on eichi's character so i just spent like 1-2 hours reading eichi x reader while watching demon slayer, so very sorry for the long wait ≧ ﹏ ≦! but i do hope you like my new format cause i wasn't satisfied anymore with the old one. also thank you for requesting eichi with dialogue #17, it was actually pretty fun to write despite the difficulty and i can just see eichi saying that exact dialogue so it fit perfectly!]

[twowink]

average subaru inner monologue: (ahhh. no matter what, i'm so glad i can stand on the sparkling stage with my friends…)

average hokuto inner monologue: (i'm a worthless man who left them all behind. i don't deserve to stand on the same stage as them.)

average makoto inner monologue: (i'm a burden holding them all back. i don't deserve to stand on the same stage as them.)

average mao inner monologue: (i'm just a normal guy among geniuses. i don't deserve to stand on the same stage as them.)

average anzu inner monologue: ( 🪰 )

[last-laments]

Choose your life In the beautiful rose garden

[altairs-rambles]

New White Day Campaign???? /j

[azrielslittleslut]

Rhys x F!Reader

Lingerie with Rhys (Drabble)

Warnings: NSFW, mostly teasing, mention of pegging if you squint

Word Count: 741

a/n: i don't know how i feel about this one... hope you guys like it!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

You peeked around the corner of the kitchen wall, your eyes searching the room for your mate. You found him sitting in the chair in front of his brothers, his head bent down over a stack of papers as he discussed only the Mother knows what with them.

Cassian and Azriel were in the chairs closest to the kitchen, their backs to you. You had shielded your scent with your magic, so they didn't know you were there. Even Azriel's nosy shadows would be unable to detect your presence. At least that's what you hoped.

Rhys was lounging in the chair farthest away from where you stood, but he had a perfect view of the kitchen wall where you were.

Perfect. Right where you wanted him.

Rhys had been so busy with High Lord matters recently, and you could see the toll it was taking on him. He never slept or ate, and he barely made the time to make love to you anymore.

You weren't mad at him, of course, but you missed him. You wanted to do something special to take his mind off of his stressors, and you had found the perfect thing while you were shopping earlier today.

You stepped around the wall, just enough to get Rhys's attention. His violet eyes met yours, and he offered you a small, tired smile. He quickly returned his attention to the papers, his mind more than likely making battle plans or creating new trade routes.

Now, that just won't do.

With a smile on your face, you untied the sheer robe around your body, moving it off your shoulders until it hit the ground in a pile of black lace. Beneath it, you wore a new lingerie set of deep purple, one that Rhys hadn't seen before.

The bra had delicate lace cups adorned with crystals that looked like stars. It was completely see-through, and your nipples hardened as they came into contact with the chilly air. The straps were also filled with crystals, sitting perfectly on your shoulders, outlining the collarbones that Rhys loved to mark with hickeys.

The matching panties were also made of purple lace, and it was barely enough material to cover your pussy and ass. Around your stomach, you had tied a purple bow, intending for you to be a present for Rhys to unwrap as a gift for his hard work. You had paired the whole ensemble with a set of shiny black stilettos, the heels lengthening your perfect legs.

You leaned seductively against the wall, arching your back just enough for Rhys to see your ass. Rhys, you said into his mind, your voice a caress. Come to bed.

In a minute, darling. We just need to finish the last few papers. Rhys's mental voice was absolute, giving you no room for argument. But you didn't care. Not when your sleep-and sex-deprived mate was sitting there, the tension in his shoulders so tight you could see it from across the room.

Fine, you murmured. I guess I'll just go enjoy this new lingerie I got by myself.

At that. Rhys's eyes head shot up, his wings twitching as he drank in your body like a glass of water. Darling. You look... fucking amazing.

Now, you could smell the arousal wafting off him, and so could Cass and Az. "Damn, brother," the former grumbled, his nose twitching. "I didn't know paperwork would get you off like that."

Az chuckled. "It's not the paperwork, Cass," he said. "You know that scent blocker doesn't work against my shadows, right?"

Damn that nosy shadowsinger.

"What-" Cassian started, his head turning to look behind him.

Rhys snarled. "If you look behind you, I will rip your fucking head off, Cassian."

Damn baby, you crooned into Rhys's mind. So worked up. Let me make you feel good.

Rhys's jaw twitched, a sign that he was considering the consequences of giving up on the paperwork. He just needed one more thing to persuade him...

I got the dildo we were looking at, you said, already turning around to head back to your bedroom. You know, the one that you said you wanted me to fuck-

You ran as you heard Rhys's chair hit the ground, his feet already carrying him over to you. You laughed as he caught you and winnowed you to the bedroom, ready and willing to see what all you had in store for him tonight.

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @book-obsessed124

@scorpioriesling @olive-main @scarsandallaz

Kinktober tag list: @littlest-w01f @fourthwing4ever

@huff-le-puff-puff-pass @halo-hanging @velarisnightsky444 @whyshouldihaveanam3

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Concert with a Twist

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

Summary: Y/n eagerly anticipates attending a Taylor Swift concert in Vienna with her husband, Toto Wolff. Their plans are disrupted by the concert's cancellation. Toto arranges a surprise for her.

Warnings: non

One shot Masterlist

Don't be shy to ask me for a One Shot I would be happy to write it.

______________________________________________________________

The anticipation was electric. Y/n had been eagerly counting down the days until Taylor Swift’s concert in Vienna. As a long-time fan of the pop star, the concert was a dream come true. Toto Wolff, her husband, had agreed to join her despite not being particularly interested in the pop star himself. His primary goal was to see Y/n happy, and he had been looking forward to their trip to Vienna, which would also serve as a chance to visit his children, Benedict and Rosa, from his first marriage.

Vienna was a special place for Toto. The trip was intended to be a blend of personal and professional—a visit to Vienna’s historic sites, quality time with family, and a glamorous concert experience.

In the days leading up to the concert, Y/n’s excitement was palpable. She spent hours curating the perfect outfit, envisioning herself amidst the crowd, singing along to her favorite songs. She had chosen a stunning ensemble for the evening: a shimmering silver dress that hugged her figure perfectly, complemented by elegant high-heeled sandals. Her accessories included delicate silver jewelry that sparkled under the light, and she planned to carry a chic clutch that completed her sophisticated look.

The dress was a statement piece, reflecting her love for Taylor Swift’s bold and glamorous style. As she laid out her outfit on the bed, she could almost feel the energy of the concert night. She imagined herself dancing and singing along with thousands of other fans, the music filling the air and the lights creating a magical atmosphere.

Two days before their departure from Monaco, disaster struck. The news shattered their excitement. A credible terror plot targeting the concert venue was uncovered. Authorities canceled the event for security reasons. Y/n’s heart sank as she processed the news; the concert she had been dreaming of was suddenly out of reach.

Toto noticed Y/n’s distress and took her hands in his. "I’m so sorry, Y/n. I know how much this meant to you."

Y/n forced a smile, her eyes misty. "I just can’t believe it. I was so looking forward to this."

Toto, seeing her disappointment, felt a pang of guilt. He had agreed to the trip mainly to support her excitement for the concert, but now that it was canceled, he felt a stronger resolve to make their trip memorable. The Vienna visit was important for him as well, but he knew the concert was a significant part for Y/n.

"How about we still make the most of our time in Vienna?" Toto suggested, trying to sound upbeat. "We can focus on visiting Benedict and Rosa, spending time together, and exploring the city. And we’ll find a way to make it special for you."

Y/n looked at him, her curiosity piqued. "What do you have in mind?"

Toto just smiled mysteriously. "You’ll see. Trust me."

The day of what would have been the concert arrived. Y/n and Toto met up with Benedict and Rosa, who were excited to see them. Benedict and Rosa had always seen Y/n as a good friend and mother figure, and their relationship was warm and affectionate.

They decided to make the most of their time together and explore the city. The morning began with a visit to Schönbrunn Palace. The baroque architecture and meticulously landscaped gardens were breathtaking. Y/n tried to immerse herself in the beauty around her, but the thought of the canceled concert lingered in the back of her mind. Toto, Benedict, and Rosa noticed her occasional distraction and made a concerted effort to keep her spirits high.

"Y/n, look at this!" Benedict called out, pointing to an ornate fountain. "Isn’t it amazing? The craftsmanship is incredible."

Y/n smiled and joined him, appreciating his effort to engage her. "It’s beautiful. I’ve always loved the details in these old structures."

Rosa linked arms with Y/n as they strolled through the gardens. "How about we grab some coffee and cake at a local café? Vienna is famous for its coffee houses, and I know just the place."

Y/n nodded, grateful for the distraction. "That sounds lovely, Rosa. I’d like that."

They spent the afternoon at Café Central, enjoying delicious pastries and rich coffee. The atmosphere was lively, with the hum of conversation and the clinking of porcelain. Y/n felt a bit more at ease, the warmth of the café and the company of Toto’s children providing comfort.

As the day turned to evening, they visited the Prater, Vienna’s famous amusement park. The giant Ferris wheel offered stunning views of the city, and the playful environment helped lift Y/n’s mood further. They laughed and joked, Toto’s arm around Y/n’s shoulders as they strolled through the park.

Throughout the day, Y/n did her best to hide her disappointment about the concert. She didn’t want to dampen the family’s spirits, but Toto knew her well enough to see through her facade. He decided it was time to unveil his surprise.

That evening, Y/n decided to wear her concert outfit, determined to make the best of the situation. As she slipped into her shimmering silver dress and fastened her high-heeled sandals, she felt a glimmer of the excitement she had felt before. She styled her hair in loose waves and put on her silver jewelry, adding a touch of glamour to the night.

Toto had been secretive about his plans, and Y/n’s curiosity grew as he led her through the hotel. When they reached the ballroom of the Hotel, Toto opened the door, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat.

The room had been transformed into a cozy, elegant space. Soft lighting and a beautifully set table created a romantic ambiance. But what really caught Y/n’s attention was the grand piano in the corner and the microphone stand beside it. A pianist and singer stood ready, their instruments and setup perfectly arranged.

When the first notes of "Love Story" played, Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. She turned to Toto, her eyes shining. "Toto, what is this?"

Toto smiled, taking her hands. "Since we can’t go to the concert, I brought a bit of the concert to us."

Y/n’s heart swelled with emotion. She was speechless as the singer began to perform heartfelt renditions of Taylor Swift’s hits. The intimate setting and Toto’s thoughtful gesture filled her with overwhelming gratitude and love.

As they sat down to enjoy the music, Y/n couldn’t help but feel a wave of happiness wash over her. She danced with Toto, laughing and singing along to the songs that had been the soundtrack to so many of her moments. The private concert turned into a magical evening, filled with love and joy.

After the performance, Y/n turned to Toto, tears of happiness in her eyes. "This is incredible, Toto. I don’t even know how to thank you."

Toto pulled her close, his voice soft. "Seeing you happy is all the thanks I need."

Y/n, still feeling the magic of the evening, leaned in and kissed him deeply. "You always know how to make everything perfect," she whispered against his lips.

They spent the rest of the night talking, reminiscing, and cherishing their time together. The evening had been a heartfelt gesture that Y/n would remember forever.

As they finally went to bed, Y/n snuggled close to Toto. "Thank you for making this trip so special. I love you."

Toto kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Y/n. And I’ll always do whatever it takes to see you smile."

[apocalyp-tech-a]

Remember in Season 1, Episode 1 Aftermath, Tech says "I am merely stating a theoretical hypothesis based on factual data?" Well, that's what I did, I made a "logical conclusion." From Lama Su coming back when we thought he was dead to the infamous "domicile," it was all factual evidence that was meant to push us in a direction of hoping that Tech would return and that CX-2 could be the way he does it. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. There's an underlying reason that I love Tech not based on just his handsome looks. I don't claim to have an exceptional mind like him and I don't intend to convince anyone that CX-2 was Tech, but I do want to explain how it could be construed through the way that character was presented as well as the possibility of Tech's return in general, that he could have been and none of us were wrong or "losers" to think so.

45 70 Reasons and more well on the way, lol...

General reasons:

*Tech is never seen actually dying.

*Hemlock being untrustworthy source of death certificate.

*The return of many thought to be dead characters in past Star Wars from Darth Maul who was sliced in half to Lama Su - the door closed on him and we thought he was getting shot by troopers only to show up alive later and this happened in The Bad Batch itself.

*CX-2 is shown walking toward the 'light' after dropping off Omega, symbolically toward a future redemption. @astrovoidy

*Height change on starwars.com

*The word 'dead' danced around on official sites and by BB employees

*the similarities to Winter soldier @on-a-quest

*the cryptic tweets that showcased reborn characters like Gandalf

*The official poster of CX-2 shows him in 'good' light. @eriexplosion AND CX-2 is shown looking up and to the side the way the original CF99 members are positioned and facing in their poster as if CX-2 is also a CF99 member

*other people in professional settings like New Rock Stars on youtube thought the same exact thing as well as casual viewers

*the large focus on CX-2, over multiple episodes

*misleading title of last episode "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

*Tech being smart enough to find a solution

*If Season 2 could be compared to Empire Strikes Back, Tech was taken from us the way Han Solo was, but Han Solo was returned so surely Tech would be as well

*no one expected a main ensemble character permadeath

*the fight with Crosshair music had hints of "Plan 99" in it

*Tech’s whole big conversation with Romar was about culture and memory, and he helped Romar restoring a data repository. Between the implication that Tech would have lost his memories and Phee saying, “Tech’s brain was the databank, not mine,” you could easily see that as foreshadowing for Tech getting his memories back. @heyclickadee

*All the little one line reminders and goggles shots up through episode twelve only serve to make the audience want Tech back. They aren’t closure, they’re reminders of his absence. [Tech never being quite mourned.] @heyclickadee

*The goggles are lit, or look like they’re lit, in every scene they’re in except the last one, which sure makes all those earlier shots deliberate. @heyclickadee *CX-2 could have killed all of them at different moments, but chose not to (shooting pilot instead of Hunter for example)

Physical and character similarities:

*the shrimp posture

*the kick in the fight similar to droid kick in S1E1

*the similar hand to hand combat style

*the shooting accuracy- ipsium cave/ plan 99

*the elegant deliberate movement especially of hands and fingers

*the animated head and body when speaking

*the helmet – even has his hairline @jorolle

*the viewfinder similar to Tech's and utilized just as often

*the pouches(!!!)

*the limberness and agility

*the confident capability

*the crouching/getting on one knee - Tech is an infamous croucher!

*the deviant nature – ignoring orders

*the technology know how

*the flying – some say the turn on Teth was a Tech Turn

*the extraness of tool/weapon twirl

*armpad like Tech's datapad @wolveria

*CX-2's ship has similarities to the Marauder @wolveria

*Tech CC-9902 / CX-2 - both end in 2 @wolveria

*We are reminded this season that Tech was especially good at decryption. What do we see CX-2 doing on Phee’s ship? Yeah. @heyclickadee

*Season two went out of its way to establish that Tech has a high pain tolerance, is a good close range fighter (he won a life-or-death fight with a guy when he had that broken femur), quick processing speed, and is an excellent shot. All skills we see CX-2 exhibit. @heyclickadee

The 'British' accent, speech inflection, pronunciation. and vocabulary (this alone is enough to convince anyone...):

'You better get back HERE." - "I know the girl is HERE."

"The fifth IS Omega." - "The girl IS alive."

"Who are you?" - "Who are you?"

"Naveecomputah." - "Neveecomputah."

"DOMICILE." - "DOMICLE."

Cinematic framing similarities:

*the limping

*the coming out of the water @lilacjunimo

*hooking the rappel hook rappelling down was like dangling off the rail car

*the boulder moving

*helmet viewpoint from CX-2 in finale, only BB members ever had that

Conjectural situations of suspicion:

*the beef with Crosshair

*the constant surviving

*the pausing when choking Crosshair

*the pausing to look at Phee

*The implications that Crosshair seems to know something about CX-2 (he wants to get out of dodge when he knows CX-2 is coming), and the intense lingering guilt Crosshair feels—and which is never dealt with! It’s still there through the finale—implying he knows or suspects it’s Tech. @heyclickadee

*“Whatever they did to you, whatever you’ve done, you’re still one of us,” offered by Rex towards the CXs @heyclickadee

*Crosshair’s character arc this season being partly about realizing that anyone can change and that no one is really beyond saving, which would have continued going somewhere if he thought CX-2 was Tech and considered him beyond saving, but then changed his mind and realized he needed to try. Notice that he does not engage CX-2 in 11 like he did in 7, and that this comes after his revelation about giving people a chance in 9. @heyclickadee

*CX-2 is even more Tech like in 11 than he was in 6 and 7. This implies that he could be starting to wake up, and that almost killing Crosshair triggered that. He doesn’t kill anyone except one of his own guys on Pabu (or Phee) even though it would make his job much easier. He even has Hunter and Wrecker in his sights and moves his aim to not shoot them directly. @heyclickadee

*Crosshair has no way to know that the CX’d clones come out different and that their identities are erased unless it happened to someone we know. In fact, there’s not reason for the CX plot to exist unless that horrific thing happens to someone we know. @heyclickadee

*The first episode of the show starts out with Hunter covering for someone who supposedly died in a fall. In fact, there are direct parallels in the lines: “Where’s the Jedi?” “I stunned him when he jumped. He didn’t make it.” vs “Where’s Tech?” “Omega…Tech didn’t make it.” I’m not saying Hunter was covering for Tech; I am saying that is the only place in the script where we see those phrases matched up. @heyclickadee

*Tech being CX-2 would have fit in perfectly with each member of the batch experiencing a traumatic loss (and regaining) of agency that correlated directly to who and how they are as people. @heyclickadee

Foreshadowing lines:

*More machine than man, percentage wise at least.

*Better late than dead.

*See you around, Brown Eyes.

*Tech's not gone.

*The operative's gone rogue.

*Romar saying he's a survivor and Tech's look at him.

*Don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers. @heyclickadee

Abandoned storyline reasons:

*The romance with Phee, surely it wouldn't be abandoned!? 🙄😡

*CX-2's death being anticlimactic

*The finale seeming rushed and incomplete

*Actors saying there were script changes

*CX-2's accent in the finale was not only not like Tech's as it was in previous episodes, it wasn't even a clone accent (wtf was that) signaling a script change

@wolveria made a great analysis here with her Tech-Genda !

@heyclickadee gave a great analysis here and also great evidence, more in comments!

@vivaislenska has a list as well with some of these points!

@eriexplosion has a great analysis here!

Having said that, here are some reasons it may not have been him:

*Too many characters coming back from the dead.

*The way he says 'clones' in Infiltration was more reg accent.

*Tech's line in the cave to Omega which "was a big one to me” in retrospect: "I am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on."

As for the intentions of the writers to either have been forced to change the script, but can't admit it due to NDAs or if they truly meant for CX-2 to be Crosshair's foil which to me was unclear, especially with all of the evidence above, I don't know. At least they could have made CX-2 talk and move like a reg. Making him talk and walk like Tech was kind of cruel on top of a cruel we already experienced in Plan 99. I am not personally attacking the writers, I still love Season 1 and 2 and most of Season 3, but I wish I knew what happened behind the scenes with this and I know I'm not the only one. I think this is the last time I'll personally address Season 3 or the finale unless to support other commentators/creators and for my own fix-it and art and writing. And I look forward to seeing everyone else's works as well and hope no one gives up this beautiful Batch or fandom as I almost did. Canon seems done with him, he belongs to us now. 💜

And if anyone has anything I missed (I'm sure I'll think of more myself), feel free to comment or reblog with that addition or a link to your own post and/or I can edit the OP to include it and tag you. Also, don't feel like you can't make your own post about this subject! But I do hope this maybe helped anyone still dealing with the 'aftermath' like me, to know you're not alone, and you did not read too much into it.

(In retrospect, I can't believe they killed him though, lol. What the kriff were they thinking!?! #too handsome to die #too awesome to die)

[mxdarling]

[“Hurting you is the last thing I’d do, you know that.”]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: keito is a great friend of yours, until he fucking kidnaps you out of jealousy.

ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 1349

ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: link | link

ೃ⁀➷: Event: [200 followers event]

ೃ⁀➷: ERA: !!

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[Warnings:] bad oneshot, maybe ooc keito, yandere behavior, reader is terrified at the end, kidnapping, isolation, possessive behavior, jealousy, reader gets drugged, reader gets blindfolded and tied up, tiny fluff, keito owns an apartment for (il)legal reasons (kidnapping reader), implies keito has a vehicle.

[GN reader]

KEITO HASUMI was a dear friend of yours, one you never expected to befriend due to the intimidating and hard-to-approach bearing he carries around with him. You could vividly remember how you would run in the other direction whenever you saw his moss-colored hair from a distance. Keeping your head down low and hiding in places you think he would never think twice to check, and it worked so well, perfectly even. For months, you flew under his radar unnoticed, and you were satisfied with that. You were okay with just barely avoiding him every second of the day. You wouldn't dare wish to change it; unfortunately for you, it seems he isn't too happy with it.

To him, it has now become a duty—a duty to try and find where you're hiding this time. He knows you're avoiding him, and he knows, at least, most of your current hiding spots, yet you always slip away, just out of his grasp. Like a wild goose, a game of cat and mouse, a play of hide and seek, with him being the hunter and you being the prey. As the former captain of the archery club, he commends you for being a challenging and interesting target. It has been a while since he's tested his expertise with a bow; he's confident he hasn't gotten rusty despite graduating from the club a year or so—but he wishes to confirm this by testing out with a new target, and he has the perfect candidate in mind.

Unexpectedly, it took him a little longer to catch up to you with your game of hide-and-seek with him; to say that he's impressed would be an understatement. Accounting for your slip-up in trying to avoid him, you're determined to not make that mistake again, and he's determined to make the most of that slip-up.

Weeks after your slip-up, keito seems to have gotten better at catching you. He was able to predict, most of the time, which hiding spot you would go to, what time you'd go to your hiding spot, and what route you would choose to go to your hiding spot. If he was feeling rather confident, then he would spot you in the crowd and task you to accompany him before you would even think about going there. If he was feeling sneaky, he would hide in your hiding spot before you arrived, startling you when he announced his presence out of nowhere, sometimes even scaring you before you reached your hideout place.

If this was his way of trying to befriend you, somehow, for some reason, it worked, and it worked well. Suddenly, you've just become friends with the person you wanted to hang out with the least. Even your own peers and friends were shocked and surprised to see the two of you talking casually, whether it be in the hallway or after a meeting. It was an unlikely duo—a pair that almost no one would ever suspect would happen. It doesn't help that he shows very clearly that you're the person about whom he worries the most. It's how he goes out of his way to remind you daily of what your schedule is, fixing any wrinkles in your outfit, what to do, where to go, basic needs, and regular rest. Keiko will always be the first one to ask how you have been doing.

With him always lingering around you, not a lot of people approach you since they'll be victims of his judging gaze for the whole interaction with you. He knows this and has a rather efficient method of getting potential suitors away from confessing to you or forming a closer connection with you. Still, there are some who find ways to talk to you despite the warnings they've been given by keito and other people.

He watches as you converse with this acquaintance of yours, who seems to be really, really testing his patience. Do they really have to put their arm around your shoulder? Do they not know that you could possibly be uncomfortable with that gesture being made towards you? How could a mere acquaintance of yours be this physically close to you already? If he wasn't too focused on being composed, then you would see the subtle twitch in his eye and a vein pop on his face. In coherent sentences, rationally, he's currently experiencing the emotion of jealousy. A term used when you feel unhappy or upset that the person you're interested in is paying attention to someone else.

Emotionally, he feels threatened by the introduction of a third party. It was usually just the two of you, him and you. How does someone like them, who you've only known for a few days, steal your attention from him—someone who you've known for months now? Plus, how effortlessly he was able to talk to you—he couldn't even approach you for weeks. He knows logically. Knowing him, he isn't going to sit idle and watch from the sidelines; no, too many seconds have already been wasted—he'll take care of this pesky little problem of his.

The day of your kidnapping was a clean and smooth process, and since there was no longer a wall distancing the two of you, it was a lot easier to plan than if he were to do this several months ago. All went according to plan; no hiccups or delays were made during the time to get you drugged or the time to drive you to his apartment, though in case you ever woke up due to the drug's effects wearing off, he blindfolded and tied both your hands and arms together. Just as a precaution, he didn't want to knock you out too good by overdosing you; he needs to take care of you; you're too helpless to be left alone.

You are shaking, trembling, and quivering; your heart is pumping so loudly that it's hard to hear anything else other than the irregular beats banging at your ear. You didn't even hear the sound of footsteps walking towards the room you're locked in or the door opening very slowly, revealing the culprit of your kidnapping. He stands near the doorway with no evident remorse or guilt for taking you and sealing your life away in this goddamn claustrophobic closet of his.

You took one glance at keito and looked away with fury and fright, the rage and betrayal knowing this was the work of one of your treasured friends and did this to you of all people; afraid and scared knowing he's in a position to commit anything ranging from merciful to downright cruel acts while you're in a vulnerable state. With haste, you drag your body to the farthest corner you could place yourself in, hugging your knees close to your chest, head down. You wish this was all a dream. Closing the door behind him, he takes another set of footsteps towards you—careful not to cause you any further distress. Kneeling down with one knee, he takes your chin and slowly raises your head to face his.

You look at him with overwhelming emotions, so much so that tiny droplets start to form in your eyes. For a moment, you could see a tiny glint of sadness in his eyes, though you aren't sure if you're just seeing things or if he really is saddened by your expression towards him. As an attempt to comfort you, he gently rubs his thumb on your cheeks while also wiping the tears that threaten to roll down past your chin. Swallowing down a lump in your throat, you plead with your best friend.

"P-please.. don't—don't hurt me." Your throat is starting to hurt, and your plea is as loud as silence. Due to his close proximity, he could hear every word you say. In response to your pleas, he cups your cheeks in the palms of his hands and looks at you with his eyes that seem to have softened after seeing your hurt expression.

“Hurting you is the last thing I’d do; you know that.”

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a/n; um-, i come back from the dead, hellooo. so idk jackshit about keito LOLL god how do people characterized keito bhdhd I WAS STRUGGLING BRO, like fr i'm so scared to mischaracterized characters especially if it's people's fav😭😭 keito stans i hope i did him the justice he deserves!! ALSO PACING MIGHT SUCK?? anywayss, thank you anon for requesting keito with dialogue #19! i haven't visited the enstars community in months LMAOO so i might be a little rusty in my writing about them whoops. also last 2023 work of mine crazyyy bro.]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

tapis rouge groovies + new rhythmic/twistune ✨

***Spoilers below the cut!!***

Ooooh!! As usual, Vil is striking a model-esque pose and showing off not only his own looks, but the best aspects of the ensemble he’s wearing. (If his outfit looks different than how you remembered, it's because Vil gets new sleeves and a cape added on in part 4:)

I like how the lights behind him and on his face are so bright, yet the shot is framed darkly since we’re looking from his shadowed side. It makes Vil look so mysterious!!

He’s holding up a black piece of cloth that seems to glitter; I believe this is “Black of Night”, the signature color of the high fashion house, Luxe, that prepared his and the other NRC boys’ customized outfits. (The name of the color is a reference to an ingredient in the potion the Evil Queen makes to turn into an old lady.) It’s iconic, and only Luxe knows the secrets behind achieving the color of this dye. Many celebrities wear certain brands on the red carpet as free advertisement for the brands they wear, so this makes sense for Vil to be doing as well.

JAMIL 😳 I feel like both he and Azul are helped out a lot by moving in their outfits; the in-game models are a little too stiff-looking to fully convey the elegance of these particular looks. Jamil’s braids are so pretty here, they flow in the wind with such grace!! His expression is also nice, he’s giving the camera a cheeky little smirk from the side…

The shot’s composition is pretty interesting too! Jamil sort of has his arms spread out and his back revealed, and Vil, in front of him, is blocked out by an onlooker/reporter’s elbow. It gives off the impression of Jamil both showing off his coat while also playing bodyguard to Vil. Jamil is a trained bodyguard and can be protective, so… very fitting! Even moreso since Jamil was the card paired with Vil on the limited banner.

Another outfit helped by movement!! You can see how the tailcoats trail behind him and how his jacket’s wide sleeves actually pull/bunch back to allow the green sleeves of his undershirt come out. The light being so prominent on him also highlights his golden frames very well; it’s usually hard to spot small details like this from the model itself so I’m glad we can better appreciate it here!

I love how Azul is soaking up the attention and making the most of it (as opposed to Jamil, who seems to be playing it cool and serious). Smiling and winking for the crowd… Azul stans eating good www He’s even in his usual “poor unfortunate soul, please allow me to assist you” pose 😂 Reeeeeally trying to paint himself in rbe most flattering way possible, eh??

We can see Vil’s head and Jamil’s pants + shoes here. Vil’s the SSR and the star of the show so of course he won’t be left out! Jamil is the other card on the banner that goes with Vil. You can tell it’s Jamil because of the long coat and baggy pants; his shoes are white but appear darker in this illustration probably because of the shadow over them. Ace is not high enough in rarity to cameo in other Groovies/j

Note: Ace is the R card, so his illustration does not change significantly. A shame, really. I like his look the best in this batch 😔 It would have been fun to see what an interpretation on an Ace Groovy would have been!

There is a second rhythmic/twistune that features Vil and co. strutting down the red carpet! There are many cute details in it, such as Vil interacting with his fans by taking selfies with them, giving his signature, and speaking with a reporter.

Jamil and Azul play their parts as "huntsmen" to the Fairest Queen by bringing Vil boxes akin to the one that was meant to contain Snow White's heart.

When Jamil presents Vil with the first box, Vil pulls out his poison apple luxury bag. Then a fog of green covers the screen and when it fades away, Vil is in his new sleeves and cape combo.

Here he is, posing glamorously for the camera! The others do their best to show him off too. (fhbalifiyabifeab Azul is really doing his best to present Vil...)

At the very end, Azul and Ace step up to help Vil with final makeup touch-ups. Jamil seems to spritz him with some perfume too! Then Vil finally ascends to his rightful place up high!! Such a triumphant ending for a super fun rhythmic 🥺

[monomyth-scribbles]

A Walk Would Be Nice

Zhongli × Female Reader. One Shot. Zhongli proposes that you take him on a date, but he clearly has other things in mind. Zhongli is in his chunky dragon form (inspired by my obsession with his exuvia plushie). Mostly fluff and humour, with just a hint of implied smut.

You’re nice and relaxed on the couch when you feel a soft kiss pressed against your cheek. A familiar, deep voice rumbles into your ear. “Welcome home, darling. Did you have a good day at work?” 

You turn to look into your Zhongli’s warm, amber eyes. “I did, actually. How was your day?” You return his kiss with a quick peck to his nose.

“Would’ve been better with you,” Zhongli chuckles, smooth-tongued as always. “Director Hu was a… handful, as always, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Maybe we should go on a date? Lift your spirits a bit?” You ask, taking Zhongli’s gloved hand in your own and giving it a firm squeeze. When you lift his knuckles to your lips, your heart flutters as your husband’s eyes crinkle into a smile.

“A walk would be nice,” he concedes. “Would you like to take me on a walk, darling?”

“Of course, my love. Give me five minutes to get changed, okay? Where do you want to go?”

“The stars over the harbour were exceptionally beautiful on my way home. We should see them together.” 

“Alright! Sounds like a plan. Be right back!” You make a beeline for your shared bedroom, excited for your date with Zhongli. Having been bogged down by countless commissions over the past weeks, it seems as if you’ve barely spent any time with him recently. And although your husband is an infinitely patient and gracious man, distance has only sharpened the pangs of yearning in your heart. You know that Zhongli feels the same.

You pick out an outfit that Zhongli bought for you on your third anniversary. His taste was flawless as always, the blouse and skirt ensemble effortlessly chic. He’d made sure that the outfit was made with lightweight silk in your favourite colour. But because this was Zhongli you were speaking of, the clothing was also delicately embroidered with intricate patterns, the hand-stitched threads imitating the geometric designs favoured by the former Lord of Geo. You twirl in your outfit, feeling exceptionally beautiful in your finery, giddy with excitement as you anticipate Zhongli’s approval and appreciation.

“Honey I’m ready!” You burst out of your bedroom and give another twirl. “Shall we—” You scan the room, seeking out your husband. “Zhongli…?”

A small head crowned with a magnificent mane and vivid yellow horns peeks out. You watch in stunned silence as a perfectly lap-sized dragon drapes itself along the back of the couch. “You look gorgeous, darling. Lovelier than usual, were that even possible.”

Your eyes follow the dragon’s tail as it lazily sways back and forth. “Zhongli, I thought we were going for a walk,” You manage. Finally coming to your senses, you primly seat yourself and see Zhongli’s usual robes neatly folded beside you.

Your husband’s deep voice sounds strange coming from a tiny dragon’s body. “To be precise, darling, I did ask you to take me for a walk.”

“I’m not putting you on a leash,” you interject hastily. Unhelpful memories suddenly surface in your mind and your face feels exceptionally warm. “Uh… Not today, anyway. And certainly not in public.”

“We can save the leash for another time,” Zhongli moves from his perch, curling up in your lap. “I was thinking you could carry me around the Harbour. What say you, hm?”

“What’s gotten into you today?” You huff, although you watch your own hand start to stroke his sinuous body, his scales cool to the touch. It feels… nice, you think. 

“Well,” Zhongli chuckles, pushing his head into your hand, eagerly seeking out your touch. His tail coils around your arm, the fluffy end reaching up to affectionately tickle your cheek. “When a husband misses his wife, he is allowed to make… ah, bolder requests of her, is he not?” 

“Not this bold,” you mutter. Your hand doesn’t stop its path up and down his back, carefully avoiding the amber scutes in its path. Inwardly, you curse your husband’s intimate knowledge of your weaknesses. Zhongli knows all too well that you find his miniature dragon form absolutely adorable. He knows that there is nothing you would deny him when he turns himself into a chubby noodle. The God of Contracts knows how to press his advantage, and he was never above playing a little dirty.

Zhongli rests one paw on top of your other hand, the slightly rough texture of his paw pad causing pleasant friction against your skin as he strokes you. “Nothing would make me happier than to spend time with you like this.”

“Alright… fine. Fine.” You narrow your eyes at Zhongli as he stands on his hind legs, paws reaching out for you as you move to pick him up. You sway his body from side to side, teasing him. “You are one extremely spoiled dragon, you know that?”

“My only defence is that my wife takes wonderful care of me.”

Ugh. How smug. You cradle him against your chest and depart for the harbour.

☆☆☆☆☆

Zhongli is right: the stars are marvellously bright this evening. Pinpricks of light adorn the deep blue blanket of the night sky, sparkling like the priceless gems sold at Mingxing Jewellery. You chuckle as you recall Zhongli’s fondness for all manner of precious treasures.

You take a familiar path along Feiyun Slope, your ears picking up the gentle sloshing of the water down at the harbour below. Around you, the city slowly comes alive with chatter as the heat of the late afternoon sun cools and people begin to pursue hard-earned leisure after a long day’s work. You take the steps between Xinyue Kiosk and Liuli Pavillion, peeking over Zhongli in your arms as your feet carefully find their way down.

Every so often, Zhongli snuggles further into your chest, or nuzzles your neck. “You’re very distracting, my love.” You chide, using the palm of your hand to gently push him away from your face. “I thought you were supposed to be pretending to be a dragon plushie. You’re going to give the game away.”

Zhongli just makes a sound of contentment against you. “The city is too busy at this time of day to pay close attention to us, darling.” Then his long tongue playfully flicks your ear.

“Zhongli!” You whisper urgently, jostling him in retaliation.

Hmph! You think. You flick your dragon husband’s forehead, but all that brings you is the deep rumble of laughter. “Do that again,” he teases. “I could barely feel it through my scales.”

You’re almost at the water’s edge when you hear someone call your name. Turning, you see Hu Tao waving at you from the distance, grinning widely. Feeling just a bit disappointed at the disruption of your date, you nevertheless plaster a matching grin on your face and make your way to Hu Tao.

You don’t know the director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlour too well, but she’s made your acquaintance thanks to Zhongli. He’d warned you about how… nosy his employer could be, and anticipating her prying into his private life, had introduced you early on as his wife.

“How are you doing, Director Hu?” You ask, a polite smile stiff on your face.

Hu Tao waves off your greeting. “Don’t be so formal with me! I’m not your boss, am I?” Her eyes move to rest on the fat brown lizard in your arm. “Oh my, that’s an adorable plushie isn’t it?”

You panic and take a hasty step back, clutching Zhongli even closer. “Don’t mind me, Director Hu. Zhongli just won this for me from the arcade. I’m… uh… I’m very attached to it, you see.”

Bringing up Zhongli’s name successfully diverts Hu Tao’s attention. She looks behind you, as if expecting to see your husband hiding in your shadow. “You’re here with Mr Zhongli, are you? Where is he?”

You feel Zhongli squirm in your arms, and you tighten your grip around him in warning. “Ah, he’s… gone to get us some tea. I told him I was feeling rather parched.”

Hu Tao chuckles, clearly amused at the mental image of Zhongli spoiling you. “I never knew our good consultant to be such a doting husband. He’s always so reserved and formal at work, you know? Stiff, almost.”

At Hu Tao’s words, you feel something soft brushing against your knee. You tense as you realise Zhongli’s tail is creeping up your skirt. You step closer to Hu Tao, trying to prevent her from glimpsing Zhongli’s wayward tail. She quirks an eyebrow at your proximity while you babble to distract her.

“I do apologise for my husband’s behaviour, Director Hu. He’s rather set in his ways, bless him. I hope he hasn’t caused you any trouble at—” You grit your teeth when you feel his tail lift a corner of your skirt, the thick fur at the end tickling and caressing your thigh. “—at work recently.”

“Are you alright? You’ve got such a severe frown on your face.”

“Oh, I’m alright, I just—” You bite your lip as you feel Zhongli’s tail slowly slide between your thighs, the thick fur at its end tickling and teasing you. “I just can’t believe he’s taking so long. He’s not a neglectful man. Usually. Anyway! It was nice meeting you, Director Hu! I’ll catch up with you again sometime. Please tell me if Zhongli causes you any trouble!”

You hurriedly stride away, heading for a quiet corner of the harbour and as far away from prying eyes as possible.

“Zhongli!” You hiss, holding him under his arms and lifting him away from you. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Giving my beloved wife some much-needed attention,” he responds smoothly, his tail reaching for you once again. “I must make up for my past neglect,” he adds, in a tone that feigns regret. You snort, but your hands are occupied with holding him up and can’t stop his tail from causing further mischief.

“Not in public, Zhongli!”

“Hold me closer, darling,” Zhongli purrs. “It is a cold night out… and I’ve left my garments at home.”

You grudgingly hold him close again, rolling your eyes when you feel his tail slip under your skirt again. “For the love of Celestia, Zhongli, you’re not going to make me flash the entire harbour, are you?”

“I would never,” Zhongli responds, bringing his snout close to your face. His voice is a dangerous purr: “All dragons are protective of their treasure, and I am especially protective of mine.”

Damn it, you sigh, exasperated. This is what happens when your husband has had six thousand years to practise his lines. “I wish you’d just told me you wanted to stay home.” You grumble, gripping him tightly with one hand while you try to grasp his tail with the other. A childish game ensues, with Zhongli delightedly flicking his tail out of reach as your arm flails in a futile attempt to catch him.

“I didn’t want to stay home,” Zhongli says. You can’t see his face, but you wonder if he’s pouting. “I wanted my wife to see the stars.”

“Your tail is working harder than your eyes!” You retort. You let out a sigh of relief when Zhongli finally places his tail in the palm of your hand. “Have you had enough of teasing me yet, you incorrigible beast?”

“I’ve barely teased you,” Zhongli laughs. “Were you looking forward to more? Hm?”

“I…”

“Won’t you answer me, my wife?”

This is what I get for marrying the God of Contracts, you complain to yourself. Ruthless negotiator, driver of hard bargains, all around merciless god…

But when your grip on his tail loosens, and when you allow his tail to slip under your skirt again with not a single word of complaint, Zhongli hears your answer loud and clear.

“If you’ve had enough of the stars tonight, darling…” Zhongli’s voice trails off as his tail brushes the front of your undergarments, raising goosebumps on sensitive skin. It seems your dear husband is just as distracted as you are. “You should take me home. It is so bitterly cold out, and I know just how to warm you up.”

“It’s… it’s not cold out tonight at all…” You mutter, though your mind is far, far away from boring discussions of the weather.

“Indulge me,” Zhongli whispers, snuggling even closer to you.

And you do.

[alwaysmicado]

save your tears

4.6k | 18+ MDNI | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: dubcon (sex while high), alcohol & drugs, unprotected piv, rough sex, choking, loss of virginity, mention of blood, degradation/praise, hurt no comfort, mean!Dieter Summary: It’s your lucky night! Your favorite movie star, Dieter Bravo, picks you up at a club and takes you home. You don’t want to blow it by telling him you’re a virgin, do you? A/N: Never meet your heroes...and please don’t fuck Dieter Bravo raw without seeing a notarized STD test first. I’m super excited to share this fic with you and I really hope you’ll enjoy it!! Let me know your thoughts! ♥︎

Dieter Bravo masterlist ♡ main masterlist

Another kiss with a stranger, another fiery shot of tequila, another night immersed in the opulence of a luxurious club in the heart of Beverly Hills.

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the venue, drowning out any coherent thought. A sea of bodies sways in a synchronized rhythm, lost in the intoxication of the music, the free-flowing drinks, and the swirling lights.

You and your friends are no exception, caught up in the vibrant chaos of the dance floor, laughing and moving to the infectious energy of the night.

The tight dress you’ve chosen for the night clings to your every curve, a sleek fabric that accentuates the enticing contours of your body. Its deep, midnight black hue embraces you like a second skin, tracing the delicate curve of your breasts, descending sensuously over your torso, and accentuating the gentle swell of your hips.

As you move, the straps, delicate and barely there, become ethereal threads, caressing your skin with each sway and twirl on the dance floor. The dress’s neckline is daring, a subtle plunge that hints at mystery and allure, inviting the eyes to linger for just a moment longer.

Your choice of footwear is equally as captivating. The heels, sleek and strappy, elevate your posture and add a tantalizing sway to your every step. The ensemble not only looks exquisite but feels like a second skin. In this carefully chosen outfit, you feel an undeniable sense of confidence and allure – you feel like a goddess.

As the night progresses, and a few shots later, you find yourself losing inhibitions with each beat. The alcohol warms your veins, and the euphoria of the moment takes over. The atmosphere inside the club is charged with excitement, the air thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and anticipation.

And then you see him.

Amidst the crowd, your gaze collides with a pair of intense, dark eyes that seem to cut through the chaotic haze. Recognition strikes you like a bolt of lightning – Dieter Bravo, the famous Oscar winner, stands at the fringes of the dance floor, his gaze fixed on you.

The look in his eyes is predatory, stirring desire deep within you. He gestures with a subtle nod of his head towards the exit, a silent command that sends your heart racing.

You excuse yourself to your friends, your words lost in the overwhelming discord of music and laughter. They barely register your departure, the night unfolding in a blur of colors and sound. The crisp air outside is a welcome contrast, a momentary escape from the heated chaos within.

You take a deep breath.

Before you know what’s happening, a strong pair of hands seizes you, pushing you against the cold exterior wall of the club. It’s Dieter, his eyes burning with desire as he takes in the sight of you. His words come out in a low, husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he confesses, his breath hot against your ear. You’re trembling slightly as he pulls back a little to look into your eyes, one hand planted on the wall next to your head, the other gently cupping your hot cheek. His touch sends a jolt through your entire being and your skin tingles beneath his fingertips.

“Why don’t we take this party to a more private setting, hm? My place is just around the corner,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours for a sign of rejection.

His proposition hangs in the air, a surreal moment that seems too fantastical to be real. Dieter Bravo, a man renowned for having his pick of any woman he desires, wants you to come home with him?

You hesitate for a fleeting moment, the thrill and exhilaration of the unexpected encounter mingling with a feeling of unease. Is this a good idea?

Oh, fuck it. 

With a breathless nod, you give in to the magnetic pull of his desire. You’re never gonna get a chance like this again in your life.

Dieter’s eyes flicker with satisfaction at your willingness and a self-assured smirk plays on his lips. “Smart choice, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive, intertwining with the rhythm of the music coming from inside.

With a confident yet gentle touch, he guides you to his waiting car, his warm palm resting on the small of your back.

His driver awaits, a stoic figure leaning against the passenger door with crossed arms, well-acquainted with the routine of escorting the renowned womanizer and his conquests. The man looks a few years older than Dieter, and as you approach, you can’t help but ponder the untold tales and silent observations this seasoned driver must harbor as living witness to the enigmatic world of his famous boss.

Dieter leans in to whisper something into the driver’s ear, a private exchange that ends with a wink and a grin directed at you. With a confident saunter, he rounds the car, slipping into the back seat from the other side.

“Good evening, Miss,” the driver greets you with a practiced courtesy, opening the back door and gesturing for you to step inside. In that fleeting moment, as he meets your gaze, you detect a subtle flicker of concern in his eyes, swiftly masked before you fully register its presence.

You swiftly dismiss the uneasy feeling that briefly fluttered within you and gracefully slide into the luxurious car, taking the seat beside Dieter. The plush interior envelops you, a cocoon of opulence that showcases the movie star’s wealth. As the door closes with a muted thud, the insulating quiet of the vehicle amplifies your anticipation.

The car ride is a blur of sensations.

Dieter pulls you onto his lap, his lips finding yours in a fervent kiss. His hands explore the contours of your body, a mix of escalating desire and urgency palpable in every touch. 

Glancing at the rearview mirror, the driver is a silent witness to a scene that unfolds with unsettling familiarity. Dieter’s reputation as a notorious womanizer is well-known, but the silent driver remains impassive, steering the car towards your destination.

“Fuck, baby,” Dieter whispers against your lips, his erection straining painfully against his pants. “You wanna sit on my cock right here or wait ‘til we’re home?”

You sensuously roll your hips, and he responds by squeezing your ass, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips at the tantalizing friction.

“I want you to take me in your bed,” you purr, as the champagne and tequila flowing through your veins embolden you.

“Alright, beautiful,” he murmurs between sloppy kisses to your neck and jaw, his hand tracing the delicate skin of your shoulder before sliding down the strap of your dress with practiced ease. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Every word Dieter utters, every caress of his hands, the heady scent of his cologne—the fact that your idol, a man larger than life, is currently drunk off your beauty—adds fuel to the intoxicating fire that courses through your body, making you acutely aware of the pulsating ache and growing wetness between your thighs.

You’ve never wanted to fuck anyone this badly.

Dieter slides down the other strap of your dress, the fabric yielding to his touch as he pulls it down, leaving it to pool around your waist and revealing your naked chest.

“Goddamn, your tits are perfect,” he whispers in awe, his hands tracing a delicate path from your shoulders down to your breasts, cupping one in each hand. “I almost forgot how good real ones feel.”

Your smile widens in response to his comment, relishing the sensation of Dieter Bravo praising your tits.

He massages them, softly at first, his touch a gentle prelude that gradually escalates in intensity as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening your kiss, moaning against his lips. Your body responds eagerly, writhing on his lap, your swollen clit rhythmically rubbing against his hard bulge, each movement eliciting a wave of pleasure that has your eyes fluttering shut and your back arching.

Dieter leans in, spurred on by the movement of your body and your little moans of pleasure, pressing your tits together with a hunger that mirrors his escalating passion. His kisses are sloppy, a mixture of lust and possessiveness as he licks and sucks on your nipples, twirling his tongue around them.

The sensations alternate between pleasure and a tingling pain as he bites down, eliciting a desperate whimper from you that he hungrily absorbs by pressing his lips against yours once more. 

“This your first time fucking a real movie star, baby?” he murmurs, trailing kisses and bites down your sensitive neck.

Your head is spinning, and it takes you a few seconds to register what he just asked you. Even if it weren’t true, you’d be smart enough to stroke his famously big ego and tell him what he wants to hear. But, in this case, it is true.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your fingers tangled in his now-disheveled curls.

God, his hair is soft. The thought crosses your mind that being a millionaire must afford you great hair care. Just one of the perks of being one of the chosen ones, you muse with a smile.

“I promise you’ll be thinking of me every time you fuck someone else after I’m done with you, darling,” he smirks at you, satisfied with the fact he’s the first man of his stature you’ve experienced.

If he wasn’t already rock-hard before, he would be now.

You giggle and bite your lip, your dilated pupils telling Dieter everything he needs to know – you want him as badly as he wants you.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you purr, leaning in to suck and nibble on his neck while rolling your hips again.

“Oh shit,” he whispers, letting his head fall against the headrest and gripping your hips with his hands. “I knew you were a bad girl the second I saw you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Good girls don’t rub their needy little pussy on some stranger’s cock minutes after they met.” His breathing is strained, and he needs to concentrate hard to not come in his pants. “Good girls also don’t let me do a line off their perfect tits.” 

You pull back a little to look into his eyes, and he raises an eyebrow.

Against your better judgment, you nod, and he reaches into the right pocket of his pants to retrieve the biggest coke baggie you’ve ever seen. Goddamn, how does this guy get any acting gigs done if he does massive amounts of coke like this? His manager must be nothing short of a god.

“Push them together, baby,” he says, watching hungrily as you take your tits and press them together to create enough surface for him to put his powder on. “Fuck, that’s it.”

He pours a generous amount onto your skin, creating a line with his finger.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your warm lips. His gaze drops to the line of coke on your tits before he lowers his head, presses a finger on his right nostril, and inhales the powder in one swift motion.

The lewd, forbidden feeling of letting him do drugs off your body has your pussy clench around nothing. You’re beyond turned on.

“Phew!” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “This is some primo shit, holy fuck. You wanna try?”

Dieter’s eyes find yours as he wipes his nose and tilts his head. “You’re never gonna find something this pure again.”

“Sure, why not,” you coo, succumbing to the excitement of the moment. One more bad decision’s not gonna kill you, right?

“Such a bad girl,” he murmurs with a smirk, then pours some coke on the back of his hand. He arranges it in a line for you and brings it closer to your face.

The fine white powder lies on his skin like a whisper of the night, and with a quick, controlled motion, you inhale. The sensation is immediate, a rush that starts from the point of contact and spirals into a heady euphoria. The sharp intensity sends a tingling sensation through your nostrils, a mix of heat and exhilaration.

In that fleeting moment, the world seems to shift.

The pulsating lights of the city take on a surreal glow, and the hum of the car’s engine becomes a rhythmic accompaniment to the rush coursing through your veins. The nightclub’s music, still echoing in your ears, melds with your newfound energy, creating a synesthetic experience that blurs the boundaries between the external world and your internal sensations.

You’ve never felt this much like yourself and not like yourself at the same time before—it’s surreal.

A tingling warmth radiates through your body, a sensation that is both invigorating and disorienting, like an electrifying surge that momentarily disconnects you from reality.

Dieter watches in real time as the coke takes effect and your pupils dilate further, your features signaling an intensified awareness of your surroundings.

“That’s it, baby,” you hear him purr before you feel his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you into a messy kiss.

You’re not entirely sure how you made it to Dieter’s bedroom.

– – –

His sheets are incredibly soft, some sort of luxurious fabric that feels heavenly against your naked skin. You’re clad only in your panties, lying on your back with Dieter on top of you, your legs spread to accommodate his hips. 

You hear music coming from a speaker somewhere in the room – he must’ve put it on when you got in. You moan as he kisses your neck, his warm tongue and lips tracing your skin, nibbling, biting, marking you. 

He props himself up with his forearms on the bed beside your head, the soft hair on his belly grazing against your skin with each rhythmic movement of his hips.

“Look at me, baby,” he tells you, breathless, eager to finally bury himself in your pussy. You open your bloodshot eyes, biting your lip at the delicious pressure he’s putting on your clit.

“Tell me you want me.”

He caresses your cheek, his fingertips leaving a tingling sensation on your hot skin. You nod in response and moan when his hard cock rubs against your sensitive clit once again.

“Hey,” he taps your cheek not so gently and bores his eyes into you. “Use your words.”

You’re startled, but a grin forms on your lips as your foggy brain registers what he’s asking.

“I want you, Dieter,” you coo, your nails digging into the meat of his ass. “I want you to fuck me.” His lips crash against yours in an instant, and you whisper, “Please,” against them as your mind drifts off into another realm again.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs as he straightens up to take off his boxer briefs. “I’m gonna give you exactly what you need.”

Your eyes follow the movement of Dieter’s hands, mesmerized, watching in slow motion as his cock springs free. Fuck. It’s a lot bigger than you’d imagined, and it’s so…beautiful. You wish he’d put it in your mouth for you to taste it, but since you can feel him pulling down your panties, you guess he’s gonna go straight to fucking your pussy.

You feel his hands on your thighs as he positions himself between your spread legs. Then, you watch as he spits on his hand and strokes his cock. You moan at the sight, wanting nothing more than for him to take you, to ravage you, to become one with you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” he murmurs more to himself than to you, haphazardly swiping his fingers through your dripping wet folds. You can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips when he brushes your clit.

He scoots closer, and you can feel the hairs on his thighs against yours as he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance. It’s warm, slippery, feels kinda nice. You close your eyes and turn your head.

This is it. You’re gonna have sex for the first time. 

And with none other than Dieter fucking Bravo – Oscar winner, movie star, womanizer extraordinaire. If you weren’t so out of it, you’d laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation.

He pushes in with one slow, deliberate thrust, savoring the feeling of each inch gradually disappearing into your body.

You inhale sharply, your breath catching at the initial discomfort of his cock stretching you. Your brow furrows in response, and you instinctively grip the sheets with your hands, a mix of pleasure and mild pain coursing through your body.

“Holy shit, your pussy’s tight,” Dieter groans, his hips stuttering at the sensation of being completely sheathed in you. “Feels so fucking good.”

He withdraws again just as you begin to acclimate to the girth of his cock inside you, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss. Your hypersensitive system is so overloaded with sensations that it compels you to moan, whine, and writhe under his touch, uncertain of how to process everything you’re feeling and experiencing.

Dieter chuckles at your desperate little noises, more than ready to give you as much of his cock as he can, and to show you pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of.

If there’s one thing he takes pride in, it’s leaving his sex partners thoroughly satisfied, mind empty, covered in cum, and wanting more.

He spreads you open again in one smooth movement, your pussy eagerly devouring every inch. Pleased with your moans and the tight grip of your walls, he grabs your thighs and shifts his weight, pressing them against the mattress to penetrate you even deeper.

“Fuck,” is all you can get out as he sets a brutal pace, pushing your body up the bed repeatedly. His cock relentlessly strikes a deep spot within you, each thrust accompanied by the rhythmic slap of his balls against your ass.

“That’s it, baby. Take my fucking cock. Fuck, you’re the best slut I’ve had in a while.”

Dieter wants you to scream his name and come all over his cock. Sure. But he’s greedy and craves more than your physical surrender. He wants to etch his name into the very fabric of your desires, your being, a memory that will linger in your thoughts for the rest of your life.

The initial discomfort you’ve experienced slowly gives way to raw, carnal pleasure, a drug-induced dance of sensations that leaves you breathless. Dieter’s movements are harsh, designed to bring you to your limits, and you find yourself meeting his thrusts with an eagerness that surprises you.

The vast expanse of Dieter’s bedroom is filled with the intoxicating sound of your moans and smacking flesh, creating a dizzying symphony that envelops you in the throes of ecstasy.

“Look at me,” you hear him growl somewhere over you, and when you don’t budge, you feel his bruising grip on your jaw. “Hey, I’m not telling you again.”

You open your eyes, your eyelids so heavy you need to summon all of your strength to pry them open. Dieter’s face hovers close to yours, his breaths ragged, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, tracing a path down his temples.

His eyes are dark, hungry, dangerous. He gazes at you like he wants to devour you, to consume you wholly. You sense the intensity of his desire, and you’re more than ready to surrender to it.

You feel his hands tighten around your neck, the diminishing flow of oxygen to your brain heightening your senses even more. As your vision blurs and your pulse quickens, you’re caught in a paradoxical dance of ecstasy and fear, an exhilarating moment that pushes you to the brink.

Dieter deliberately hits your G-spot over and over again, his cock throbbing and leaking precum at your increasingly loud moans and spasming walls. 

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he pants, intensifying the grip on your neck and the force of his thrusts. Instinctively, you start clawing at his arms. “What a sick little thing you are, getting off on me hurting you.” 

Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself slipping away as Dieter’s pelvis puts enough pressure on your clit to bring you closer to climax with every roll of his hips.

“Oh fuck,” you faintly hear Dieter’s voice, “you’re choking the shit out of me, holy–”

You don’t hear the end of his sentence as an abrupt, violent orgasm takes over your body and mind in waves. Your walls spasm and contract uncontrollably around Dieter’s cock, every single muscle in your body tensing as you release a silent scream, caught in a tumultuous mix of ecstasy and distress.

Dieter lets go of your neck and bites down on your shoulder as he comes, emptying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan. His cock pulsates as your pussy eagerly milks and swallows up every last drop of his seed. 

He pulls out of you and collapses onto the mattress, his chest heaving, heart racing, utterly spent. His cum leaks out of you, pooling on the sheets between your thighs.

The room is heavy with the lingering scent of sex as Dieter finally catches his breath. Sweat glistens on his forehead and chest, and his erratic breaths permeate the air. You lie there, silent and still, your body sore, and your mind in turmoil.

The reality of the moment slowly dawns on you – every heartbeat sobering you up a bit more, tangled emotions leaving you disoriented.

Shit. What have you done?

“That was…holy shit,” Dieter chuckles beside you as he props his head up on his hand.

His face falls immediately as he glances at the bloodstains on the sheets. His eyes widen in shock, and a pang of guilt hits him deep. He wasn’t gentle, and you never spoke up. The room is silent for a moment before he breaks it, his voice sharp and accusatory.

“You’re bleeding.” His eyes meet yours, and the storm within them is unsettling. Your heart beats rapidly, fear coursing through you. “Tell me this isn’t what I fucking think it is.”

You look away, a lump forming in your sore throat. “I...I didn’t expect it to hurt so much,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

“Oh my fucking god.” Dieter’s tone is harsh, his face contorted with a mixture of confusion and anger. He swiftly rises from the bed, the mattress shuddering under his abrupt departure. His pacing is agitated, a restless back-and-forth that adds to the already palpable tension between you two.

You sit up against the headboard and pull up the covers to shield yourself from the chilling air that envelops you. You’re shivering. 

“Why the hell didn’t you say something? Are you trying to ruin me?”

Your heart drops. “Wha–”

His accusations hang in the air, and the room feels suffocating. Deep down, Dieter knows he should feel remorse for his actions, but instead, he redirects his hurt feelings towards you. The drugs and alcohol coursing through his system amplify his irrationality and paranoia.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice rises, echoing off the walls. “Is this some sick ploy to get your fifteen minutes of fame or some shit? To expose me?”

You’re left stunned, the whirlwind of pain, confusion, and the sting of betrayal clouding your mind. The vulnerability you shared just moments ago morphs into an uncomfortable reality, a hurtful reminder of what you were to him — a warm, nameless body he could fuck.

And now, you’re a nuisance at best, and a PR nightmare at worst. 

“Dieter, it’s nothing like that," you say, pleading, attempting to diffuse the escalating tension as the walls close in on the shattered remnants of a fun night. “I didn’t know how to tell you and…it’s not a big deal, I’m okay.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouts, shaking his head in frustration. “I wouldn’t have fucked you like that if I you’d told me you were–” he cuts himself off, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The resentment in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, making your blood run cold.

“Dieter–”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Please, I’m sor–”

“Get the fuck out!” he roars, the anger in his eyes intensifying.

You immediately get up and scramble to get your clothes back on, your hands shaking. You grab your belongings, trying to maintain a shred of dignity as you hastily dress.

Dieter, seething with anger and regret, roughly hands you a wad of cash from his nightstand when you’re done. 

“Here, take this. Get a Plan B or whatever the hell you need, and keep your mouth shut.”

You stare at the money in your hand, then at the man who’s throwing you out in the middle of the night after taking your virginity. The bills are cold in your hand, and you crumple them up, throwing them back at him.

“I’m not your whore, Dieter. Go to hell!”

Heels in hand, you make your way past him and out the door. You don’t stop as he calls after you, his voice strained with genuine remorse.

“I’m sorry!”

He really is.

– – –

The cold night air hits you like a slap, tears blurring your vision as you stumble away from Dieter’s mansion, the weight of what just transpired inside heavy on your shoulders.

His hurtful words echo in your mind, the throbbing pain between your legs intensifying with every step you take. Your breath falters in the frigid air, and you clutch your arms tightly around you as you make your way toward the waiting car.

The driver, standing beside the sleek vehicle, regards you with a mixture of concern and pity. His eyes have seen this scene unfold countless times before – another half-naked girl leaving his boss’s home in disarray.

You hate the way he looks at you, as if he knows more about your vulnerability than you’re willing to admit.

He opens the car door for you, and you gratefully sink into the plush leather seat. The warmth inside the car is a stark contrast to the chill outside, but it does little to ease the ache spreading through your body.

The driver takes his place behind the wheel, stealing glances at you through the rearview mirror.

“Where can I take you to, Miss?” His voice is gentle, filled with a practiced sympathy that makes your stomach churn. You hesitate for a moment, wrestling with the words you don’t want to say.

“Home,” you finally mumble, offering your address with a numb detachment. It feels like a betrayal, a surrender of your secret world to this stranger who witnesses the aftermath of Dieter Bravo’s fleeting affections.

The car glides through the silent streets, and you find yourself staring out of the window, the city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors.

Your head is spinning, and the pain in your body intensifies with each passing moment. Tears escape as you touch the bruises on your neck, tracing silent paths down your cheeks. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, hoping the darkness conceals your shame.

The driver glances at you in the mirror.

“Are you alright, Miss?” he asks, his tone a delicate inquiry into the depths of your distress.

“Just…drive me home, please,” you whisper, your voice cracking with the weight of unshed tears. You don’t want his pity, his judgment. You just want to escape the haunting echoes of what happened tonight.

But you know that will never happen. Dieter got his wish after all.

You will forever remember him.

– – –

♥︎ Thank you for reading!! ♥︎

Dieter Bravo masterlist ♡ main masterlist

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

A Companion (Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader) Chapter 1

At the wedding of of King Viserys and the Lady Alicent Hightower, the father of the bride has an unexpected meeting with a young widow.

Series Masterlist Here

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: discussion of spousal death

Author's note: PEEPAW TIME

Chapter 1: A Meeting

The Great Hall was full of laughing, happy people, many well on their way to true celebratory drunkenness.

Otto Hightower was not one of them.

He had been enjoying the celebration of his daughter’s wedding. But that was before his son, Gwayne, had gotten so raucously drunk that two members of the Kingsguard were required to force him back to his quarters. And before the bedding ceremony was called for, and despite earlier agreements, several pieces of Alicent’s ensemble had been left on the floor of the Great Hall.

It was enough to tempt him into a second goblet of wine, dulling his mind just enough for him to begin to enjoy the music – and to be grateful the Princess Rhaenyra had sullenly slunk away before she could shove any young maidens at him. Perhaps she had entirely forgotten about her plan to arrange his marriage or given up on getting her revenge.

Then again, perhaps not.

Otto passed the time observing the remaining guests, noting who had spoken to whom and about what. It helped him discern who would make a potential ally, who needed more convincing, and who needed to be removed from court. He had just dismissed the grumblings of two minor lords as inconsequential when his eye caught on two people – a man and a woman - that he did not recognize.

They both seemed familiar, yet Otto could recall no name to match their faces. Perhaps he had seen them in passing during the events preceding the wedding – the tourney possibly, or even the morning feast. Though if it had been one of those, he likely would have remembered them.

Still, something about them was scratching insistently at the back of his mind and bringing an unpleasant feeling to his chest. More so the Man than the Woman, but still. If they were somehow a threat, as his instinct suggested, it would be prudent of him to watch them closely.

The Man wore entirely ostentatious clothing, the dyes obnoxiously rich and bright. A gaudy purple shot through with the whitest white silk Otto had ever seen. He was clearly trying to impress his peers and ensure his house was recognized. Still, Otto could not quite place the heraldry, an irony he allowed himself a moment to delight in. The purple and white were relatively unique, but stars were so common that they offered no hint of who the man was.

Northern, most likely, judging by his thick dark hair, hard gray eyes, and stocky build. His features, individually, were well-formed, yet it made an unpleasant whole. A man of brutality and brutishness. A man who smiled rarely. And when he did, his smile likely indicated something wicked. A thoroughly unpleasant figure.

But the Woman – the Lady…

A pretty young thing. A very pretty young thing, likely only a year or two older than Alicent. She wore no heraldry save a small silver pin on her breast. Her clothes were simple, all made of dark fabric that could easily be mistaken for black if one did not look closely. Though she bore no ring on her finger, her hair was worn braided and pinned back like a married woman’s.

With the sinking feeling of both realization and pity, Otto realized that there was only one reason why she would be wearing such clothes at a royal wedding, of all places – she was in mourning.

Yet her companion seemed to hold no pity for her. They were far enough away that Otto could not hear the words, but from the deep furrow of the Man’s brow and the Lady’s tired, resigned eyes, he knew the conversation was not pleasant. He had only just made the decision to stay out of whatever family squabble this was when the Man turned to look at him, then seized the Lady’s arm, hissed something into her ear, and thrust her in Otto’s direction.

At least this did not seem to be the work of Rhaenyra. No, this was all the work of the unpleasant man. It no longer mattered what house he was from or if he could be used as an ally. It only mattered that he was desperate to raise his station, and that Otto did not like him.

The decision was easy to make – he understood her pain, having lost a love himself. He would be kind to her but would not impose himself on such a lovely young woman in mourning any longer than necessary to temporarily sate her companion’s apparent social climbing aspirations. No matter his promise to the King, or his burgeoning desire for a companion of his own, this girl deserved better than an old man. Once he spoke to her, perhaps he could even introduce her to more suitable bachelors.

For he certainly was not the match for her.

If you thought the nearly month-long journey to King’s Landing was insufferable, it was nothing compared to the cacophony that was the capital during a royal wedding. In the last five days, you were forced to endure a parade in the sweltering heat, three days of brutal tourney events, and a “woman’s breakfast” the morning of the ceremony, during which no one spoke to you. And at the end of each day, a grand feast in the Great Hall.

Not that you could partake in much of the exquisite and exotic food, for your good sister Sybelle would not let you eat more than a few bites in worry that you would appear gluttonous and unladylike. Any respite that would have come when she inevitably flitted across the hall to grovel at the feet of the well-esteemed ladies from better-known houses was quickly squashed when her husband – your good brother, Gryff – whisked you away to present you to suitors like you were a prized cow gone to market.

Fortunately, your mourning clothes and shy demeanor meant that very few of the men were enticed by you. And any that were interested were quickly put off when they learned how small and insignificant your house was and that there would be little benefit for them in a match with you. Lord Jason Lannister even expressed surprise that you had been invited to the wedding. Gryff’s sputtering after that had made your evening.

But the more you were rejected, the more insistent he became. Desperate was perhaps the better word. Either way, it led you here – standing to the side of the hall with a still-empty stomach and Gryff hissing in your ear like the viper he was.

“Six days,” he spat, the smell of alcohol lingering on his breath, “six fucking days, and you have yet to tempt even one suitor! From among the two score I’ve introduced you to!” He scoffed and took another swig from his goblet. “Soon, I’ll have to start offering you to young twats whose stones have not dropped. At least they won’t be able to tell how hard you’ve already been ridden.”

“You are vulgar,” you said softly, not entirely wanting him to hear you.

But, of course, he did. Gryff rounded on you, his face reddened and blotchy from his imbibement. There was no pity or warmth in his eyes. There never was. “Vulgar it may be, but if that is what it takes to find you a new husband so you can finally get off my land and stop draining my coffers, so be it.”

You took a deep breath, trying not to cry or scream. It wouldn’t be proper at an event such as this and would provoke even more anger from Gryff and Sybelle. While they would not dare to harm you, they had found several other cruel and creative ways to make you miserable. Best to calm the fire before getting burned.

“I have done my best. I have been kind and amiable of every man you’ve thrust me upon,” you knew your attempt at reasoning with him would likely fail, but at least you would have tried. Locke would not have stayed silent in the face of such insults, so neither would you. “It is not my fault that they are well-mannered and civilized and therefore do not wish to court a woman in mourning.”

Gryff barked a callous laugh, drawing the attention of several of those around you. For once, he did not notice; he only continued to sneer. “But it is your fault, good sister. You may recall that before we left, I commanded that you leave your mourning clothes behind. That you wear something more attractive. Yet you disobeyed me, just so you would have a good excuse to continue living off my generosity!”

In truth, it was because your lady’s maids had known how much you still grieved your beloved husband and refused the order their new master had given. Though you were grateful for their thoughtfulness, you were very close to wishing they had not done it.

Pressing your lips together to stop them trembling, you replied quietly. Weakly. “You know that is not true. Locke was – ”

“A fool to fall for your little act,” he interrupted, smiling triumphantly when he saw tears forming in your eyes. “Always so sentimental and trusting. He may have put on a convincing façade, but he was weak. I have no doubt he would have squandered our fortune and destroyed our reputation just to please you.” He leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “Perhaps it is fortunate, then. That he met such an untimely end.”

A monster. That’s what Gryff was. To say these horrid things about anyone was terrible enough, but to say them about his own brother?

Your revulsion was almost enough to make you throw yourself at the next man you saw and beg him to take you on. But you could not, for you still saw Locke around each corner. The bright smile he always bore when he saw you. The way he held you close and kissed you, propriety be damned. The way he looked at you as though you were the Maiden herself.

He was no fool. He was not weak.

He was a good man. A good husband. Your great love.

And he was gone.

The crushing weight of the grief shattered any retort you had. Not that it mattered anyway – something had caught Gryff’s eye. He seized your arm, making sure his nails dug into your skin even through the layers of black silk, and leaned in to again spit his venom in your ear.

“It seems there may yet be one man remaining who is wealthy enough to suit your tastes,” he laughed gravely. “Do try to make a good impression, or else I shall have to start sending inquiries to the heathens in Essos.”

With that, he shoved you away, towards a shadowy alcove against the far wall. Partially hidden amongst the dimness and the curtains was a tall man. A very tall man. Lean for his age, but with an erudite look about him that suggested his prowess was not of the body, but of the mind.

He was a man you recognized immediately, having seen him in a place of honor at every celebratory you had attended in the capital. Even without that knowledge, you would have immediately known who he was by the golden pin on his breast.

Otto Hightower. The Hand of the King.

And he was looking directly at you.

Oh, Gryff was reaching far too high. And now it seemed you would be the one to weather the fall.

But there was a spark of kindness in Lord Hightower’s eyes – eyes as wise and perceptive as an owl’s – that assuaged your fears enough that you did not tremble as you weaved through the crowd to reach him. Still, you turned your eyes down and prayed he would not recognize you from the pin you still wore. Pity given for your mourning was bearable, but the Hand would know…

You reached him before finishing the thought and lowered yourself in a curtsy. “My Lord Hand,” you began, thankful that, for once, you were able to speak for yourself, “I offer my congratulations to you and your daughter on this joyous occasion. You must be very proud.”

“Hmm, proud indeed.” He held out a large hand to help you rise, a kind gesture you had not expected from a man of his station. When you met his eyes, they were searching your face for something. He did not recognize you then, a relief.

“Thank you very much for your kind sentiments, Lady…?”

A short relief.

Steeling yourself for the pitying coos and well wishes you were sure were coming, you told him your name, then added, “Born of House Fenn, now of House Whitehall.”

And there it was, that hateful glimmer of recognition in his eyes as he remembered the story of the unfortunate girl from the swamps of the Neck, plucked from her humble origins among the crannogmen to wed the dashing young lord of Highpoint.

It was a story fit for a fairytale. That is, until it was over within a year, when your husband was killed in an ambush by the wild men of the Northern mountains. Gryff, your late husband’s younger brother and presumptive heir, was intent upon sending you back to the swamps before he was stopped by his mother, who insisted that though the marriage was short, you nevertheless had all the rights accorded to the Dowager Lady of the hall, and as the potential mother of the new heir – should you be carrying one. After all, you and Locke were truly, deeply in love, and there was no reason to believe his seed had not found root.

Thus, Gryff had you confined to your rooms until your moon’s blood arrived – or didn’t. You were allowed no servant but the guard he had commanded to watch your every move and were forced to endure extensive examinations by the Maester daily. And when your moon’s blood came, Gryff had a carriage waiting to take you back to your father.

Unbeknownst to him, your good mother had sent a letter to both your father and Lord Stark at Winterfell. As a crannogman whose title of nobility was scoffed at by those outside the swamps, your father could do very little to help. But with Lord Stark also on your side, Gryff could not dismiss you so easily. He could, however, appeal the Lord of the North’s order to the only higher authority available, requiring that all involved – except you, of course – journey to King’s Landing to present the case to the King himself.

After hearing both petitions, the King – and Otto Hightower – had not only commanded that you be allowed full rights as a widow, but placed restrictions on how Gryff could treat you. Namely, he could not banish you from his lands or force you to remarry.

He could, however, make your life at Highpoint so miserable that you would wish to leave and be desperate enough to get away from him that you would marry of your own accord. It was something he and his wife were more than happy to do.

Still, as miserable as you were there, it was Locke’s home. The lands he loved so much he spent four whole days showing you the whole of it. And you quickly grew to love it, too, despite it being so drastically different from your home. It became your new home. Aside from the ring he gave you, the land was one of your only reminders of the great love you had lost.

How could you abandon it just because of two unpleasant people?

How could you marry someone else, like Locke had been nothing?

Even if you could, how were you ever to find a husband when every man you met looked at you as Otto Hightower did now?

His brow was furrowed above his water-blue eyes, and his mouth was pursed in thought. No doubt trying to find the words to offer you his pity, as if you had not already heard everything there was to say.

“I am very sorry for your loss, my lady,” he said gently. At least his voice was lovely enough to make the repetition of the words you had heard a thousand times more bearable. “I lost my wife only two years ago. To lose one you love so dearly… is a pain without description. I confess that, when I first heard of what happened to your husband and what was done to you, I could not understand why the Gods would do such a thing to someone so young and innocent and…”

He nodded, seemingly to himself. “I prayed for you, Lady Whitehill. In fact, I still do.”

Then he turned away, looking past you and into the crowd. Had he not still been holding your hand, you may have taken it as a dismissal. You almost wished it was as you felt his fingers tighten around yours and his face turn from pensive to grave. But the second most powerful man in Westeros was holding you in place. Gently, but still. Who were you to disobey him?

“I am surprised I forgot his face,” Lord Hightower mused, only half-speaking to you. “He is easily one of the most unpleasant men I have ever met.”

You turned, following his gaze back to Gryff, who was doing a very poor job of pretending not to be watching you. Turning back to Lord Hightower, you saw his lip curled in disgust. Something about that expression on the face of such a serious, incredibly important man tickled something inside you that you thought had died with Locke.

So, you laughed. Short and weak, but still a laugh. The sound drew Lord Hightower’s eyes back to you, and he smiled curiously. “I did not intend that as a joke, Lady Whitehill. Was I mistaken?

“No, forgive me, my lord.” You shied away from him, looking down at your joined hands. “It is only that I don’t often hear people speak of him with such… honesty.”

“Yes,” he murmured as he, too, looked at your hands. After a moment, he dropped his and crossed his arms behind his back. “He is not a man I would expect to tolerate criticism.”

You sighed, briefly missing the contact, the warmth of his hand. “He is not a man who tolerates many things. But criticism is one that… none at Highpoint dare even contradict him.”

Lord Hightower looked at you thoughtfully, as if you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite sort. “I have had the misfortune of meeting many such men, and I am very sorry you have had to meet even one.”

He was quiet for a while. Long enough that you began silently crafting your farewell and considering how you would explain the fruitless meeting to Gryff. He would not be happy with this particular failure, and you could not decide which of his threats he would follow through on – offering you to mere boys or to Essosi men. Either would likely take you far from home and had no guarantee that your situation would improve. Perhaps –

“Why did he bring you here?” Lord Hightower said suddenly. When you lifted your head to face him, he was again looking not at you but at Gryff. His face betrayed nothing, but a dark gleam in his eyes sent a chill through your blood and yet… made you feel safe. Protected. Like you could tell him the truth.

A foolish feeling. You could tell no one the truth. Telling the truth meant leaving Highpoint – leaving Locke – and that was something you would not do.

“He brought me for the wedding,” you lied. “He thought it might cheer me.”

It was the worst lie you had ever told, though you’d never been very good at them. Though this one was particularly bad. Not only had you not been particularly convincing in your delivery – your voice wavered, and your smile was too tight to be sincere – but Lord Hightower had been at Gryff’s petition to send you away. According to your father, Gryff had been in fine, horrible form. So, Lord Hightower knew better than most that your good brother would never do anything for your sake.

And the fact that you were pretending he would apparently made Lord Hightower very, very angry. It seemed as though the shadows of the alcove itself swirled around him and darkened his eyes. Still, you felt safe with him. You knew instinctively that his anger was not directed at you.

Yet you did shrink away slightly when he turned that dark gaze on you. “The King expressly forbade him from forcing you to marry.” His voice had taken on a low, sharp quality, which you were reasonably certain had often made Lords and Generals quake in their boots. Indeed, you were sure you would do whatever he wanted, so long as he asked it in that voice. “Has he disobeyed this? Did he bring you here to find a husband against your will?”

It was hard to meet his eyes. “He…” you swallowed, summoning every bit of your will to not tell him the truth. But even if you did somehow manage to lie convincingly, you did not doubt that Lord Hightower would nevertheless be able to see right through you. This was a political mind at work, the keenest in the realm. He likely knew the answer before he ever asked the question. Which meant…

What he was actually asking was something different. Something he dare not speak aloud in the presence of others? No, not that. He was the Hand of the King, and this was the Red Keep – his territory. You doubted there was anything he would fear to say here, save open treason.

What was it?

If this was a political move, he must want something from you. Locke had once told you when you were alone in your chambers sharing a bottle of wine after one of his taxing journeys to Winterfell, that amongst lords and kings, nothing was ever free. There was no charity.

And yet, you could not think of a single thing Lord Hightower would want from you. You had no wealth of your own, nor did your father in any meaningful way, and Gryff would not part with a single sliver of copper. You held no alliances of your own outside of the crannogmen, and you doubted they would ever be of any help to him or the King. That left only… yourself.

He could not possibly want you. Yes, he was a widower, but his loss had also been recent. He told you himself how much it had pained him.

Even if he was in the market for a new wife, he would not want some penniless widow from the Neck. With his family name, position, and new status as the Queen’s father, he could choose any woman he wanted to wife. Though if he was looking for a distraction rather than a marriage… you did not let yourself consider it. He had made no advance on you, and his eyes held no sign of lust. You had seen lust in Locke’s eyes, burning like silver flames. There was no such flame in Lord Hightower’s eyes, only pity and concern. And something gentle, almost like hope.

Was it possible that his daughter’s wedding had made him feel charitable? That he had seen a sad young widow and decided that it was in the spirit of the day to help someone in need?

Help.

That is what he was asking – if you wanted his help. If you said ‘no’ right now, even knowing what he knew, he would walk away.

But if you said yes – if you asked for his help?

The Hand of the King was a powerful ally, the father of the Queen even better. If someone who could as easily grant Gryff the wealth and reputation he so craved as he could ensure it never came to be offered his support and protection, you didn’t know what would happen. But perhaps it would be better.

“Yes,” you whispered. The word could either save or damn you, but you said it either way. “He wants rid of the responsibility of me, so much that he’s willing to give me to anyone who shows interest.”

His dark expression was interrupted by a brief flash of confusion. Before you could inquire about what had disturbed him, he leaned down towards you. A strategic move. Anyone looking at you would merely see a man attempting to charm one of the last women remaining at the end of the celebration.

“Forgive me for my forwardness, my lady,” he paused to look you over again, “but I admit I find it hard to believe that no man has shown you interest.”

Another veiled question. This one easier to decipher.

You ensured you were positioned so that Gryff could not see your face before answering, for you knew you could not hide your smug smile. “The mourning clothes help with that,” you admitted, “as do carefully timed tears.”

Lord Hightower seemed to relax at that and smirked at you conspiratorially. “I imagine the prospect of a permanent association with your good brother is the most effective deterrent.”

It was not a deception for Gryff’s benefit when you began to laugh together. You had not laughed with someone in so long nor felt as comfortable around another person since Locke died. Not even with your good mother. She tried, but she could not separate you from her grief for her son, so laughing with her was a sheer impossibility.

The realization sobered you instantly. This moment was a gift, yes. But the very fact that a moment of laughter with a stranger was the happiest you had been in more than a year and would likely remain so for some time. You would be returning to the North soon, back to a life with very little joy.

It was as though Lord Hightower could read the thoughts in your eyes. His own smile fell, and he again took your hand. “When do you leave the capital, my lady?

“We will remain several days more,” you answered, the words tasting like bitter wine. “Gryff is eager to make alliances and raise his standing.”

“Hmm,” Lord Hightower hummed as he absentmindedly stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. From how his eyes darted back and forth ever so slightly, you knew that brilliant mind was formulating some kind of plan.

Unfortunately, it seemed he would not share that plan with you.

He simply raised your hand to his mouth to kiss it as a proper gentleman does, the hairs of his beard tickling your skin, before looking at you once more. “You may tell Lord Whitehill that I was thoroughly charmed by you.” Something about the way the corner of his mouth quirked up made you think it was not entirely a fiction. “I suspect that will satisfy him well enough that he will be less… overbearing, at least for a while. In the meantime, I shall endeavor to find a more pleasant solution to your woes.”

Your heart quickened with anticipation and hope, something you had not felt in a long time. While your instinct was to ensnare him in a tight embrace and perhaps even kiss his cheek, you forced yourself to remain civilized, simply squeezing his hand tightly in thanks before letting go and curtsying to him again.

“My Lord Hand, I cannot find words to express my gratitude,” you said breathlessly. “I have known such kindness very little of late.”

He smiled and reached for you before folding his hand behind his back again. “That, my lady, is a tragedy in itself. Once that I swear I will do everything in my power to end as swiftly as possible.”

“Thank you. I…” words failed you entirely. “Thank you so much.”

“It would perhaps be wise to save the majority of your thanks until after I have discovered a solution,” he jokingly chided. For a long moment, he simply held your gaze. “Now, as much as I hate to do so, I believe it is time to return to your family. I have much work to do.”

“Of course,” you said with another curtsy. There was more you wanted to say, but it was too much to sort through in only a moment. So, you gave him another smile and turned away.

As you walked back toward Gryff – who was looking sinisterly pleased – you were amazed to find that, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t dreading tomorrow.

Otto left the Great Hall immediately, though it pained him to do so. But he had not wanted to tell her – raise her hopes too soon – that he was fairly certain he had already found a solution. Perhaps the perfect solution.

But he wanted to pray on it first.

It was too late to call a wheelhouse to take him to the Great Sept. Besides, the servants deserved the night to celebrate, as well. So, he made his way instead to the Royal Sept, which had the added benefit of being close to his own chambers.

The Sept was empty, thankfully. It was quick work to light a prayer candle and to place it on an altar Otto had not knelt at for years – the Maiden’s.

“I come to ask your guidance, Holy Maiden,” he prayed aloud. “There is a young widow who needs my help. Very desperately. I believe I can aid her – I know I can aid her. But I must be sure that I am acting rightly.”

He sighed, staring at the gently flickering flame of the candle. “When I first considered her plight, an answer came to me almost instantly, as if it were an instinct. But I worry… I worry that if I choose to enact it, I will be acting not out of charity and generosity but selfishness.

“She is young and very beautiful, and I believe she has a keen mind. And she understands! She knows what it is like to lose a great love – a true love. She is like me; she does not want to marry again. But it seems for both of us that there is no other option. Would it not then… would it not be right for us to marry?

“We can fulfill the desires and expectations of those around us while remaining devoted to our lost loves. I would expect her to fulfill no wifely duties, nor would she expect me to perform mine as a true husband. We would be… companions to each other. Someone with which we can share a life of contentment without feeling as though we have betrayed those who are gone.”

Otto sat back on his knees and looked up at the face of the Maiden. “Would doing so be a sin? Marriage is supposed to be the true joining of souls in holy and eternal love. That is what I had with Madelyn and what I believe she and the late Lord Whitehill had. Would it not betray the very idea of our past marriages to seek the same again?”

He sighed and dropped his head. “I would, of course, not force her hand. If I propose the plan and she refuses, I will dedicate myself to helping her some other way. But I cannot deny that this seems like fate, that the two of us would find each other. So please, Holy Maiden. Please, tell me if I am right.”

For what felt like the entire night, Otto sat on the floor of the Sept, watching the candlelight dance across the marble floor.

Then the dancing stopped.

Bewildered, he looked immediately at the candle. It was still lit, but the flame did not waver. Instead, it was perfectly still and seemed to grow taller and taller.

As if a cool hand lifted his chin, Otto turned his gaze up to the Maiden’s face. Somehow, she seemed to be smiling. A trick of the light, perhaps. But if the light itself was something impossible… Otto snuffed the flame with his fingers, which did not singe as they touched the fire.

He had never received a more explicit answer from the Gods.

[optimistic-violinist]

Hot Take: Magnifico learning magic and learning how to protect the wishes would've been a better plot for Wish.

Think of it. We start with a town on fire and see Magnifico running away. Maybe he gets caught by the villain. "Any last wishes?" Maybe we see his parents or siblings tackle the villain and tell him to run only for him to watch them be killed (off screen of course).

We get a shot of our villain. I'm thinking a very Shan Yu-like from Mulan. Just, evil. Pillager. Bad Guy.

Magnifico escapes. Since he's gonna be voiced by Chris Pine still (of course), we get the ROTG voice over. "I never saw them again. I never saw my home again. And I vowed that that would never happen again. But that was a long time ago." Cue musical sting, pan up to the night sky and wishing star, title.

Fast forward, Magnifico is now a teenager. Has an adopted mother, living in a cottage in the woods or something near town. He's trying to study magic in his free time, his mother is worried about him getting in over his head. He wants to apply for the magic school in the town. Cue song a la "When Will My Life Begin."

He takes the magic exam and isn't bad, but isn't good enough. Maybe they're snobs, maybe it's really that he failed fair and square.

Note: Amaya also lives in this town. They're friends.

Breakdown that night. Cue "So I Make This Wish," almost verbatim and summons... STAR!

Humanoid Boy Star from the concept art, specifically.

They get talking. Magnifico is obviously starstruck (ba dum tish).

M: "you're, you're---"

S: stupendous, extraordinary, splendiferous?

M: magnificent

Cue discussion about why he's out there wishing, the magic exam, why he wants to learn magic, and Star offers to teach him.

Not sure what happens here. Probably mini-quest to get magic books or items. Upbeat montage song. At the end, hint that the bad guy is coming to destroy this town now.

Somewhere in here, we befriend Amaya more and Magnifico starts to fall in love with her. Cue cute romantic song, something about wishing for each other. Star in the background a la Eponine from Les Mis. NOW we can either go romance or friendship route: either way, there is pining about how he is a cosmic entity, ageless, can't stay forever, and Magnifico is going to grow up and do great things without him.

Oh no!! Bad guys are suddenly a lot closer! We've got to prep and do something! Potentially an ensemble/town song. Culminates in Star asking Magnifico what his wish really is. We see his wish is founding Rosas with Amaya at his side. Star reassures him that that's exactly what he's going to do and teaches him how to take and protect wishes. We got a duet a la "For Good" between them. Star tells him that he's going to be magnificent.

Big battle against the bad guys! Magnifico with his really cool sorcery powers! He takes the Bad Guy's wish to harm people and makes him forget it. Magnifico also gets a cool "Defying Gravity" song here with some line about promising to protect people's wishes and if he should ever fail or use that power for evil, may he be cursed or something. Foreshadowing, y'know?

We get one last goodbye as Star goes to leave. Do they kiss? Maybe. Do they have A SUPER TIGHT TENDER HUG FULL OF LOVR AND CARE. ABSOLUTELY. I LIVE FOR THAT. Probably a reprise of one of the songs here.

Fast forward once more to Magnifico as a young adult with Amaya, sailing on a ship as they discover the island that will become Rosas.

Fin.

[buckevantommy]

did you dislike the ep in general, or just the lack of tommy and bucktommy?

i have a headache and i should probably rewatch the ep again once I'm feeling physically better before i answer this but having an achy head means my inhibitions are lowered and my brain to mouth filter is taking a nap, so i'ma let loose..

on the one hand: yes of course i'm annoyed there was no hot pilot in the planemergency. i honestly wasn't even expecting any bucktommy scenes, but i thought tommy would be at the airport staging area, or giving updates from his chopper in the air, etc. i am baffled that tim didn't include their resident pilot in this emergency at all; the repelling into the cockpit might be a little bit too insane even for this show, but i really think they could've utilised him in the air traffic control tower from the start - can you imagine tommy telling jem over the radio that he's doing a good job? i can, and my heart melts. 🫠

on the other hand: i get it. it sucks, but i get it. lou is a guest star, this emergency was centred around bathena, there was barely any room in the plot for the 118 let alone other characters. tommy could have been included more easily in the plot imho, but i have to remind myself it probably all comes down to budget and call lists and not wanting to split focus. this is the downside of tv shows unfortunately - it all comes down to money and time limits and star power; were this a book series there would be no excuse not to include tommy, and thus i will henceforth bury myself in fics that do just that. 📚

as for the whole of the ep: ...eh? here's the thing: i really love bathena in the cruise ship disaster so i think having them be the focus of the next disaster is difficult because they can't measure up to that epic chaos and emotional weight in my eyes. i also find it strange that they got the focus of two disasters two seasons in a row, but again: the star power of angela bassett is totally understandable, she really brings it in those disaster scenes and i would love to see her in more roles that balance heavy action and strong emotion bc she is a powerhouse in that dynamic. 💥

BUT - and maybe this comes down to the direction and editing in part - to me, there was a lack of urgency in the plane stuff this ep, which was strange considering all that was going on. i think they ended it too soon and the addition of the fire on the ground didn't really add anything except a fun little scene where buck tried to use a prop hose. it felt kind of.. anticlimactic? i loved the insane shot of bobby standing on the engine meeting the plane nose, but.. *sigh* yeah, i just wasn't on the edge of my seat. i actually prefer the tension and plane plot happenings in 8x02, and when i watched 8x02 live i was a little disappointed, but now i prefer it to this ep. 🛬

i really would've liked to see more of the 118 lending a hand in this emergency. i'm so glad we got as much of buck as we did, and seeing maddie and josh was good too, but.. yeah. that staging video we saw weeks ago of all the engines leaving the hanger just ending up feeling pointless? i was so looking forward to more of the ensemble cast and other firefighter extras helping on the scene, and it seems those potential scenes were traded in for more bathena focus and to me it just wasn't worth the trade. i love their love, but i think tim could've included more characters in the entirety of the planemergency. 🚒

as for athena's ending: returning to the aiport to get a real little black book was odd imho; they could've gone anywhere, and honestly i was kinda hoping for location change, but they were sticking with the theme so i get it. but i really liked the return to the mystery and the impending danger of the case, and the way they tied things up for athena's past was really nicely done, she deserves to have peace and closure and to know it wasn't all for naught. 💝

as for the gerrard stuff: unexpected! wonderful! distrubing af! many of us called it, that gerrard would take buck under his wing (re: golf date) and he'd be faced with this new dilemma of no longer being gerrard's target but of being his chosen one; i foresee angst and conflict in buck's future, specifically in his relationship with tommy - who will likely try to warn him against letting gerrard get too close and worrying over him - but also with the rest of the 118 as he reaps rewards he didn't want while they have to continue bearing the weight of gerrard's captaincy and even moreso now that buck is no longer his main target. 🫂

the gerrard stuff is the only real setup we got for upcoming episodes, but i'm curious to see how the planemergency affects brad and moreover his friendship(?)/dynamic with bobby and the hotshots job. we obviously are going to get more henren drama with ortiz and the kids, which will be interesting - i'm really looking forward to getting more ortiz in the plot. eddie and his moustache will feature, looking forward to seeing how he's coping with chris' absence and how that changes. 👀 lots of good stuff to come and i'm looking forward to all of it and to putting this planemergency behind me (however: the beenado will live on in my heart forever 🐝🌪️).