#young justice hiatus

[0-n-1-x]

HIATUS OFFICIALLY OVER CHAT

GIVE ME SOME REQS PLEASE

[buttterknifeee]

I have very controversial feelings I need to share

[ghost-in-the-corner]

when I get wifi back on my laptop it's over for you bitches

[decisivelyindecisivelibra]

[mywritingonlyfans]

One For The Road. // Mentor!Alex Turner X FreshSinger!Reader (Smut) Part 1

Prompt: (Age Gap Fic;Fem!Reader) Alex is on an extended hiatus from the band and finds himself wanting to start a studio to recruit new talent. One day, he hears a voice on the radio that captivates him, so he jots down the name and, with that voice stuck in his head, searches for it on Google. When he finds you, you both decide to work together for your growth, setting off a journey filled with new melodies, issues with paparazzi and online exposure, and Alex being completely smitten with his latest discovery and love.

Words: 9,5K

A/N: The fic was planned in three chapters: before the recognition (fame), during the recognition (fame), and after the recognition (fame).

Alex felt fulfilled, both physically and emotionally; he didn’t need any additional elements to complete his sense of satisfaction. During the band's extended break, due to various factors like other members' children and James admitting that a break would be beneficial, Alex found himself contemplating new possibilities. Unable to step away from music entirely, he set up a studio and handled other bureaucratic aspects for future artists. This was his way of giving back to an industry that had been so rewarding for him.

He didn’t know much about the artist he was suddenly into, only that sabe was a young girl with a captivating presence. Alex had heard your voice in the car before visiting Miles. It had a numbing effect on him, in a good way, leaving him sitting in the parked car after arriving, gazing out the window and absorbing every word you sang as if they were drops of water in the desert. It was strange, but it was exactly what he needed.

Your voice was raw with potential but still unrefined—you were not bad, just clearly new. The lyrics were sweet and nostalgic, evoking feelings that seemed foreign yet familiar. Alex found your work mature in a way he hadn’t been when he first started making music. He couldn’t picture your face, hair, or preferred style, but your voice lingered in his mind; the breaths, pauses, sometimes resembling soft and failed sighs, were compelling.

After the song ended, he stared at the radio display, waiting for your name to be announced. He quickly grabbed a notebook to jot down before he could forget.

Alex briefly mentioned you during dinner with Miles, running his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. His friend could tell that you had affected him in some way. "Just a girl, huh? How many times have you listened to her songs, Al?" Alex was usually romantic in his descriptions, this time he swore he had been succinct—though he felt he had failed. As the visit was coming to an end, all he could think about was your voice; he had to share you with someone else.

"Not many," he admitted honestly, though it wasn’t very convincing. Miles laughed, indicating he would listen later. His friend's recommendations were always reliable.

…

Finding you on the internet wasn’t easy. Alex had written down the wrong surname, which delayed his search longer than anticipated. You had no professional recordings, and later Alex discovered that the radio segment he had heard was an exclusive broadcast for new artists. All he found were amateur videos on YouTube of you singing in some pubs, with poor audio quality that didn’t do you justice. He listened to them repeatedly over the next few days.

The videos with better resolution were watched more often, and although Alex feared it might be due to your angelic face, he tried to avoid focusing on the fact that you were younger than him–perhaps more than he could point out. Nevertheless, as he closed his eyes before sleeping, he often imagined you from the video of your channel, wearing that summer wine dress with the straps slightly falling off. He imagined gently adjusting them with his finger, smoothing your hair while your calm eyes followed him. Your head falling affectionately into the caress of his palm and a brief wet kiss to your temple as your eyelashes flutter; not that he thought he would have such an effect on you.

It was indescribable how your voice occupied his mind more than anything else. He found himself humming snippets of your lyrics in the shower, while cooking, every end of the day. When he called Miles the next weeknd, his friend knew exactly what to expect.

…

You were delicate, and the words flowed from your lips effortlessly. Indeed, the cameras, the analog look, and the audio from the YouTube recordings didn’t do justice to what it was like to experience you live. There were few people, mostly around your age, though some appeared older with their doubtful expressions. It was a pleasant environment.

He watched you from a distance, neither too far nor too close. Wearing a white collared shirt, jeans, and a brown jacket, he kept his sunglasses on even at night to avoid being easily recognized. Occasionally, he slid the glasses down his nose to get a clearer view of you without the lenses.

You held the microphone gently, as if it weighed nothing, intertwining the cord between your fingers and taking small steps across the makeshift, tiny stage. Most people were distracted, but many took a moment to watch and listen to your music. Sometimes your voice faltered, and he noticed your disappointment, but you were so endearing.

You wore white tights and a black dress with a Peter Pan collar; Alex thought it suited you perfectly. He adjusted the edges of his shirt peeking out from under his jacket, a reflex of how your fingers nervously fidgeted with the fabric of your dress on stage. He smiled sweetly, as if hoping you could see and feel encouraged by it. You were doing well.

At the end, which was marked by silence following your thanks, he began clapping, soon joined by everyone else. You tried not to look around too much, not expecting the applause, and Alex was pleased to see you so happy.

You held a glass in your hand, chatting with the guitarist. Alex could easily see himself playing guitar alongside you in that dimly lit place filled with long, whispered conversations that created an intimate atmosphere. The guitarist nudged you, indicating Alex standing in front of you. When you turned, Alex felt his palms sweating and had to hide them in his pockets. You were even more beautiful up close; your posture wasn’t perfectly straight, but he noticed your charming walk and had to avoid smiling.

Alex felt more awkward than a teenager talking to girls, and he wasn’t proud of it. You greeted him with a warm smile, and before he could say anything, he knew you were as warm as you looked. “I enjoyed your performance up there. You sing really well, and the original lyrics are great. You’re very talented.” The compliment came out smoothly because he had practiced it many times. He felt his face flush, knowing he was fully red.

You bit your lips, offering a shy smile and resting your fingers right around the edges of your dress. Alex found this to be an adorable habit of yours. If he could, he would have held your hand and provided some distraction from whatever you were thinking. You thanked him, unsure of what to do or say but sincere nonetheless. When Alex offered a drink, he noticed your hesitation, but there wasn’t anything better for you to do than share a drink with someone who, for reasons you couldn’t quite place, seemed familiar. He was being nice.

“I don’t think anyone has ever come to see me sing so well-dressed,” you said, your eyes sparkling. Alex felt that in a few hours, you’d be more comfortable around him.

Noticing your assessment of his outfit, you could tell it wasn’t cheap; the fabric of his button-up shirt was well-tailored, the collar had a unique design, and the jacket was definitely leather. Not that you knew much about such things, but you didn’t see many like that.

Alex saw you enveloping your hands and didn’t think twice before taking off his jacket and draping it over you. Fingers touched your icy skin and he wished he had noticed sooner. You didn’t resist, your expression showed that you needed it; you merely nodded in thanks. “Don’t you think you deserve it?” Alex hadn’t intended it to sound flirtatious, but he realized it as soon as the words left his mouth. You shook your head, giving a half-hearted laugh.

He considered apologizing, but you continued, “I think it’s nice to think that someone would dress up to see me here, you know? To know that you’d come to see me sing and then anticipate it throughout the day, even considering what outfit would be most suitable or comfortable. It’s kind.” You were much more eloquent than he was, your words flowed naturally.

You sighed in relief, snuggling into the leather and tucking your hands into the long sleeves. Alex felt his chest warm up. You gestured animatedly while speaking, clearly excited, and probably didn’t even notice when your knees brushed together and stayed there in a pleasant touch that made him not want to move. “Well, if it helps, I heard you on the radio the other day and wanted to see you in person.” He breathed between his words, his voice deepening with the pauses.

You nodded, brushing off the compliment, not because you disliked it but because you didn’t want to deal with it. “I like your accent; it makes you sound older than you are.” Your shoulders brushed together, casually but comfortably, a result of your restlessness. There was a brief silence as you both listened to each other’s calm breathing amidst the background noise of drinks.

Maybe the contact was what mattered; Alex hadn’t planned this poorly. Despite his struggle with succinct communication, he explained the record label project, detailing the steps and what could be done if you wanted to pursue something more professional. At some point, you stopped listening to him, your eyes wandering over his dark hair cascading in beautiful waves, the furrow between the eyebrows, his perfectly shaped mouth, and the stubble that was starting to grow. He gestured less than you did, but his large yet delicate hands made him seem like a Christmas ornament, like men in '80s movies or even a younger Al Pacino.

“I’m listening, but I wouldn’t have the money for it; I can’t even afford a guitar. I play in pubs because I can use their instruments; they don’t pay well, and sometimes it’s just beer and food.” You spoke honestly, without bitterness about how it limited your dreams. You had the purity of someone who believed it was for you. Someone bumped into your chair, causing Alex to steady it, which brought your bodies closer together. He could now distinguish the exact color of your eyes and the scent of your hair. His mouth went dry. “That’s my point; you get paid so I can help you get heard and recognized for your work.”

…

"Did you set up the record label for the girl?" Miles carried a hint of truth, though he knew it was initially Alex’s idea, and you were the final touch that made it happen.

"It’s not like that, she’s really good. You’ll meet her." Alex’s voice carried warmth and anticipation; in a few months, you’d be fully immersed in this with him.

"And does she know what’s going on in your head? Like, the reason for your soft tone and silly grin when you mention her name? I might be wrong, but it doesn’t seem like you’re just thinking of her as a musician, Alex."

He shook his head, as if Miles could see him. "It’s nothing. I just want to help her with this. Besides, I’m not at that stage; we don’t fit in the same place." The idea of putting all that into words hurt a little.

The conversation continued, as if that settled the matter, both on the call and in real life. But Miles’s final words were, "Alex, I’m sure this will hurt her more than it will hurt you; you don't deal well with reason, your feelings will get in the way.”

And though it stung, it might be true—something to consider with concern. But would it really be so bad to spend all that time with you?

…

You learned who he was and thought it might be a scam, but a simple Google search left you stunned. You clearly knew the band, just not his exact current appearance; it certainly wasn’t like in the “Cornerstone” video, but the more recent ones fit the style of a dad with a six-year-old daughter, which was pleasant. Your friends were happy for you, even if they were as incredulous as you.

“It’s quite big; will more people be coming here?” Your voice echoed through the studio, your fingertips freezing. You’d arrived a few weeks ago and had some singing lessons Alex had arranged with another professional, but from then on, you feared he would be your sole tutor.

“For now, yes, but later there’ll be more people.” You nodded, hands in the pockets of your dress. LA was hot, he was killing you with that air conditioning. He had shown you every corner, you felt quite comfortable; the place had guitars on the wall, basses, and a drum set from that inaccessible brand. You stood in front of him, looking like a lost child, genuinely waiting for what to do next. It took him a moment, but he understood.

“Okay, I didn’t plan this out too well,” he laughed softly. He mentioned having read the songs you sent, even though he had heard them before, now he knew the exact lyrics. “Is it okay if I use the equipment?” Your question was followed by the tips of your fingers touching one of the microphones and holding the headphones, waiting for his response.

“Feel free to use whatever you want, little one.” Your cheeks were warm, making you bite the bottom of them. You looked confused at the buttons; they were just buttons with no informative labels. Alex had forgotten that this was familiar only to him. “Sure, it’s a good idea to get you familiar with everything first, then we can see what to do.” It sounded like a good idea.

The time passed quickly; what took hours, with Alex, seemed like minutes. Sometimes silence would fall over you both, but it was so comfortable. He had a pleasant voice, explaining things as if they weren’t intuitive, and you could visualize them. You liked it. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, falling into a cute fringe over his eyes, which shone brightly as he spoke and gestured. He wore a suit and a button-up shirt, making no sense given the amount of fabric he was wearing in the LA sun.

“It’s pretty heavy, Turner,” he had given you a red guitar with white detailing, the side bearing his last name. It had clearly been through some battles but was beautiful. Alex found your pronunciation of the “r” endearing, rolled on your tongue and lingering. No one called him that around; it could be your thing. The guitars you had played were lighter, less durable.

“You can play if you want. You can also make it your own; it’s a good idea to get used to a specific one for now.” You listened, wondering why you wanted him to call you “little one” again. You held the strap, looking at the floor. “I don’t know how to play,” your voice was weak, your fingers pressing the strings without making any sound. He nodded, understanding you.

“What don’t you know, little one?” His face was calm, as if it didn’t cross his mind that you might be a fraud. His body was positioned behind yours, and you felt your heart racing; you were sure he could hear it. He placed his hand on the neck of the guitar, adjusting some strings.

What happened was: you would hum melodies, your friends would map out the notes, next you had them with you.

“I only remember my songs, which are few. I memorized them with the help of some friends at the pub.” You didn’t like how that sounded. You stepped back without thinking, bumping into Alex’s firm chest. He held your waist, noticing your nervousness. You still smelled the same as before.

“There’s nothing wrong with that; no one is born knowing. I learned a lot from the first album ‘til now; we can work on that if you want.” You heard the guttural sound he made when speaking slowly in your ear, dangerously close. “Do you want to try something?” he asked, a little before plucking a small segment of one of your songs. Alex had heard it so much that he had memorized the chords. You found it strange but ignored it; controlling your breathing was more complicated.

“I don’t know, Turner,” he laughed, the pleasant nasal sound close, with his blazer rubbing against your bare arms. He took your hands in his, guiding your fingers as he wanted, explaining each string press and brief sound. It took some time, and due to your anxiety, it seemed to take longer than usual.

“It doesn’t seem to sound very good,” you impulsively turned your face to look at him. His eyes, which had been on your hands, moved to your face, and it was closer than you had experienced before. “But it will, you know?” He smiled, his slightly crooked lower teeth noticeable to you, as well as the light beard scars and age lines around his eyes. God, he was so beautiful.

“You’re doing well, lil’ one; you just need to relax and be more patient.” You felt your fingers ache, pulling your hands slightly away from Alex’s. “You trust me a lot.” He noticed the superficial cut, the tips of your fingers bruised a bit, pretty normal, and you seemed quite calm about it. “Shouldn’t you? Trust yourself? I haven’t seen anything in you so far that doesn’t show how good you are at what you do...” The sentence was lost, somewhat unformed, but you wished he would talk about you like that more often. He took your finger, drying it with the edge of his shirt, which had become slightly reddened, and pressed until it stopped. It was hard not to just look at him. Your cold hands made Alex make a mental note that you weren’t a big fan of the air conditioning or that maybe your clothes were too short and thin.

…

On the same night, before heading back to the hotel, Alex suggested you two could go out to eat together as a way to spend more time talking. Since you’d spent hours at the studio and he hadn’t thought to offer you food or water, he chose a more relaxed place, reminiscent of the pubs where he knew you performed—live music and cozy lighting.

Upon arrival, you felt the chill against your arms. Alex laughed. You hadn’t seen him take off his blazer, but you noticed his attentive gaze as he draped it over your shoulders. It was a comforting relief. “I can control the studio’s temperature, but most places ‘ere are air-conditioned; you’ll end up feeling cold,” he said. You didn’t respond, only pondering whether Alex would always have a jacket or blazer for you if you never wore one. You liked his scent on you and the respectful way he looked at you, you hated that your thoughts were not as innocent.

As you sat across from him, there was little distraction, and you knew it would be a challenging time—more accurately, a journey to be honest, regardless of what happened next. He had loosened more buttons due to the heat. The collar was pressed against his rosy skin, neck chain attached to his sweat, and his eyes were on you, making your stomach flutter. Your foot brushed against his calf under the table, you couldn’t look at him. He smiled pleasantly as usual, the distinctive nasal sound of his laugh remaining soothing, despite the feelings he stirred in you. Your foot found comfort there, resting against him; neither of you moved.

“It smells nice; what is it?” he asked before you put away your pink tube of moisturizer.

“It’s peach,” you replied, sounding a bit excited. You wanted to talk but felt that besides your music, you might not be interesting to him, even though you felt there was something desirable in that; even if you didn't see yourself that way.

“The scent is great; it makes me less tense, Turner,” you said. You took his hand in yours. They were larger and calloused—something your fingers should be. You applied a drop of cream, massaging his hand with focus on each callus and prominent vein.

The sensation was light for him (even for you); your nails brushed against his wrist with a pleasant tickle. Taking your time, you smoothed out the creases in his poorly folded shirt, rebuttoned it, and adjusted the fold to what Alex would consider the perfect height. Your touch was gentle, and there you were, right in front of him, with your shoulders covered by his blazer. He noticed the strap of your dress was a little crooked, but you were nestled in something warm. Alex cherished everything about that realistic snapshot.

When you finished, you noticed his attention was on your face. You smiled slightly, as did he. You were in complete silence, yet every minute counted.

The food arrived shortly, and you didn’t need to question it. He simply whispered a “thank you, little one” to you as you curled into his blazer a bit more. He was hoping it would carry your scent by the end of the night.

The atmosphere remained the same—you both enjoyed each other's company, evident in the unspoken comfort between you. The air felt light in your lungs, yet breathing was easy and relaxed. Alex wasn't particularly hungry, but seeing your bright eyes and inevitable smile with every bite you took, he couldn't help savoring his food as well. You made him feel good; he realized just how true that was.

He gently brushed the corner of your mouth with his clean thumb, wiping away a small smudge. You followed his movement intently, reflexively cleaning the spot afterward. For a brief moment, Alex considered bringing his thumb to his lips out of instinct, but quickly caught himself, realizing the weight of the gesture, and instead wiped it off with a napkin. He thought about apologizing, but feared it would make things awkward.

However, you continued to look at him, your face full of color, the atmosphere just as comfortable and inviting as before. It wasn't a mistake for you; you liked the tingling sensation his touch left on your skin.

…

The weeks passed effortlessly; neither of you avoided the other. Occasionally, you both made your way down from your rooms together for dinner at the hotel restaurant or to have a drink. Conversations came easily. At first, Alex felt uneasy about how you didn’t smoke during routine activities, which made him uncomfortable for not being able to cut back on the habit himself. However, over time, he grew used to it and eventually stopped smoking around you, finding that he missed it less.

Sometimes, nights at the studio would deliberately stretch late, with Alex fine-tuning guitars that didn’t really need it or you attempting to replicate familiar songs on the drums, under the guise of practice. The truth was, even though you both knew you didn’t truly need each other, you still made an effort to be close to one another, whether in quiet moments or during busier times.

"Y’know, oldie. We moved it all online…” You mentioned it when you opened your eyes and noticed Alex annoyed by the droplets from his hair dripping onto his newspaper.

You couldn't pinpoint where the idea came from, but you understood his priority in not overwhelming you—imagining how a poor work dynamic could fall into the hands of bad journalists. In the end, that led you both to the beach, enjoying the refreshing breeze that made the sun less intense.

Your comment drove him to give up on the newspaper and just look at you. He couldn't look at you casually or quickly, he was getting used to that. Behind his sunglasses and cap, he felt like he was taking advantage by noticing the thin strap of your bikini and the ties and lace that drove him to think of other pieces. He took a deep breath, sinking into the lounge chair, like in romantic comedies that end well. You brushed your knee against his, drawing his attention back to you (yes, you were sharing the only remaining chair meant for couples—neither of you even knew such a thing existed).

Alex quickly realized he was blushing, feeling the heat in his cheeks when he got you had noticed him staring at you. "Do you need sunscreen? I didn't see you apply any yet," you asked, getting ready for your second layer, while Alex hadn’t put on any. "How disgraceful, Turner. You hardly seem like an older man." He rolled his eyes at your amusement.

His hair was tousled by the wind. His face had a radiant glow at you. You put some of it in his hand, and he began to apply it to his sun-kissed cheeks and nose, a bit of it smudging into his hair. You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene, his clumsy hands more likely to smear than spread the lotion properly. "Alright, Tur, let me handle this." You moved closer, your cool fingertips touching his skin and discarding the sunglasses. He caught the scent of peach as it drifted on the breeze, smiling softly as you smiled at him. Your gentle touch grazed his cheeks, finding comfort in the rough texture of his beard, which made you scrunch your nose in a playful smile that turned into a quiet laugh. Letting himself relax, Alex closed his eyes as you smoothed the excess lotion onto his neck. He wished he didn’t enjoy that closeness, but he did, and he had no intention of denying it.

You cleaned the stray strands of hair and lightly traced your thumb up the bridge of his nose, pausing briefly between his eyebrows. Alex sighed in contentment, his lips parting slightly, you felt even more at ease. Before he could open his eyes, you stepped back, slathering more sunscreen into your hands, then pressed your palms against his soft shoulders and just above his chest. He gave you a funny look, but before anything else could happen, you pulled away. "Rub it in," you instructed, noting his slight confusion. "And turn around. I'm going to apply it on your back." Touching his warm, velvety skin felt therapeutic. He shared that same sentiment. Was this how cats felt when they kneaded with their paws? It was just as comforting.

Alex felt the same when his fingers touched your back in return. The silence weighed on him, with only the pulsing of his veins echoing in his ears. Yet, you smiled peacefully, eyes closed and lower lip caught between your teeth as you lay on your stomach. He massaged your skin with sunscreen, convinced that this was a laborious task. Your muscles relaxed under his touch, and he noticed a foolish smile creeping onto his lips.

He gently moved the delicate strap of your bikini aside, making sure to cover every inch, no matter how thin the material was. His palm brushed your hair away from the nape of your neck, and for a long moment, he imagined kissing your sensitive skin, hearing your sighs at a playful bite, letting out the repetitive thoughts that were always about you stuck in his mind. He had memorized your scent, longed to immerse himself in you until your peaches became his, something only he could experience–no one else, not even the stupid boys your age (especially them). He followed the same ritual on your neck, sighing to himself as he acknowledged how addictive your skin was there; you were highly addicted.

"Wait a minute," you murmured, your words drawn out and languid, almost like failed moans that would fade into silence. Your delicate fingers fumbled with his as you pulled the bikini string down, revealing more of your skin, though not in an obscene way. Even though his gaze was heavy in a way that it wasn't entirely clear. Soon, the piece was no longer there, but the view was limited by the way you were lying.

Understanding his place, he lightly rubbed sunscreen over the exposed area, subtly moving down your waist and barely grazing your hips. He felt as if he were touching porcelain, afraid that any poorly thought-out movement might shatter you. He gave your flesh a final gentle squeeze, and your abdomen contracted at the loss, accompanied by a soft murmur. Returning to his position, Alex chuckled to himself as he noticed how you kept your head closer to the towel you used as a pillow, your body not moving a single millimeter. It was then that he realized the process had taken longer than expected, you had fallen asleep.

He pulled his cap down over his face, a bit embarrassed, even though you couldn't see him. Adjusting his sunglasses back in place, he quietly watched you, taking in your calm breathing and relaxed posture. He took his own shirt, wrapping it over you, deciding that you had been in the sun long enough. He didn't touch you, knowing you were still asleep, but couldn't resist briefly brushing his fingertips against his lips and gently moving the strands of hair that covered your face. His gaze sharpened instinctively, and while he knew how to handle it if he were alone, you didn't deserve that side of his life.

It was quick—just a fleeting moment, a feeling of being watched, though he didn't hear any cameras or whispers. He didn't want to risk dismissing the thought, even if he couldn't see anyone nearby. Slowly, yet without hesitation, he gently called your name, softly stroking your arm. You responded by murmuring his name, manipulating a warm and soft sound, making him wonder if you were conscious of his presence or merely dreaming—of him. It took a while, but Alex remained patient until your eyes opened, startled. He then placed the cap on your head, carefully cradling you in his arms, being cautious not to disorient you further as he buttoned his shirt on you, doing so with as little awkwardness as possible. Despite touching your skin, he never once looked anywhere but your face, waiting for your arms to slip into the sleeves until you looked somewhat presentable.

"We're going to walk to the car, alright? It'll be quick," he said, his voice concerned, firm, and reassuring. He knew what he was doing, hoping to minimize the damage. You simply nodded, resting your tired cheek on his shoulder, and he chuckled softly. "Can you put on my sunglasses, please, little one?" You gave a sweet smile, making him internally berate himself for putting you in this situation. He placed the sunglasses on you, guiding your hands with his own, and kept you close. "Shall we? It'll be quick, promise and you can sleep on the way to the hotel, huh?" You appreciated his calm demeanor, respecting your groggy mood after just waking up.

He grabbed your bag, abandoning any attempt to save the newspaper, and drove his hand on the small of your back. Leaning into him for comfort, you felt him hold you tighter. Instinctively, you nuzzled your face into his chest, only to hear him say, "Okay, just don't get too close to her, alright?" His heart pounded against your ear, and you heard the sound of camera clicks. You didn't want to, nor could you, open your eyes. You couldn't make sense of the noise; the person continued taking photos, asking questions, and you couldn't tell if there was more than one of them.

Alex opened the car door, firmly guiding you until you were seated inside. He gently stroked your hair, noticing how visibly shaken you were. He quickly kissed your forehead. It was a brief, hurried gesture, one you wished you had more time to savor. You held onto his arm, unable to speak. "I'll close the door and come around; I'll be right beside you, and we'll head to the hotel, okay?" He was frustrated, angry, but it wasn't directed at you; he didn't want you to see these feelings of his. He should have been more careful, knowing that this was possible even with the band being on a break, but he had been careless.

Once inside the car, with the windows tinted completely black, ensuring no one could see in, he reached for your hand as he started the engine, holding it tightly as you looked at him, dazed, avoiding looking outside. "Does this happen often?" you asked, your voice small. His throat tightened with an irrepressible knot; he hadn’t considered how foreign all this was to you.

…

Alex’s head throbbed, the furrow between his eyebrows deep with tension. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between your thighs, eyes filled with unshed tears as you looked at him. He had used his connections, calling to inform them of the situation and to request the removal of any photos of you from gossip sites if they had already been posted. He was told on the phone that it would be handled, which confirmed that the images had likely been uploaded.

Alex chose to make the call in the hallway, asking you to go ahead to the room, not wanting you to hear and worry more than you might have already. But as soon as he entered, it was clear you had seen something. Your fingers played with the hem of his shirt, lost in thought, and guilt washed over him.

"I can listen to you, pretty one," he said, his voice soft, showing a rare vulnerability as he assured you that he was there with you. He wanted to hear you out, to relieve any burden weighing on your shoulders.

"I know this happened because you’re well-known," you replied, swallowing hard as you struggled to find the right words. Alex waited, kneeling in front of you between your legs, his fingers lightly brushing your skin. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but hoped he could offer some comfort. The touch didn’t feel like a mistake—it was a natural act of reassurance, though the proximity made him feel conflicted. Yet, considering the situation, it seemed right.

"I’m really sorry, truly. It was careless of me," he apologized, his tone sincere. You shook your head, gently cupping his face in your hands, pushing his hair back. His warm, caramel eyes focused on you, filled with concern as you teetered on the edge of tears, a feeling he feared he didn’t fully understand.

"Tur, I might sound stupid, but—" You hesitated, then he responded with his usual tenderness, drawing you closer. Your legs wrapped around him, your arms holding him tight. He stroked your hair, helping you find comfort against him. The towel draped over his shoulders—since he had given you his shirt and didn't feel like walking around the hotel shirtless—slipped to the floor, and having his warmth was enough for you.

"If they like the album, which I really hope they do, and with all the pre-album promotion as an artist... I don’t want to sound ungrateful, huh, like, this whole journey with you has been amazing, but is it going to be normal to have so many people talking ‘bout me? Pictures of me without my consent? And comments about my appearance?" You couldn’t look at him, which made it easier for you to speak coherently without feeling embarrassed about opening up.

It was so much to process, and Alex hadn’t considered it from that angle. After all, he was the one who had brought you into this situation, both in the moment and for the long haul. You were young, and he didn’t want you to go through what he had at your age. He could have prevented this, but now you were caught up in it.

He kissed your forehead, then your eyelids, realizing just how intimately right—and wrong—this all felt. It was inevitable, and it shouldn’t have been. He pulled back slightly, only to give in when you tightened your hold, snuggling closer. You took his hand and placed it on your waist, your way of asking him for it to take longer, seeking more of his embrace. He chuckled softly, needing it just as much.

There wasn’t much to say. "I think you know the answer, little one. I wish it wasn’t like this either. I’m sorry for introducin’ you to this.”

Alex’s hands slid up and down your back, gripping the fabric and holding you tightly against him. Your sigh was one of relief, drawn out, so sweet. He cupped your chin, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your cheeks were damp, and he offered a small, uncomfortable smile.

“It’s okay,” you said weakly, trying to sound more composed than you felt. “It’s not your fault, Turner. I don’t think that, and I don’t regret being here with you. I’m just scared of everything that’s going to come with this, especially since I never really thought about it before.” Your words seemed distant, but even in your emotional state, you were eloquent.

Alex didn’t know exactly what to expect either; things had changed since 2008. He remembered the Humbug era being the worst, with all the attention from MTV. His tongue rested on the roof of his mouth as your fingers found a home at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at the fine hairs, much like you do with the hem of your shirt when you’re anxious. It soothed you. Your eyes lowered to his chest, and you realized it was the first time you’d hugged him this longer, and he was shirtless. You liked everything about it—the warmth and the view you had.

He pulled the collar of your shirt toward him, bringing your face closer until his tiny beard tickled your skin. You looked at him, and he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring right into your soul. You were beautiful with your red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Understanding what you were going through, he got you whispering amidst the chaos of finding the right words, “I can’t mess this up, Tur.”

He focused on your words, though he wanted to pull you into him even more, but he resisted, waiting for you to continue. “I want this too, I just don’t want you to think less of me, okay?” Your eyes welled up again, and as soon as you tried to lower your head, he gently lifted it back up, fully aware of what you were trying to convey. “I don’t want you to think I’m like this just because I’m interested in you. I don’t want you to see me as…” You paused, struggling with the words. He simply rested his forehead against yours, holding your face gently in his hands.

“I don’t think anything bad ‘bout you, lil’ one. I’ve never thought that way, and these are just your worries, you got me? Nothing changes the fact that I think you’re talented and competent, huh? That has nothing to do with how I see you as a professional. You don’t have to be afraid of that.” He was firm, his voice louder than usual. You took in every word, noting the roughness of his tone and the space between his lack of manners with sentences. He swallowed hard, his mouth slightly open, and you appreciated how patient he was with you, how well he seemed to understand that you needed this moment. Your fingers tightened on his, and then your lips met his. It was slow, and though you felt like you lacked experience, it was warm. He pulled you closer, every inch of you molding to him.

You started to pull away, embarrassed, feeling like maybe this wasn’t meant for you, but as soon as your lips began to leave his, he tugged your collar, bringing you back for a more urgent kiss, making it clear he had been waiting for this for a long time. You leaned back slightly, but he held you firmly, sensing how your body was softening against him. He chuckled into the kiss, and you felt his velvety tongue against yours, slowly being enveloped by wet, lingering kisses. The taste was salty from tears and the sea, you laughed at the thought of him being seasoned.

You brushed his fringe away, noticing how his cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen. You wanted more. You realized your brain hadn’t fully registered what it felt like to have his beard brushing against your face.

“Was it bad?” you asked, your voice barely audible. You couldn’t help but think about how Alex had been with many other women, while you could count on one hand the people you’d kissed in your life.

“Do you talk when you’re nervous?” His warm breath brushed against your skin, close enough to be unsettling. Before you could answer, he planted soft kisses on your lips, still making a slight sound and lingering just a bit. He tasted of mint, not quite of cigarettes. The tip of his nose grazed yours, and the subtle stubble on his face slid pleasantly against your cheek. When he pulled back, your natural reaction was to lean forward for more, which he didn’t resist, a playful smile on his lips as he let you set the pace. Your fingers seemed made for his hair, and Alex was sure of it. By the end, you were breathless, though he wasn’t quite as much.

“Okay, I need to breathe...through my nose while doing this.” He chuckled, pulling you close for a hug. You felt at ease with him, talking out of nerves, but it was clear it didn’t bother you. He liked that. “It’s not bad at all. It’s actually wonderful, pet.” He touched your nose and cheeks, his fingers tracing every feature, wanting to soak in each detail of you. “You’re beautiful,” he said. You nodded. He struggled to figure out if the way your eyes fluttered when he spoke to you like that was because of his voice or his compliments, yet he was determined to keep drawing those reactions from you.

He ran his calloused fingers up your thigh, stopping at your hips, squeezing them hard. Your nails dug into his shoulders in anticipation as your legs parted briefly, giving him better access and also making the fabric of your shirt give him more of a view. The bottom of your bikini was tight, very tight, leaving a mark on your skin and he ran his fingertips over the spot. You looked at him, thinking about how no one had ever looked at you like that; the mix of desire and actually seeing you as something more than that. You had written about it before, but never experienced it, and so you wondered about the possibility of Alex acting like that because he knew your writing. However, you didn't want to think badly of him, you wanted to enjoy it.

His gaze rose to meet yours, his tongue moistening his lips and the crease between his eyebrows deepening, was it fair that that alone made you wet? He didn't need to say anything, you confirmed what he wanted.

The attention lingered on your face, your heart racing at the serenity of how he undid the ties, getting rid of the piece. You couldn't move, taken by how delicate he was and his eyes on you didn't do the same, even though he didn't fail to contemplate you.

“Turner,” it was like a sob, a tiny sharp. His fingers touched your center, sighing as a way of savoring the moment, then he sank a little deeper, smearing his fingers and spreading them from your entrance to your clit to improve the sensation.

“It's all right, princess, I'm right ‘ere. I've got you, but we've got all the time in the world, so let's be patient, you're with me?" Each word was breathy and soft, difficult for you to string together, but you still repeated his last name in a pleading whisper.

He brushed two of his fingers against you, one of your legs lifting and bending at the knees, he laughed at your reactions but it was adorable, even though he was nothing much but his dark orbs. Respecting your body, he plunged his fingers deeper, sliding in easily. Your body gave in, your hands supporting you back and your moans getting hotter, you felt tighter but it still felt good.

"Relax, lil’ one. You can lie down, everything's fine, huh? You can just relax, no thoughts." His accent, full of patience, so familiar yet made you swallow hard. Alex’s fingers were damp, all along their length, carrying that blissful energy that comes with youth. Certainly, it could be said that you were not so used to that, the gap between doing something and thinking about it was great, given your state you had fantasized about it a few times; maybe you expected something he couldn't give you, but he was there for you.

He felt like an exception, he wasn't so young anymore, but he was acting like one. His fingers slid, you swallowed them completely, until your legs trembled a bit and he pulled back, only to repeat it all over again. He was touching you, getting to know you, and thinking about how he would be tasting your juices on his tongue in a few seconds, getting you ready to have him inside of you without any concern... He throbbed with each glimpse.

He couldn't deny that he had fantasized about you too, how he wanted to corrupt you while you were wearing your usual spaghetti strap dresses, hike them up to your waist and just pull down his pants to take you in the studio, have your voice fade away while instruments were thrown to the floor. He would get heavy, swollen with sensitivity in his underwear when he thought about you from time to time, refusing to do anything that bordered on disrespect, and even if he failed, he followed a ritual in his light groping, looking for relief, without letting himself get there as punishment. He never felt right thinking about you that way, but it seemed like a plausible moment to let himself be reminded of it.

Your eyes were closed, your face to the ceiling, your head pressed into the mattress in agony. You weren't expecting it, but your muscles clenched tighter into the sheets, this was new; you knew what it was, it just had never been like this. There were brief kisses on your wetness, noisy and messy, his hair brushed against your thigh and his hands were firmly on you. You had never seen yourself without thinking about anything, not literally, but your senses only hovered over how to be good for Turner so he could make you feel great.

For Alex, it was better than he remembered imagining. It was hard to breathe when all he could do was focus on keeping going, listening to your sweet whimpers for more. The vivid scent of peach filled his senses, your taste taking over his consciousness, everything felt so good.

He sank his tongue, contracting it hard so that it dissolved inside you and felt in honor how you dripped down the sides of his mouth. He held the edges of your shirt tightly, pushing you closer to him, his nose brushing against your clit while his whole face rubbed all over your folds with desire. Your fingers tightened in his hair, gripping hard as you called out his name, the words barely coherent. You focused on him with a dazed expression, your gaze hazy and unfocused. His face was serene, eyes closed in deep enjoyment, completely immersed in your taste. You shifted a little, although he soon forced you against the mattress so you wouldn't do that, wanting to feel his beard hurt your skin. In fact, boys your age, or at least your experiences, did that very quickly, as an obligation. Alex was not a boy.

"You're so addictive," your throat was dry. Alex hadn't even done half of what he had in mind with you; and you certainly couldn't handle it.

He turned his face away due to your trembling knees, holding your gaze to his. He wanted you to get there, but in another way. Still, he watched you as he pressed only the tips of his fingers on your clit, without movements other than those of your hips. “So smart and charming, is there anything you can't do?” You pulsed, electric current going through your entire body.

You didn't know what to do, your cheeks were burning and you could only moisten your lips, wanting the agonizing knot to disappear.

“Turner,” he laughed, the same nasal sound you loved. It was like a mantra, the repetition of the drawn-out last name coming out of you and the cocky laugh. “Please, I need it, I need you, Tur.”

He nodded, stiff and sore in his shorts, then stood up and pulled them off. He didn’t look in a hurry to you, it gave you a headache, but he was nice to look at; his pale skin, his slim waist, his shoulders red from your scratches and his reddened length. He was hot and well-endowed, good enough to make your mouth water.

"Have you done this before?" His friendly tone made you hate your thoughts, and also question if you actually had. His cheeks were flushed, as were his lips, and he swallowed hard while looking at you. You felt a bit embarrassed. "It's okay if you haven't, princess." You smiled softly, shaking your head. "A few times, but it was never good. But this time, it is." Alex understood; he didn't judge you and never would. He ran his hand through your hair, brushing it away from your face, then gently tugged at the collar of your shirt, pulling it slightly away from your skin. "Are your songs not based on your experiences?" You feared he might think that was a bad thing, but his voice didn't carry any judgment. "No..." You sighed, content with his touch and his body pressed to yours. "I don't think I've ever truly experienced love, at least not directly. But I like writing about how I hope it will be." His eyes were a bit misty, and he nodded. He found that meaning beautiful; it was a perspective he hadn't considered before. He didn't feel so distant from that, since he wrote about things he'd witnessed. "It's beautiful. You do it really well.”

He opened the buttons, one by one, taking his time. He revealed your body to him little by little, admiring your collarbone, the curve of your breasts and stomach. His lips touched every nuance, leaving a wet trail and a bite on the flesh below your perky nipple. You writhed with a shrill noise, your legs clinging to him, ready to feel him as he brushed against your thigh. Alex also moaned every now and then, much more restrained and full-bodied, so hoarse.

He held your face to him, preventing you from turning away. The weight of his body felt good, everything about Alex felt like being enveloped in calm; even though you didn't expect calm at that moment. He opened his mouth, perhaps as thirsty as you were, his tongue on the roof of his mouth, staring at you. Slow and precise, you had your muscles soften as he got warm and tight inside you. You swallowed greedily, wet as never before, taking every inch of him.

“Good pet, good girl.” You held onto him tighter, your eyes watering. He held your head, snuggling you close to him. "You're doing great, you're such a good girl, right? Focus on how I'm inside you, filling you to the brim, can you feel me, lil’ one?” He was hoarser, unavoidable not to pay attention. His voice really calmed you down, making it work, your legs rested slowly and you noticed he was more comfortable in you; fitting better.

He held your hand on top of your head, intertwining your fingers, letting you squeeze tightly. Your body rocked on the bed with the rhythm of his hips, the movement was slow, he let his entire length come out of you like that and then pressed harder so you could accommodate him all the way into your lower tummy. It was good, warm, it made you think of more and more until you felt your belly tingle. Alex had a prominent crease, his pink lips parted and he gasped along with you every time your bones collided. Unable to hold back, he sped up, letting you whisper a painful, "Thank you," which made him release your hand, gripping your wrist violently as his forehead fell onto your shoulder. You stained the back of his neck with bruises, wanting your fist to come out the same way.

Your hot breath came in short gasps, you tried to be coherent in shyly mumbling that he could come inside you; wanting to have him fill you to the last drop until you were exhausted. Which wouldn't be a problem, you took your precautions up to date.

The intensity of his body on yours was growing, similar to the arrival of guitar solos in a chorus; you had to close your eyes, really paying attention to how your walls squeezed him inside you. Your firm thighs around him, added to the strength with which he thrusted you, caused friction on your clit and you were becoming aware of your limits. You felt Alex hug you again, delicate arms around you, wetting your shirt in soft moans as he filled you warmly. The sensation, the noise, everything connected made you relieve yourself too, in a relaxation of having both liquids mixing, ready to run out of you. He slowed down, keeping the same ritual, making you feel your thighs sticky until he realized you were getting too sensitive with tears filling your pretty eyes, and it was better to stop.

There was the familiar, comfortable silence that always settled between you two, both of you immersed in each other's presence. The embrace was gentle yet firm. He was comfy, still inside you, pulsing a bit, but good. His hand moved in meaningful circles on your back, and you mirrored the motion on his arm. His hair was a mess, and you imagined yours probably was too. His swollen lips drew in air as before, making you contemplate the way his tongue rested against the roof of his mouth.

"Can you lick me, Tur?" You asked comfortably given the situation, feeling good all over his touch.

He ran his hand over your chin, looking at you, not finding it bad. You hesitated when you asked, but it seemed inevitable. He moistened his lips, touching the tip of his tongue to your mouth, right on the lower one, holding your face firmly and doing what you said. The velvety, wet touch ran down your lip and into your mouth, which made you smile slightly, holding him for a kiss. It was good, you had imagined that. He sucked your lip to himself, in a somewhat messy act of saliva, and you wanted to do it more often.

“You good?” It was a genuine intimacy, right after a few minutes of nothing but the pure sound of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. You couldn’t help but wonder if this would affect how professional he thought you were—after all, he was your mentor—but you didn’t want to bring that up now. Similarly, feeling the way his shirt clung to your body, brushing against his skin and stealing your scent, he wondered the same thing, afraid you might truly believe you weren’t talented enough due to the internet and that this had only made things worse in your mind. Yet, he didn’t know what to say; the silence felt safe. "I’m okay, Tur. Tired, but I don’t want to think about songs, albums, or what we’ll do in an hour right now." You nestled closer to him, kissing his cheek softly, then his neck. Your voice was laced with tears, and he wasn’t sure if it was about what happened minutes ago or the issue with the paparazzi, but he understood that you were vulnerable. He felt guilty, still processing everything. "I’m not going to leave you, little one. I’ll be ‘ere, to deal with this and remind you how good you are." He whispered into your hair that smelled of peaches. You believed him, and he made you see a future in all of this.

You could have him on the cover of your album.

...

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[aegoniiwifey]

Anon who requested the chubbydaddy!aegon and his daughter <3 you did my request justice and way more I'm obsessed- I literally reread it like ten times I love it. Also another chubbydaddy!aegon request: Aegon getting requests to court/ wed his precious girl, and he ignores them all, ignores what the Small Council wants, etc and goes to her after a long day, letting her ride his belly, then breeding, then cumplay, and whatever your genius mind comes up with <3

Wanna Be Yours

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x daughter!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,944.

WARNINGS: incest, swearing, angst, breeding kink, praise kink, stomach riding, cum play, titty sucking, p in v sexual intercourse. indented parts are previous scenes.

A/N - I am so so sorry for responding so late, I took a little hiatus with tumblr and am starting to find my rhythm again. I absolutely adore this trope and your ideas. so happy you enjoyed the first piece, it was an absolute privilege to write! hope this is just what you imagined also xx

Apologies I have not reread this as I finished work and my eyes are about to shut! will proof read tomorrow ♥️

credit to my beloved BOOBIE @bnb-atnite for making this godly image of my man CHUBBY! ilysm!

"Your Grace, it is highly frowned upon by the Seven that you wed your daughter! We have given many exceptions to your ancestors for upholding their queer customs, but this- This arrangement we do not condone!"

Aegon's deep exhale as his eyes darkly snapped towards the elderly maester, was enough to silence the room with his palpable vehemence. He was beyond tired and irritated by the constant nagging of his esteemed Council, of their blatant disapproval of their King's intentions to wed his beloved... His only surviving blood, his daughter.

Throughout the war, Aegon had grown insatiably protective of you: in addition to having a special place in his heart as his eldest born, you remained the last remaining figure in his previous life, despite his mother and himself. As your grandmother silently fell into madness, in the privacy of her chambers, where she preferred to seclude herself, Aegon had no other person he soulfully cherished than you. And as he was to you, the feelings had become reciprocated. Your father loved you dearly: since becoming of age, a young, matured woman, his advances had grown more intimate and lubricious. You owed him your life, and wished nothing more than to devote yourself to him. No man could have done what he did for you...

"It is done, Maester Orwyle... I will wed my daughter in the ancient traditions of our House, if it be the last damned thing I do. I am the fucking King!" Aegon loudly asserted, slamming his pudgy hand against the solid, wooden tabletop, as his words simmered the Council into a fright.

Aegon was known for his temper, although it took a great deal for him to raise his voice: he was a stubborn man at that, also...

"My dearest, what is it? What have they done now that troubles you so, hmm?"

Aegon defeatedly relinquishes in the wooden rocking chair by the stoking fire: it’s orange-red tinged flames being the only source of light emitting in the room.

You walk up behind your father, his face stern and unmoving besides his closed eyes as his hand rubbed at his temples. Your hands find their way to his broad, thick shoulders, giving them a gentle massage as you knead the tension.

“So-So tense, my beloved. Tell me what is wrong, so that I may be of some help. Let me ease your mind, Daddy.”

Aegon’s shrugging shoulders said plentiful, as he opened his eyes once more, head turning slightly to its side so that you were in his peripheral vision.

“There is nothing to be sorted, my love. I am to wed you, and as their rightful King, it is my final word above all else. Those elderly cunts can yap all they want. I will have you.”

With his final word, a yearning flare brews between your thighs, aching for one particular thing. Your father always had a way with words, especially with you.

“Is that so?” You teasingly utter, as you straddle yourself comfortably on his lap. Your arms grip the overarching wooden frame of the chair as you swiftly lift yourself up, before plopping back down, although this time elevated by your father’s overgrown, rotund belly.

Your earliest, core memories of your father had always been admiring him at feasts and family dinners. He never denied himself a hearty meal, and his grand appetite never ceased during the war. Inevitably, as the years went by and his youth disappeared the weight remained and latched on with each mouthful. The intimate moments your attention would linger onto him, as he savoured each bite, the way he'd unashamedly lick the grease and crumbs off his chubby fingers, even off the rings that had fit him a time before... Now that he had sized up immensely, most treasures and clothes that he had worn, he had rapidly outgrown. None of his rings could go beyond the tips of his fingers, and he was in great denial about it, refusing to resize until you had convinced him otherwise. The way he had often rubbed his aching, bloated belly: swollen beneath the restricting fabric, a somewhat elevated and satisfied look strewed across his handsome, fat face as he would pat himself proudly.

"But I want Daddy all to myself. I want Daddy to fight the whole realm for me, if he has to. Can Daddy do that for me?" You utter closely into his hear, your hot breath dense against his earlobe: after hastily hiking your skirt up [wearing nothing below, as you instinctively anticipated this precise moment], you unbuttoned his top garment, only to expose his rotund, plush belly. The handful of rolls engulfing his sides, the grip-able hips that accentuated his width, streaked with raw, red stretch marks all across his love handles and lower belly. His tits were double your size, nipples sensitive under your gentle touch, even a flick of his nipple was enough to make him moan. It made you flustered, the sheer sight in evidence of your father's blatant growth... And he had no shame in admitting it.

"Of course, baby. Anything for my sweet, little princess. Daddy would burn the entire realm if he has to for you... I'll repopulate the world with my princess, if needs be."

With each of his longing words, you pressed yourself down deeper, sinking your bare cunt further against his naked belly, causing him to whimper. His pudgy hands found their way beneath your layered gown, each palm rested atop your cheeks, firmly cupping and squeezing at your flesh.

"My princess knows just what to do, to make her Daddy happy, huh? My only joy in life, is you."

Your grinding rhythmic, the pace begins to quicken with excitement, as your throbbing cunt becomes moist, the wetness stirring and oozing beneath, against the warm friction. As your cum coats his smooth fat, slowly it becomes more tolerable.

"I-I just wanna make m-my Daddy proud- D-Daddy can s-say whatever, a-and I'll do as I'm t-told-"

"Is that so?" His mimicking voice, a deep growl wretched from his throat, as his hands find their strength, shoving you deeper against his swallowing frame. He always admired how tiny you appeared in comparison to him, how fragile it made you look. He rejoiced it was a symbol of how he could protect you, that he was your shelter.

"Daddy wants to fuck Princess senseless, all night long. Fill my Princess up with my hot, hot seed until I'm certain she takes. Daddy wants Princess to swell with his child, and show her off to the realm. That the babe kicking in her belly, is all his undoing, hmm."

"A-Anything for Daddy- Just f-fuck me, Aeg-"

Although it drove Aegon wild to hear you mindlessly moan and whisper Daddy, something in particular, whenever you called him by his name, would often trigger something more insatiable in him. He could devour you in the spot, like some afternoon tea honey cake, whenever you spoke of his true name.

"Undo my pants-" Immediately without sparing a thought more, you obeyed. As Aegon's plump belly expanded over his thick, wide lap, his portly fat pad beneath had somewhat engulfed his cock. It made it difficult for him to even try to locate or masturbate himself. For now, you had both learnt tricks to overcome the obstacle, having your father lean in a certain angle, as you put in the effort to locate his fat, hard cock, plunging it deep between your walls.

As he tried to reposition himself with great difficulty, in the faint space left remaining in the seat with you atop: breathless by the end of all the moving, you managed to pluck out his cock. The sheer sight and tension beneath your gentle stroking grip, its reddened, blush tip oozing with a sheer-white, translucent reside, palpating with excitement.

"Don't keep Daddy waiting, Princess. I need to feel your walls take my cock. Make you so fucking full of me, I'll make you a human waterfall."

The raw feeling of his cock between your inner walls, clenching to adjust to its girthy, solid size: although it could no longer delve as deep as it used to, the friction of his fat pad against your clit, and the pressure of his mass against your lower stomach, made it invigorating nonetheless.

"Th-That's it, Princess. S-So tight for me. All fucking mine, and the w-whole world will know it-"

"Y-Yes, Daddy-"

"If I need to fuck you with the eyes of the Court watching, I will."

As means to muffle your moans and loud pleas for Aegon, bashfully mindful of the servants and Kingsguard stationed beyond the inches of the door outside, your mouth latched onto Aegon's porky tits.

Suckling at his tender flesh, as your tongue licked at his nipple, causing him to wince and growl in eager approval, one hand left your ass cheek, gripping close your bucking hips, and found its way snaking behind your back, before pulling at your loose hair.

Tightly tugging at the free strands, mottling between his pudgy fingers, he once more, gave gentle encouragement, shoving your face down deeper against his tubby chest.

"F-Fuck Y/N. S-So impressed by Daddy, huh, Princess? You keep going at this rate, I'll be making my own damn milk for you and the babes."

Noticing the glistening residue of your cum spilled across his rolls and paunchy stomach, his other hand cleaned the mess up over with his bare hand. Before hungrily licking off your wetness with his tongue, licking his hand clean free.

"Delicious."

With his heavy, dense weight keeping him pinned down against the chair, he made no effort to thrust himself inside as he once jovially could. Alternatively, the chair swayed with his potent motions, as he would subtly buck his ample hips forward into your frame.

"My sweet, beautiful girl is gonna cum already. I can feel you swallow my cock whole, your walls suffocating my cock. Take me, princess, take it all-"

With the finish of his words, signalling his epitome, Aegon shot his hot, fresh seed into you: warmly coating your inner walls, as your own wetness gushed over his eager, hard cock. Catching a minute to regain your breaths and thoughtless mind, you lifted yourself off, and instantly the mess began to pool across your inner thighs.

Almost on cue or from impressive instinct, Aegon began to scoop at your inner thighs, sensitive from his touch, its abrupt presence startled you.

"Did I not teach you about letting things go to waste, baby? Never let this out. This is as precious as Valyrian steel. I ought to keep you plugged up with my cock..."

The tips of his fat fingers tease at the entrance of your folds, softly tracing over your stained, painful walls: impressed with your sudden shiver and moan, his deep chuckle left you feeling reminiscent of your first time. How nervous you felt, inexperienced against your father's wit.

"I-I want this to take. I want to have as many babes as the Gods see fit with you, Aeg... I want to swell healthily with child, and give you the heir you want... As many as you desire-"

As one fo your hands remained nestled against his chest, tracing soft, random lines against the crevices of his rolls: the other travelled its way to his face, pushing aside a random strand of hair, away from his handsome, fuller face.

"I want our sons to be the spitting image of their father, and our daughter's kind like their grandmother... Will Daddy fuck me day and night, to make my wish come true, hmm?"

"Of course..."

credit for dividers - @/valeskafics

[phantom-sleuth]

Wanted to make a rec post about a bunch of random sci-fi manga i like and hope that others enjoy as well.

Dead Dead Demons Dededede Destruction:

A story about 2 young women in their day to day lives as a giant alien ship looms over Tokyo. A fair bit of the story focuses modern social political issues in Japan and the mystery surrounding the mothership and the aliens and why they are there.

The series will get two movie adaptations later this year.

Dai Dark:

The story mainly revolves zaha sanko and how a legend exist that if one gets ahold of his bones they will have any wish granted to them, and so sanko needs to search through space in order to find whoever put this curse on him and kill them. The manga is made by Q Hayashida and features a very gritty world with very goofy and fun characters.

Battle Angel Alita/Gunnm:

A story mostly about a cyborg with a sense for battle wanting to fin her origins after crashing on earth. The series has 3 entries so far with the third being on hiatus sadly, the 3 series being Alita battle angel, baa last order and baa mars chronicle. However the series has excellent art a very good story and great action.

It currently has a 1993 anime and a live action movie

20th Century Boys

The story revolves around a group of adults who in their youth created a symbol to represent their friendship which is then used by some malevolent character called friend in the future for his own cult and his goal to take over the world. With most of the story being about trying to recall who he may be and how to stop his plot. Its a VERY story and dialogue heavy series, but its all worth it once everything starts clicking.

it has a short sequel series that contains the ending of the actual series called "21st century boys"

Pluto

Made by the same person as 20th century boys Naoki urasawa, its an adaptation of "the greatest robot on earth" story with its own unique spin. Its about the ongoing murders of the seven most powerful robots on earth. It deals in a lot of stuff about the sentience of the robots and their rights.

It currently has a full anime adaptation on netflix.

Planetes

A lot of the story mainly focuses on the struggles and relationships of the main characters with space mainly being a backdrop. Its a very interpersonal story and i can't really do it justice by just describing it so i recommend reding or watching it yourself.

It also has a full anime adaptation.

10,000 light year binoculars

This one is just a oneshot but i enjoyed it so much that i really had to rec it. Its about an alien girl with binoculars that allow her to spy on a boy on earth from her own planet and wanting to meet him someday. The entire oneshot is in color, the art is great AND its short.

Star tripper: Planetarium Ghost Travel

A very comfy manga that only recently stared to get fantranslated. Its about a guy called 303 going to "ghost planets where most of the inhabitants have gone into a deep sleep and turned into trees.

Heavenly Delusion/Tengoku Daimakyou

And finally Heavenly, it has two concurrent plotlines with the first one being about a boy and a girl going through a post apocalyptic Japan looking for "new heaven", while the second is about a group a kids in a sterile facility wanting to go explore outside the walls of said facility.

It has an anime that covers the first 5 volumes.

And those are all my sci-fi recs for the moment!!! Hope someone finds something new to enjoy of these here. apologies if the writing ain't the best i wrote this at like 3 am.

[floradinterlunium]

SINCE I'VE BEEN GONE . . .

I took an extended vacation from "journalling" and documenting my thoughts regarding Jikook and fandom shenanigans because I wanted to take my hiatus when the fandom seas had been calmed and all was right with the world, justice had been served. I left on this high note...I naively believed that with Jikook traveling together and moreover enlisting together, all this drama regarding who JK prefers or loves more would would cease and desist. Oh to be young an naive!

For the life of me I cannot understand this fandom!!! If they can't NOW accept that Jikook are hands down, without a doubt, no questions asked the closest members in BTS and man KPOP history than there's no hope fore them!

Because I just can't wrap my mind around fandom logic regarding Jikook . . .

Jungkook 2023

Goes live a kagillion times to gush about JM,

straight up become a JM reaction channel,

begs JM consistently to hang with him, do lives with him, box with

gets giddy whenever JM replied in the chat

brings up JM every chance he gets

Shows us how familiar his boxing coach is with JM

Goes live whenever JM leaves the country

Dog scratches JM on the arm because they were together

Willingly cosigns JMs travel show plan even though a lot of it occured during his busy promotion season

Fandom: Jikook are dead and were never that close!

JM 2023

Plans this whole travel show with JK (no one else mind you not Rm, not Tae. . .)

Travels to different cities with JK, while JK's promoting his album so busy and probably tired, to film travel show

Talks about how he (in 2023) would spend hoooours drinking and discussing music with JK

Shows up with a massive scratch mark on his arm clearly from JK's dog

Discusses how poor Yoongi became a third wheel because they have a tendency to go into their own world and get "deep" when together

Fandom: 2023 shows us Jikook were never close

Jikook 2023

In an unprecedented move, Enlist together through the buddy system-a system that mandates they have to spend their entire service together...they can't even take leave separately. A choice they both made and wanted to make of their own free will.

Fandom: This proves they aren't together because in the military they can't be gay and have sex.

Tae

Hangs out with JK with his wooga squad

Leaves JK alone on a MTN

Post about spending time with JK

Post pics of him with JK

Ask JK to go live with him and proceeds to have a silent awkward as hell live where they barely talk to each other

Fandom: OMG they are soulmates HYBE is finally letting them be their authentic selves

JK

Goes to a movie with Tae and his squad

Goes Snowboarding with Tae's wooga squad but they ditch him

Goes live looking lonely and sad as hell all the time

Goes live for white day looking sad

Seems to be going through a crisis...even JM says he needs to get out more

Talks about JM a lot in his lives

Goes to Hawaii and goes skydiving with Tae

Fandom: OMG OMG JK must really love Tae to get on a plane and fly nearly 10hrs to see him. No one can deny their bond now

***Should someone remind them that JM already did that for JK's bday (which Tae wasn't present for) and they minimized it. Or oooh oooh should someone also remind them that JK gifted JM with a whole ass all expense paid birthday trip to his dream destination, went broke doing it, and then made a whole vlog about that trip that only showed JM's face set to the tune of a romantic love song?? Something that they also claimed was not a big deal! ***

WHY DID I COME BACK TO THIS!!!

[everythingelseisextra]

MASTERLIST

I am open to requests at the moment!

click the above to see my rules and resources :)

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Oneshots:

Those Nights: On clear nights, you choose to leave your bed with Tommy and watch the stars. A miscommunication is made, and a new routine is born from it.

Casual: A panic attack sends you and Tommy into surprising vulnerability. Hurt/comfort with some fluff at the end

Sometime Around Midnight: After separating, Tommy sees you at a banquet. Poetic Justice: You meet Tommy Shelby on his way to war, finding a cheerful and happy young man. A few years later, he returns to you, drastically different.

Multi-Chapter Fics

The Women Of Birmingham (On Hiatus)

Only The Wild Ones (Active): Your whole life, you've been running, desperately seeking safety from a past you want to forget. You spend your time working yourself into exhaustion, then getting up the next day to do it all again. When a powerful but vulnerable Thomas Shelby comes into the picture, you're convinced, for once in your life, to stand and fight.

Reading Lists:

August 2023

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Will you tell me why batman is a gateway drug? I like your Batman Year 1 Selena blog banner.

my default good answer is that Batman is gateway drug to giving a shit about comics, a fate I would not wish on anyone

um but actually the URL is a reference to the fact that I joined Tumblr because of Batman! I was a huuuuge Team StarKid fan as a teenager and when they announced they were doing a Batman parody musical I started learning about the character so I could get the jokes in the show, because all of my previous Batman exposure pretty much boiled down to Robin in Teen Titans and a couple BTAS crossovers with Static Shock. (sidebar: I LOVED Static Shock as a kid, that was my shit.) and then I got super into the Young Justice animated series (CRINGE) and while season 2 was on hiatus I joined Tumblr to see what other fans are up to.

and then I accidentally became a sex educator and the rest is history.

[prettyboykatsuki]

after hours | jing yuan.

✮ tags ; this reads fucked up but everything is consensual !!, petplay but its fucked up, muzzles / leashes, masc + afab!reader petnames (mutt, stupid pretty boy), reader is described vaugely as scarred / muscular but it's part of their job, vibrators, humiliation / mild degradation (he is a bit demeaning) assassin/special forces reader, general jing yuan, imbalanced power dynamics, they are LOVERS.

✮ wc ; 2.1k (sorry)

✮ a/n ; i am still on writing hiatus i promise i just. i promise i am. i think this is the most psychologically revealing thing ive written since april.

✮ synopsis ; general jing yuan likes his pets well trained.

General Jing Yuan has few rules for his sub-ordinates, but he is only especially strict on one.

If, by chance, there is reason for them to be boarded in the same quarters - do not disturb him after hours.

Jing Yuan is a wise man, and a good leader. He leads with care. He does not focus too heavily on the strictness of military - though he thinks it's a good thing for young men to have that sort of structure. Especially if they are without cause. Like love or family.

Men without reason or purpose go on to cause havoc across the known world. It is whims of evil, lacking true virtue that Jing Yuan finds most intolerable to deal with. Even so, while structure and order is necessary to wield power, he is not especially keen on enforcing it too greatly.

A soldiers life is dictated by his willingness to live despite the odds, if only to fight to the end. To end up under his leadership thus, is proof enough of their trustworthiness.

When the one rule he is strict on is broken - he can only assume the state of emergency.

He looks at you, chained and muzzled, near growling. Noisy thing you are. He wraps the chain around your neck with a deep, cumbersome sigh. Pulling you up to him, he whispers against your cheek with a huff of mild annoyance.

"Wait here, boy."

He slides the door behind him and opens another one. A young cloud-knight, bright-eyed and fearsome - bows his head in respect. His commanding officers must've sent him to teach him a lesson.

"General Jing Yuan," Jing Yuan is impressed he hasn't stuttered.

"At ease. I suspect there's been some emergency since you've come to my chambers at the hours I strictly forbid," He says, arms crossed over bare chest.

"Yes, General. Th-there's been an issue with the interference mission. We c-can't get in touch with the commander of the operation and the signal has been cut completely."

Jing Yuan rubs his chin with thumb and forefinger.

"If they've been infiltrated, it's on our best action to wait. Focus on re-establishing the signal by any means. If more than 48 hours pass, we'll send reinforcements then."

"Yes, General. Order received."

Jing Yuan nods, waving a hand.

"'Be on your way. And do not disturb me again until morning."

The solider returns on his wave, and Jing Yuan shuts the door with another sigh before returning to his bedroom.

Truly, he doesn't like being disturbed at times like this. Enacting justice and punishment is a task that requires attention.

He is, most pleased by the sight in front him. You're bent over on his floor, waiting impatiently. The heavy chain of a leash coiled around your throat, face pushed into the soft fabrics laid out underneath you - an act of forgiveness. What kind of Master would he be to lay you out on the marble? On your knees and elbows, a pillow under you and something pushed soft against your clit.

Jing Yuan returns to the seat he had placed in front of you. It's hard these days, for him to find this kind of excitement.

Yes, it is most pleasing to see you like this. A dog, an animal of war - chained up at his feet with a nasty anger tucked between your maw. You are fine to look at. Scars and muscle, fingers bruised from being broken over and over.

You never quite learn how to behave yourself. A man without reason, a being with so much pride it overflows. He reaches his hand to your hair and gathers it, enough to tug you up.

He grins at the sight. Tear-stained and so wounded with desire you can't stand to your feet, a pathetic quality to you that makes Jing Yuan want to dote on you. You glare at him and the gesture does little to soften his want.

Jing Yuan is thankful at times, that his relationship to you is unofficial. That you are his mercenary, his spear - and not his subordinate. He has no desire to treat you fairly.

"I haven't been gone long," He muses, hand tightening if only to see you flinch "And I see you in this state. What happened to your fortitude?"

With this, Jing Yuan joins you on the ground. He sits with his legs cross and maneuvers you, swift as he positions you over his lap. You are naked and drooling and so angry, so tied up in your emotion that you can only glare.

Jing Yuan's desire to treat you affectionately, it born from a greater desire to discipline.

To an untrained eye, it may not be easy to recognize. But you, who always carries death and always tastes of iron, must be disciplined in ways that are unordinary. Jing Yuan must show you shame. Dominance through the plagues of embarrassment.

If Jing Yuan were a fool, he would fight you. You are a formidable opponent even for him.

But he is the wise, and knowing. This is an eaiser way to get you to act in accordance to his wishes.

"What's become of you?" He teases and you gasp. He taps the machine attached to your clit, making you collapse over his shoulder "This much sensation and you're drooling."

You are younger than Jing Yuan. Most people are. Still, he cannot treat you to accordance of this fact - not when you whine through your throat. The anger is dissipating slowly in you. You show relief when he turns it off, tossing the little bullet to one side.

He replaces it with his hands - his fingers rub softly. Your nerves are overstimulated, nails digging into his shoulder. You stare at him hard, iron of the muzzle gone hot as you push against his mouth. You want to bite, of course you do. But you can't.

"If you behaved better I would've let you do as you please," He hums, middle finger rubbing through your folds - so wet it drips. Calm, loving - but disciplinary all the same. You are so aroused it is almost shameful "Let you stake your claim on your general as you pleased. As your superior, it is my job to reward you."

"Yet you've killed our important informant, and it is also my job to punish you accordingly," He says, amused. He isn't as careful as he should be, sticks his fingers far into your cunt. It welcomes him so readily. He grins to himself, just a little "And so this too, is for your own good."

You shake above him, still angry. Less so. Jing Yuan gives you a look.

"Do you understand me?"

"Am I permitted to speak, you bastard?" You spit, though the words don't carry the same weight when they are spoken breathlessly.

"You've done well not to thus far," He says, easier this time - curling his fingers and pushing against the squishy, spongy part inside of you that leaves you trembling under his touch "I've asked you a question."

"And why should I have to answer to that?"

"Because, sword of mine," He says, thrusting his fingers hard enough that you bend. The pleasure washes over you, and you're so unlike yourself you nearly break. "I'm more than willing to leave you in this sorry state."

You give him a challenging look, an angry you wouldn't dare. Jing Yuan returns it with one of amusement, a lazy smile as if to answer are you willing to take the risk?

The truth, unbeknownst to you, is merely that he wouldn't. He would have to restrain himself in order to punish you thoroughly. You are a follower of instinct and sensation, so Jing Yuan can foresee your answer.

"I understand, you annoying prick."

Jing Yuan stares at you. You freeze then grit your teeth.

"I understand, General."

"Your hands are free," Jing Yuan whispers as he leaves you, caressing your cheek with his thumb, over a raised white scar "Use them."

Jing Yuan watches with utter delight as you undo his robe. How your hands come up to undo the comfortable confines. To tug at his boxers and free his cock. How your hands - hands that have committed violence so unspeakable, tremble like a flower in the breeze trying to touch him. You wrap your palm around his shaft unsteadily. Jing Yuan puts his hand ontop of yours. Intimate, full to the brim with excitement.

"Are you just going to touch it?"

You flush up to your ears. Jing Yuan leans close.

"A mutt like you should know very well how to sit,"

You glare but it urges you forward. Jing Yuan watches, half lust and half amusement as you lean forward slightly and line himself up with your entrance. You hiss as Jing Yuan feels the head of his cock push through and forward. Hot and warm, so slippery it feels like you're trying to push him out. He grabs you by the hip and slams you down hard, bottoming out.

You curse under your breath but it's not much more than noise to Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan wants to be unfair to you, so he holds you up and fucks you without mercy. There's only a brief pause, where he pulls out only to push all the way back in.

He keeps you in place just like that, and watches your expressions change over and over again. From irritated, to wanting, to almost lecherous with desire. A sense of adrenaline that leaves Jing Yuan's whole body feeling so alive, electricity running through his nerves. He loves seeing you like this - seeing his hardened right-hand turn into a stupid, drooling pretty boy. It elates him to see you like that, see your pussy fucked all the way open on his cock.

It makes him visceral and cruel, makes him want to fuck you so hard his thighs imprint on your ass.

So he fucks you, hard and fast - cock splitting you open and touching you so deep you can't even fix your mouth to bit him. There's drool coming through the metal grates, dripping on his chest and your eyes look like they're practically rolled back.

"Such a bad temper," Jing Yuan hisses, teeth sticking into your neck "Yet you get so wet," Thrust "And so pliable," Thrust "Like you're begging for me to be inside."

"Fuck," You curse, and you hold your breath "F-fuck, touch me, I'm gonna,"

Jing Yuan decides to heed your request, putting his hand between your bodies - rubbing your clit fast and hard. It's almost instant, the effect it has on you, how quickly you start to shake above him. He can feel your walls tighten around him, silken and slick. Begging for him, aren't you? Just begging to be fucked so full so you can let yourself go.

Of course Jing Yuan intends to give you just that. With ease and lust so bone deep, he lays you flat on your back before bringing his hands under your knees. He presses his full weight unto you.

"You're—oh, why're you—you're so deep."

"Yes, that's it," He says, and he can't keep himself together like he would like "This is will help won't it. Be a good mutt, and heel. Take it all,"

It doesn't take much more for Jing Yuan to push you over the edge. You're a sight for sore eyes like that, broken and fucking yourself back onto him. It's magnificent. Jing Yuan could never, ever get tired of looking at you fall apart so wholly. The praise falls out of his lips smoothly as you pulse around him over and over and over.

"That's it. This is what you needed isn't it?"

You spasm, squeeze so hard on Jing Yuans cock he can't help but bottom out. He cums like that, deep inside and fucks you through it. It leaves a mess of white in a ring around him when he does manage to pull himself out.

He rests his cock through puffy folds as he reaches around the back of your head - undoing the muzzle and letting you free. He rubs carefully at the indented skin before kissing you gingerly.

You blink at him through your lashes, running your fingers through soft grey hairs. Your voice is hoarse.

"You're a bastard, General."

"You seem upset, my dear."

"Don't call me that right now," You rasp, throat thick. You kiss him again anyways, and Jing Yuan laughs.

"Learn to control yourself," Jing Yuan reprimands, pushing his lips against your jaw "And I won't have any reason to upset you."

"I'm not promising you anything."

"Then stay by my side," Jing Yuan offers instead "I'll continue to punish you accordingly."

[littlemisstfc]

How The Bayverse Failed Optimus Prime

Hello, hola, こんにちは。

Welp, it’s been eighty four years since I have written a Transformers essay for Tumblr, huh? I do deeply apologize for my months-long hiatus on this funky T app. I was busy being a gaslighting, gatekeeping girlboss in the wilds of the bird app and that funny video app I think the kids call Taki Taki. Huh. What an odd name for an app. 🧐

Wait, what am I talking about? Wait, I remember. Anyways…

Oh, sweet little Bayverse, my dear archnemesis. Everyone and their mothers have the universal opinion of all opinions: the Bayverse is fundamentally flawed. Even if you hold nostalgic opinions about this franchise, by all means more power to you, you cannot deny that it’s a film series that is basically an 12 year old edgelord’s wet dream. Loud, obnoxious, filled with every horrible stereotype of the human race imaginable (from women to people of color to people with common sense), and lacks an understanding of what made Transformers special. If this movie was a person, it would call me a slur. 😭 But that’s a discussion for another day, and I’ve already made a video about the misogyny of the Bayverse if you’re curious. Check that out in your spare time! 👍🏽

In a nutshell, the Bayverse movies are not good, and there’s no better representation of why the movies lack a basic understanding of the franchise it was adapted from than a character that is essentially a childhood icon for many people:

Optimus Prime.

Everyone and their mothers hold a universal opinion that is sadly present: this man is a maniac who basically says, “GIVE ME YOUR HEAD.” However, Imma about to say something that not only caused a flame war when I brought it up a while back on Twitter, but reflects how the portrayal of Optimus in the movies is flawed in insidious ways:

Optimus is the victim of bad character writing as well as the lack of understanding his core personality. Thus, as a result, this resulted in the, “Bayverse Optimus is a psycho phenomenon” that demonized his visible mental health issues. He was a traumatized individual affected by the tragedies he had to endure throughout his entire life, and the movies did not do his hidden character arc justice. Come along with me on this journey of understanding Bayverse Optimus as a person, not as a demonic caricature that is unfortunately common in the fandom.

3, 2, 1, PINGU.

A Tale of a Bot: The Long Road to A Broken Mind

Optimus’ current personality and outlook on life in general is a result of having a life filled with betrayals and tragedy. Having been orphaned at a young age after the Fallen has killed off the lineage of the Primes, he was taken in by Sentinel Prime as a pupil. Having worked with other Autobots in revitalizing Cybertron into a hospitable world, he was selected by Sentinel to lead the Autobots. At the same time, his true heritage was revealed. However, feeling overwhelmed by the responsibilities of his prestigious family history, Optimus turned down Sentinel’s offer. He accepted the responsibility of co-leading Cybertron with his childhood ish friend Megatron, as he is the fair to the latter’s firmness. However, throughout their rule, they clashed multiple times over multiple scenarios such as the arrival of enemy invaders and the discovery of a relic. This was mostly fueled by Megatron’s own resentment and jealousy towards his co leader due to Optimus’ Prime heritage. The boiling point that exploded into war was Megatron and his followers ambushing Prime and his companions while on a trip to Metrotitan. Thus, along with the apparent death of Sentinel through the latter’s ship being shot by Starscream, this drives Optimus in adopting a rage induced mindset towards Megatron. The one he grew up, the one he confided in, the one that he adored so much, the one who has betrayed his trust all for a vain and arrogant quest for the ultimate power. It lays the framework for Optimus’ jaded, yet hopeful outlook on life, something that the movies at least did a job in conveying. It’s also helped by Peter Cullen giving it his all as usual in conveying his sadness buried underneath his stoic demeanor. Thus, along with a few more shenanigans in the comics, this is where the first two movies started.

I appreciate the comics existing, because they took the time to actually develop Optimus’ personality and his mental state as seen in the film series. We see him as a hopeful, naive bot who hopes that one day, Megatron can change his mind and Cybertron will be alive once again. Unfortunately…the one predictable aspect of life is its unpredictability, and god dammit…it reared its ugly head as all hell breaks loose after a certain old bot returned in Dark of The Moon. Dark of The Moon is the true outlier among a sea of mediocrity and awfulness, for the best element it got right: how Sentinel’s betrayal deeply affected Optimus in the long run. This is someone who raised him when he had nothing, someone he deeply loves as a father, someone he trusted whole heartedly. And how does Sentinel repays Optimus’ loyalty and adoration for him in DOTM? Tricking him and the others into leading him to the Allspark, since UH OH he is a Decepticon spy all along, killed the Hit Me With Everything You Got robot, helping Megatron invade Chicago, and planting Seeds in order to revive Cybertron by killing Earth. Optimus saw his mentor going down a path similar to Megatron, which essentially broke his idealistic viewpoint into devastating shards that could never be put together again. I find his confrontation with Sentinel after defeating him in battle very compelling, because you could feel the heartbreak, the anger, and…the disappointment that his mentor is not the the man that he loved as a father. It was Sentinel’s choice to go to the Dark Side, it was Sentinel’s bed to lie on,

Sure, the day was eventually saved in the end. However, everything that Optimus knew and all the people he loved is gone officially. He got his main band of amigos, that’s good. However…he is basically alone in dealing with his thoughts. The universe is a cruel mistress, and it keeps putting our Flamin Hot Cheetos boyo through the ringer.

We get to Age of Extinction, years after the Battle of Chicago. Now on the run thanks to the American government being the American government, he has no one. His friends are also in hiding, Autobots are fugitives in the planet they sought refuge in, and humans are willing to turn him into the authorities. This drives his mental state into something even worse as it is, as years of trauma and stress has finally caught up to him. Like, dude legit needs some weed to soothe his nerves and it is HAUNTING. Reduced to a broken, traumatized man in the safety of a barn, he is left with major trust issues. However, one day, a kind human by the name of Cade Yeagar did the unthinkable: he didn’t turn in Optimus to the authorities. Instead, he chose to repair our Flamin Hot King out of the kindness of his heart once he realizes that Optimus is no ordinary car. Even with the pressures of his family’s financial situation, Cade still chose to help Prime. This is the first step to breaking the first wall of Optimus’ mental state: his trust issues. For a movie infamous for being one of the worst movies in Transformers history, it does a surprisingly excellent job in portraying Optimus’ and Cade’s relationship in a natural progression. They’re both bird of a feather; they’re both tired fathers raising a rebellious teenager while also trying to make it in this crazy ass world. Thus, with Cade still helping him even when his life is in danger multiple times, Optimsu learns to open up to other people for the first time in probably centuries. He reconnects with his teammates, he begins to regain his faith in humanity and the universe, and he opens his spark again to love. By the end of the movie, Cade became the person that Megatron and Sentinel had failed to be, someone who is actually similar to Optimus’ other close friend Elita One. 

Soon, The Last Knight arrived and things got worse for him. Subjected to brutal torture at the hands of Quintessa, who tried to force him to love her as a mother, he reached the breaking point of his sanity. An empty shell of his former self, a representation of everything that he went through, the painful reminder how he felt about himself for so long…true, he was rescued by Cade and regained his grip on sanity in order to save the day. However, it means that he’ll have to carry the scars of the single most traumatic moment of his life so far… honestly, say what you want about The Last Knight. However, through this one hidden gem underneath a pile of mediocrity, lies a character that suffered for so long to find the love and happiness he desperately wanted, that suffered for the liberation of his people, that suffered because his lineage ensures that he couldn’t find happiness possibly for a long time…

But an Autobot has no tears, and therefore he suffers so much more.

So, riddle me this, dear TORB Nation: how does the movie portray a genuinely compelling character arc that reveals another side to Optimus Prime?

BLOWING UP SHIT AND BODIES BODIES BODIES ON THE MOTHERFUCKING FLOOR, AMERICA, FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The movies not only twisted such a character arc into simply nothing more than, “Optimus angy,” but it’s genuinely disgusting that his visible mental issues was thrown under the bus because heaven forbid, we have an emotionally complex protagonist. They don’t understand who Optimus Prime is. Optimus Prime is someone who pushes through his sorrows and chooses to remain a kind person in spite of said trauma. However, the movies twisted his character into another angry badass robot, never highlighting his kindness, It only highlighted his sadness. I cannot believe that Imma about make this comparison (mostly because one of these outcomes is arguably better than Bayverse in all ways), but fuck it. I need to say it:

EVEN MOTHERFUCKING TRANSFORMERS PRIME KNEW TO SHOWCASE THIS VULNERABLE SIDE OF OPTIMUS THAN THE BAYVERSE EVER DID.

Like, TFP Optimus is a pretty brick with no personality trait other than Badass Stoic Optimus that plagued the 2010s. Still, still, still, it made sure to highlight his vulnerability in a respectful and careful manner. Said respectful and caring manner is barely there except for hidden bits from time to time due to the lame ass, “Primes don’t party” logic and moments that personally grind my gears, but that’s a story for another day.

Anyways, my point is that Michael Bay would rather focus on style than substance when he’s not busy terrorizing women. Even if you’re an apologist for him, it resulted in the movies being broken for better or for worse. Mostly worst. Because of the movies being broken, it continues to do an even worse job in The Last Knight, as it focuses on the same stupid shit as usual and throws Optimus under the bus as usual. He isn’t given time to breathe, time to fully flesh out his personality and state of mind in a caring and graceful manner. Like…this honestly upsets me just as much as the disgusting elements of the Bayverse as a whole.

This Optimus Prime is someone who was me when I reached my breaking point in the lowest moments of my life. I understood where he was coming from, I understood his pain and anger because of all the heavy shit he went through. For a long time, he has a special place in my heart as I got older because he represents who I was in a time of my life where I was just as vulnerable and broken as him. So, don’t ya’ll (especially those on Twitter) ever fucking say he is a psycho because to me, that shows the ugly side of your personality. He was me, he was a character that came in a point in my life that helped me through difficulties in my life. He is a character that has the most bastardization of any character I adore in fiction, because of the insidious nature of the movies he was in for a decade. 

Bayverse Optimus Prime is more than the “GIVE ME YOUR FACE” guy. He is a character with hidden LAYERS that is done dirty by the Bayverse movies. I will continue to repeat this statement: He is more than, “GIVE ME YOUR FACE.” 

Conclusion: Why Are Y'all Booing Me? I have a third eye.

I have to put up with this “Bayverse Optimus is a psycho” bullshit for YEARS, I deserve to be a feral gremlin DAMMIT. After a long time of seeing one of my favorite iterations of Optimus Prime be reduced as a funny murder guy by the non Tumblr fandom, because of the Bayverse movies bastardizing his character, I have to put my foot down. If y’all can’t see my viewpoint, that’s fine. However, I’ll continue to be a passionate fan of this Optimus Prime and gatekeep him from the fans who demonize my boyo into nothing but a caricature. He is the big titty goddess in this household with so much more going for him. I’ll never stop to be his ace attorney for as long as I live, because he was someone who was me. Someone who opened the doors to introducing me to one of my favorite characters in all of fiction. He was the light in my darkest hour…

Anyways, good night Tri State Area. Pingu.

[mangoshorthand]

Hii againn, first off I seriously love love LOVE the lucky fucking pillow you did from my first request thank you 🫶 I think this counts as my second request? (I hope it's okay to req again🥺) fluff rather than a smut hehe, this happens after five retired and they live together and reader comes home with a senior cat she decided to adopted (bc it reminded her of five) then he soon comes to love it so much, and up to you! pls a bit of angst. THANKIEE SMM I really enjoyed my first request!! 🩷🩷🩷

You're welkiee again! You can request as often as you like (but I am on hiatus after posting this to work on one or two longer projects). I've saved this one for a bit because I really wanted to do it justice. Sorry it took so long.

Two Old Men | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader Words: 3.3k, rated G

At last, retirement suited him. 

He tried first when he was fifty eight and his body was in its teens, but destiny pulled him kicking and screaming back into the chaos. After all that was all done, he tried again, but it didn’t take.

As it turned out, people don’t retire just because they’re mentally tired, they retire because they’re old, and Five’s body and brain tissue being physically young had left him too full of energy to live a life of idleness.

But now, with his body in its early fifties and his consciousness well into its nineties, he felt the body slowing down enough to allow him to take it easy

So, a year ago, you and he bought a few acres of land in Tompkins County. Five was someone who didn’t like to gush- in fact, he tended to find fault if there was any- but even he had to admit it was perfect: it was near enough to Ithaca to access all the restaurants, shops and bars you enjoyed together, and rural enough to satisfy him in his insistence that you retire somewhere where nightfall brought a view of the cosmos unspoiled by city lights.

The farmhouse was small enough to mean it would be easy enough to keep clean as you both aged, but commodious enough to play host to two or three family members at a time.

For New Year, you actually managed four, but that had involved Klaus staying on a blow-up. He'd insisted that his powers kept his body in tip-top shape but it became apparent the following morning that he'd been talking out of his ass: his elderly back could no longer tolerate such treatment, and Five had wrenched his own in pulling him off the mattress.

No, Five couldn’t complain: he had a couple of project cars to tinker with in the barn, and next year you were planning to try planting a little orchard and vineyard to try your hands at making organic wine. His days were filled with pleasant walks, naps and hobbies, and his nights were spent warm in bed with you: what more could a man want from his retirement?

Now, he stretched out on the veranda, hat shading his eyes and sun warming his limbs. He wondered vaguely whether it was worth adding just one more bedroom. He sort of missed having a house full of guests. Or, even better, maybe he could build himself a better place for the cars (his precious Corvette was vulnerable to rust in the barn right now), and then convert the barn into its own little self-contained-

“Five?”

Your shout came to him on the breeze. He put down his book entirely and squinted at your approaching figure, returning from your afternoon walk. He’d left his glasses inside, so he could only see an indistinct shape in your arms. Your gait seemed unusual. Were you hurt?

“What’s up?” he called back, ignoring the slight twinge in his pelvis as he stood. 

“Look what I’ve found!”

Not hurt: just slightly urgent. He approached curiously, walking off the little stiffness caused by the twinge. He knew there would probably be a point when it was easier to blink to his feet than heave himself up- he could sense it coming the last time his body was in its fifties, but he was damned if he’d do that until his joints were at least pushing eighty.

You came into view.

Apparently, you were wrestling with your sweater.

It writhed in your arms, wriggling and snarling so fiercely that you nearly dropped it on a couple of occassions.

“What the hell?”

“Open the door for me. I found a cat.”

“A cat?" he said, as if he'd never heard of such a creature.

And, sure enough, a pair of bright green eyes glared out from where their owner was bundled up in the sweater: a tightly- wrapped burrito with murder in its heart.

“I don’t want that thing in the house!” he said, as the burrito gave a threatening growl.

“He’s ill, Five.”

Thirty years together had taught him when you meant business. Your tone was conclusive, so he reluctantly opened the front door.

“Put it in the laundry room,” he said, resentfully, “I don’t want it pissing on the furniture.”

“He, Five.” you said, pointedly.

“Yeah, wouldn’t wanna misgender a goddamn cat,” he mumbled, but he opened the laundry room door and stood aside so you could enter before closing it behind you both.

“Okay- stand back,” you said, lowering the writhing sweater onto the tiles. 

Five did step back. He liked dogs, but cats he had no interest in. Let alone one that sounded like it intended them both serious bodily harm. Its constant growls and furious yowls made him feel like he was in the presence of a live grenade. 

For a moment, the bundle wriggled, throwing itself around until the cat finally extracted himself. His long fur was a dark gray black, and those jade eyes peered out threateningly from underneath weeping mange-sores. Immediately, he backed off into a corner, fur all on end and spitting at you both with hackles raised. Though he was doing his level best to appear larger, he was rather small and skinny.

Five looked at you, incredulously. There you were, eyes glistening in adoration as you looked down at the brewing hurricane of claws and teeth. It was the same face he fell in love with. You were slightly older than him physically, but you didn’t look it, especially now that your eyes were filled with an excited gleam: you looked young again. 

“Look at him, Five!”

Suppressing a loving smile, he looked back at the cat, now growling again.

“He’s kinda gross.”

“No he isn’t!” you said, indignantly, “he's an old man and he’s sick.”

You paused for a moment. 

“A bit like you, actually. You’re a sick old man if ever I met one.”

You eyed him knowingly with a little twitch of your eyebrows. Five scowled, but you continued, laughing, as the parallels came upon you one by one.

“He is like you! That must be why I had to bring him home! He’s tiny and old and grumpy and-”

As you said it, the cat let out an indignant, snappish ‘Nyaah’.

“-and he even sounds like you!” you finished, grinning. 

“I’m not tiny,” Five said, grumpily, “I’m only an inch or so shorter than average.”

“Look!” you said, pointing between him and the cat, “you’re pulling the same face.”

“God, I married an idiot,” Five replied, schooling his expression back into neutrality. He looked back at the cat with its teeth bared in a silent hiss.

“It looks like it wants to tear our throats out.”

“I know!” you said, rapturously, “he’s so cute!”

Five shook his head at this absurd non-sequitur.

“Whose is it?”

“I found him near the old Montgomery place. I think he must have belonged to Judy.”

His mouth pulled downwards. Five had known Judy to wave to. She was a nice old lady who lived a few farms over. He’d been sorry to hear of her death.

“That means he’s been surviving on his own for two months,” you said. 

He looked down at the cat, looking rapidly around itself for a route of escape and finding none. It seemed to try to line up a jump onto the counter, but looked wobbly on its back legs as it did so, so it gave up and went back to eyeing them with those lamp-like eyes.

He really was old.

“Well,” Five said, begrudgingly, “you’re gonna have to take him to the vets. See if he’s chipped and get that shit on his face sorted out.”

“Okay!” you said, brightly, looking around the laundry room with a thoughtful look, “can you blink and get me some twine from the kitchen so we don’t have to open the door.”

“Twine?”

“You just watch.”

***

With many claw marks on your forearms but still smiling like an idiot, you drove the cat to the vets with it trapped in a plastic laundry basket with an identical one on top secured with twine. Five watched you down the drive with a fond shake of the head and returned to his book. There was still a good hour or so of warm, early-afternoon sun before he’d have to go inside and get a jacket.

He spent the afternoon peacefully, sipping a cold beer and occasionally letting his book rest on his chest while he watched the thick cirrocumulous cloud cover crawling gradually by.

When he was forty, he only barely lived through the worst apocalyptic winter. Fuel was low, and he'd been prevented from finding more or seeking shelter elsewhere by the deepest snow drifts he ever experienced.

Out of one of these, he’d dug himself and Dolores a little snow-shelter. He distinctly remembered trying to dry his soaking gloves over the smoldering embers of his last burnable supplies and looking down at his red fingers.

'If I survive this,' he thought then, 'this will all be a memory one day. I can look back on this when I’m warm and comfortable. I can sit in the sun and remember how lucky I am to be there. This is good, actually, because it’ll teach me to be grateful.'

And, although he’d only thought that way to get him through that night, it had actually worked, because Five remembered it now. He remembered the pain in his joints from the physical labor and the burning of his frostbitten fingers and toes. He took a moment to glory in the contrast between then and now.

Back then, he’d only been thinking about surviving until the thaw or the following summer, but now he had more happiness and more comfort than he ever dared to imagine then. He was warm, he was safe, he was home, and he would fall asleep tonight held tight in your arms. 

With a warm feeling in his chest, he closed his eyes. 

He only awoke from the slight doze at the sound of the car pulling up.

“Hey,” he said, without opening his eyes, “is it all done with? Cat at the shelter?”

“Nyyaaahhh!”

The truculent noise was more than enough to answer his question. Damn cat couldn’t even meow right.

He opened his eyes to see you standing there with the cat in a brand new carrier and a huge bag from the pet store in another.

“Woah, hey!” he said, dismayed, “We didn’t talk about this!”

“Please, Five,” you said, wheedling, “he has nobody else. They read his chip and he was Judy’s. The vet said he’s too old to get adopted and he’d probably die at a shelter.”

“No, I am not keeping that thing in the house,” he protested, “I got this strange liking to having both my eyes!”

He relented slightly at the sight of your pout.

“Fine. He can stay, but he can live in the barn.”

“You go live in the barn,” you said, resentfully, taking the cat and the supplies into the house despite his protestations.

An argument ensued, an argument that didn’t settle down until you both turned in for bed.

When the cat was shut downstairs for the night, fed, bedded and given the run of the kitchen and laundry room, you slid into bed beside Five without acknowledging him. 

Five sat there for a minute or so with his arms folded and a scowl on his face. At last, he spoke:

“Fine,” he said, “he can stay in the house, but I got two conditions.”

You gave a small squee and kissed him full on the mouth, squashing his mustache with your fervor. You knew that the thin end of the wedge was embedded. Whatever Five’s conditions were, the cat would find his way around them in time.

“All right, all right,” Five said, from between your hands on his cheeks. Though he was trying to sound stern, suppressing his smile was difficult.

“Number one,” he said, holding up a finger, “he doesn’t get to go beyond the kitchen. I don’t want him ruining our stuff. We’ll get a cat door and he can go out and do whatever cats do during the day, and he can sleep and eat here.”

“Okay,” you said, though with no intention of sticking to this agreement. 

Five put up a second finger.

“And two, I get to name him.”

“He already has a name,” you said, bemused, “Judy called him Mr Cuddles, I think.”

“That’s a dumb name,” Five grumbled, “I’m calling him Timothy.”

“Timothy?”

“Timothy.” he said, decisively, “take it or leave it.”

“Can we call him Tim?”

“Nope,” Five said, obstinately, “Timothy.”

***

Timothy didn’t like to be touched. It took him six weeks to tolerate you petting him without tensing up, though it was clear he didn’t really enjoy it. Being picked up was still an absolute no-go, as that would necessitate touching his tummy. That, you were learning, was a guaranteed bite. 

Despite this, things had improved for Timothy since he arrived. His mange was gone and he’d grown in confidence, greeting you each morning with a polite ‘Nyah’, and even conferring the odd friendly chirrup upon you now and again.

You spent hours in the kitchen with him, just sitting there, drinking tea and tempting him towards you with treats. You were getting on fine, and Timothy clearly already felt like he owned the place, coming and going as he wished and sunning himself on the veranda.

You were besotted, and Five was happy for you, (anything that made your eyes light up that way was fine by him), but mostly he ignored Timothy, carrying on just the same as ever. 

One afternoon, however, Five was in the barn, lying on his mechanic’s creeper under his jacked up 1967 Pontiac. There was a worrying leak coming from somewhere, and, having got so far fixing her up on his own, he was hoping to avoid having to take her into the shop in town.

So intent was he on inspecting the engine bay, he didn’t notice that he wasn’t the only one beneath the car until Timothy was less than an inch from his face. 

“Nyaaah?”

Five startled, dropping his flashlight and cursing. 

“Shit!”

Timothy’s ears flattened against his head, and he backed off rapidly, stopping a few feet away before hissing at Five, ill-naturedly.

“Stupid cat,” Five muttered, composing himself and returning to the job at hand. 

As he continued to work, he stayed aware of Timothy stalking around the car. At one point, he heard a small flump that meant he’d jumped through the Pontiac’s open door. 

“Watch the the interior,” Five grumbled, “that’s the original naugahyde. You know how much I paid for her?”

“Nyah.”

“Yup,” he said, “and if you scratch up or pee on any of it, I’ll replace it with catskin. Understood?”

“Nyah,” Timothy repeated.

“Good.”

He became absorbed again, listening to Timothy’s paws pattering around on his precious upholstery. The leak was hard to identify. He chewed at his lower lip and considered before muttering to himself.

“It was brown, so that’s gotta be transmission fluid, right? Maybe brake fluid? Hell, maybe it’s just oil.”

“Nyah.”

“Could be a lube oil leak, I guess,” he said, as if Timothy had suggested this, “but it doesn’t smell bad.”

Timothy landed with only a slight stumble when he jumped down. Five felt the cat butt up and rub himself against his feet where they stuck out from underneath the car. 

He tinkered for another fifteen minutes to no avail. He could feel his joints starting to stiffen, so he wheeled himself out from under the car to find Timothy watching him, sitting neatly in a shaft of sunlight at the barn door.

He gave Five a slow blink. 

Five wasn’t au fait with cat communication, but the gesture seemed friendly, so he nodded slightly awkwardly at him in acknowledgement. 

***

Over the next week or so, Timothy honored Five with his company whenever he worked on the Pontiac.

Five supposed it was a hangover from his life with Dolores, but he found he worked better when he had a presence with him to talk to. Verbalizing his thought processes nearly always helped him problem-solve.

It took him a few days to identify the problem and, just as he was starting to fix it, a sound like an idling Harley Davidson made him look around confusedly for the source. He thought for one, wild moment that the key had been turned in the Pontiac’s ignition but apparently not: as it turned out, this was just how Timothy purred.

He was sitting a few feet away, watching Five work under the car and purring in the warmth of the sunlight. When he saw Five looking, he gave another of those contented slow blinks.

That night, Five didn’t shut Timothy in the kitchen when he went to bed.

***

It was a balmy summer afternoon. You and Five were sitting on the veranda on the twin loungers, drinking iced tea and talking in an idle fashion about building another bedroom. 

You favored converting the attic, while Five wanted a full barn conversion.  He talked convincingly about how nice it would be to have his niblings and their families over to stay for a few weeks at a stretch, but you suspected it actually had much more to do with the opportunity to build himself a proper mechanic’s shop on the property. He talked about how nice it would be to spend more time with the kids, but you could see the ghost of a hydraulic vehicle lift behind his eyes: there would be no more lying uncomfortably on the creeper then.

But, the decision left unmade, Five had talked himself into a nap. His hand had long since dropped from where you’d been holding it between the two loungers, and he was now sound asleep with his hat over his face.

You were engrossed with a book, relaxed and listening to Five’s soft little snores. It was good he was having a nap now, you thought. Tonight, you’d planned to wait up until it got dark out and stargaze on a rug spread in the back field, like you did when you were younger.

“Nyaah?”

Timothy padded into sight, piercing green eyes x-raying you with assessment. This was another similarity to your husband: even after all these years, Five regularly looked at you as if he were still making up his mind about you. 

You patted your thigh, hoping to encourage Timothy onto your lap, but he declined the offer and wandered over to sniff Five’s empty glass instead. Apparently finding nothing to his liking, he looked up at Five.

You watched, shocked, as Timothy first gauged the jump, then decided it was within his capabilities and finally shuffled backwards to line himself up. In a mildly ungainly fashion, he made the leap and walked confidently along Five’s chest until he reached the softer padding of his belly. There, Timothy kneaded him gently before he settled down, turning around and around in a circle before curling up neatly.

This was just typical, you thought, as Timothy began to purr loudly. You’d worked your ass off to get this cat to like you and he still barely tolerated you petting him. All the while, Five had treated Timothy with indifference bordering on dislike and this is how he responded?

As you watched, trying hard not to feel slightly offended, Five stirred and muttered something in which only the word “cat” was discernible. His arms came sleepily up, his fingers laced together and his hands laid themselves across the cat’s abdomen. 

Timothy stiffened and made a small, slightly unhappy noise at the unexpected touch, but, after a moment of evaluation, apparently decided to tolerate it. He lay his head back down and closed his eyes.

For a moment, you shook your head and watched the two crotchety old men sleep. Then, smiling, you returned to your book.

Request masterlist >> HERE

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

[miwhotep]

I wandered a lot about William and Milverton's possible relations and that was when I also realized that while the Moriarties had agents at the police (Patterson) or at the MI6 (Albert, Bond, Herder, Moneypenny), they didn't have an agent at the media world. Ruling the news would've also been an effective way to guide/manipulate the people, so it would've made sense to have an agent in a powerful media position, too. In my headcanon, William even had someone in mind... the pre-villain arc Milverton.

In my Milverton origin story headcanon, I mentioned that after the young Milverton's family got killed by a noble (when he as a lower-class, idealistic journalist tried to reveal the truth in a murder case what got commited by a noble, but a commoner got framed for it), he met with the child Liam on the street who suggested him to blackmail nobles into letting him make a newspaper for commoners, and fight for the good cause through corrupted methods like they do. While Liam truly wanted to help the lost and hopeless young Milverton, he also had it in mind to make him his agent in the future. But later, he realized that he made a great mistake: Milverton was emotionally unstable, who didn't just hate nobles, but started loathing commoners, too, for turning their back on him, when his family needed help, so the pain, the blackmails and manipulations he tried to make the country a better place with, slowly corrupted his soul and gaining more and more power, he turned fully evil. When Liam gathered Moran and Fred to finally start with their plan, he already knew that he lost Milverton as a possible agent.

William partly blamed himself for Milverton turning into a villain and for a while, he was unable to face with this mistake and destroy him - that's why while he knew about Milverton's evil ways, he didn't plan on staging his downfall, like he did with nobles. Only when Milverton started targeting William and later when the Whiteley case happened, decided to act. The night when he went to kill him was painful to William and he even backed up for a moment - that's why when Sherlock arrived to the scene, Milverton was still alive.

Due to seeing one of his possible agents fall that way, he was afraid that it can happen to the others, they can cross the line, too, if they are using evil as a way to fight for the right for too long. That's why he made sure with Louis, that after succeeding with the Moriarty Plan, they will act on the side of the law, too (the promise what Moran broke when he went rogue for the years of the Great Hiatus).

When it comes to Milverton, when he read about child Liam's court case in the Merchant of London Arc, he realized that it was indeed William who suggested blackmail to him as a method to deal with injustice back then when Milverton was still on the good side. He found it really ironic that they are now enemies - at the same time, he felt betrayed, too, because he was always grateful to child Liam whose advice he viewed as the first stepping stone for his current position. That's why while he wanted Liam to get arrested, he also wanted to make sure he gets a comfortable prison - as a form of thanks. The night when William went to kill him, before Sherlock appeared, William and Milverton finally faced each other again. William confronted him and listed his crimes, asking why he turned his back on justice and became the person he despised when he was young, while Milverton just laughed and replied this:

"That's just the way of this society. The ones with power can always use the people as their toys, as they please, you know this well - you play this game, too. But unlike you, I'm not doing this for personal reasons, oh no. You ruin nobles for your so-called good cause, I ruin everyone no matter what their status is - in the end, isn't that me who is on the side of equality?"

This is one of my favourite headcanons I came up with, because it makes the face-off between the William and Milverton so heartbreaking. I really want an AU where Milverton stays on the side of the good and work together with the Moriarty group.

[romancomicsnews]

8 Characters who should appear in Young Justice Season 5

Hoping and praying for another season of Young Justice is something I'm very used to.

After its initial cancelation way back in 2013, Young Justice was revived for a third season on DC Universe, DC's attempt at a streaming service, and lived past that to get a fourth season on HBO Max.

It is now under hiatus with no current plans at a fifth season.

I however will continue to remain hopeful for another season. Young Justice (with the exception of the Harley Quinn animated universe) is my favorite version of the DC Universe. With an exceptional voice cast, a focus on younger more relatable heroes, and a realistic political element to a superhero world, Young Justice cements itself not only as one of the best DC animated shows, but one of the best pieces of superhero media.

So while I have nothing but time until Warner Bros sees the gem that they have and give us a fifth season, I thought I'd pitch the characters I'd most like to see in the next season.

Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti, if you're reading this, know if you don't put these in, I trust the season will be great anyway.

But you know, consider it!

*Spoiler Warning for Every Season of Young Justice*

The Bad Boys of the Bat Family

Let's start with the obvious!

Jason Todd AKA The Red Hood has been teased ever since Season 2, and while has made a few appearances, we have yet to see the menace he can be to both Bruce and The Bat Family.

I particularly want his story to tie in with Tim, who has only been seen to be the loyal soldier to Bruce. This can be an opportunity to reflect upon the life, and how Bruce's trauma trickles down.

Another Bat pairing I'm itching to see is Damian Wayne and Nightwing. The blood son and the favorite son can lead to some fun comedic beats and a lot of tension for the team.

Whatever team they decide to position Damian on, it could lead to disaster. Damians presence can also lead to less trust amongst superheroes, as he is a known killer, and Robin is a pretty public title in the Young Justice universe.

The Forgotten Sidekick

Sometimes even sidekicks need sidekicks!

For those not in the know, Gear was an original character for the DCAU show Static Shock, Virgil's best friend Richie.

Using technology, including a robotic backpack and flying boots, he was simultaneously Virgil's guy in the chair and right hand man in the field.

Static has been on the show for multiple seasons, but really hasn't had much to do since season 2. Giving him a protege of his own while paying homage to what came before.

Speaking of what came before...

The Final Titans

Who doesn't want a Titans reunion?

In Season 3, Cyborg was introduced into the fold and Beast Boy was given a much more expanded role. Ever since, I've been waiting for the Daughter of Trigon and the Tamaranean Princess to arrive.

An episode where the 5 Titans meet for an impromptu mission would be a lot of fun, perhaps battling one of their classic villains like Brother Blood or Deathstoke!

In the long run, both characters fit very well into the already established universe.

Raven would make an interesting member of Zatanna's Sentinels of Magic, and Starfire would be right at home with Forager and Miss Martian as aliens on Earth.

Would it be fan wish fulfillment? Absolutely, but Young Justice has done it before. In Season 4, Razer of Green Lantern Animated Series was given one of the best episodes, continuing his arc to find Aya.

I'm not sure how you could get all these characters and one of the Robins together for a mission, but I'll leaving the writing up to the experts.

The Incompetent Time Traveler

We've had the Legion, we've had Bart, but we have yet to have a time traveler who has no idea what he's doing.

Enter: Booster Gold.

Booster Gold is a fan favorite character across comics and animated media. He is a failed football athlete in the 25th Century, who steals tech in the future to pretend to be a hero in our time.

The character is soon to enter James Gunn's DCU, and recently made his Arrowverse debut in Legends of Tomorrow, played by Donald Faison, right before the show got cancelled (I bring this up mainly because he deserved a shot at voicing him and it could be a fun nod).

Boosters interference with the timeline could lead him to the worlds only time traveling expert, Bart Allen, effectively making him the Outsiders responsibility.

The character also leaves the door open to potentially a big bad, and maybe even thee big bad of the season....

The Professor

Much like General Zod and the Kryptonians became an overarching threat for Season 4, making it a Superboy/Superman focused season, I think it's high time the Speedsters of the team have a new threat.

Professor Zoom or the Reverse Flash is Barry Allen's greatest enemy. Another future man of the 25th Century, Eobard Thawne was a brilliant scientist, so opposed with The Flash, he decided to become his greatest enemy to become part of the story.

Reverse Flash has quite a few similarities with Bart actually. Future speedster hoping to be a part of the story and change the timeline for "the better". It would be an interesting rivalry between them.

While I would like him as the big bad of the season, I understand we JUST did a time traveling menace

My potential pitch would be Reverse Flash needs access to our time now for a power source, something to bring his power to the next level. Something or someone with Speed Force to spare, making him a battery for Eobard. So I believe Reverse Flash has returned to the past to get...

The Prodigal Son

Did I write this piece just to pitch a Wally West return season?

Yes. Yes I did.

Young Justice has left just enough wiggle room for Wally to return. We never hear about his soul, we never found a body, and Wally has been trapped in the Speed Force in the comics before.

Most notably, The Speed Force has not been mentioned yet. Currently, I don't believe any speedsters actually know it exists.

Eobard showing them the speed force and releasing Wally to drain his power, only to be foiled by the team, would not only bring back Wally, it could make him the Fastest Man Alive.

Wally becoming the Flash could be his arc of the season, which I argue would’ve been his destiny if Bart didn’t save Barry’s life.

Giving us a Wally with a power boost, lost time and lost love could lead to a lot of drama and potential for storytelling.

And of course, an Artemis/Wally reunion is well in order.

Again, if none of these characters make an appearance in the next season, I’d still just be happy there’s a season at all.

But time will tell if I’m right.

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[talesfromaurea]

[Image ID: The front and back of an aged-looking book cover. The front features two dragons, one white and one black, forming a vertical infinity symbol and the title "Tales from Aurea". The back has the following summary: "It's the end of an era and the land of Calthia is descending into ruin... Amidst a backdrop of crumbling empires and dwindling magic, four unlikely companions come together with a shared goal: helping a mysterious young girl named Kaja stay hidden and find her way home. But when it comes to light that Kaja's elusive people are the only ones with the power to destroy the demonic forces dragging Calthia into darkness, suddenly all eyes-friend and foe-are turned their way." /.End ID]

We're back!!

After a long hiatus, I'm coming back with a new and improved draft of Tales from Aurea that you'll be able to read for free. Come join the Pathfinder party 🥳

Genres: Action, Adventure, Fantasy, Supernatural

Themes: Coming of age; justice and revenge; duality and balance; facing fears; free will versus determinism; dealing with trauma, loss, and grief

Sources of inspiration: Slavic mythology, Pathfinder/DnD, The Elder Scrolls, the Zelda series

Features: Largely LGBTQ+ cast, focus on platonic relationships, found family, a fantasy setting based on ancient Rome and surrounding kingdoms

Content warnings: violence and blood (no gore), character death, discussion of topics including imperialism, genocide, and slavery

Where can I read?

Chapters will be serialized on Royal Road (link), with an excerpt and announcement shared here on tumblr! Haven't worked out what kind of schedule yet but you can follow on Royal Road and/or request to be on the tumblr tag list to keep up with news 😊

Where can I learn more about the characters, story, etc?

I think this "what to expect" tag provides a good overview. You can also check out my "pathfinder talk" tag here for everything I've posted including drawings, excerpts, and general rambles.

I read the last draft, should I read this from the beginning?

Yes! As well as writing improvements, this draft contains more character development and new details. I'm also planning on carrying this into future arcs that were never posted to tumblr before.

Ask to be added to the tag list and thank you for reading!

One time tag for a few folks who've shown interest in the past: @aroyalpaininthecass, @drippingmoon, @harps-for-days, @splashinkling, @ashen-crest, @star-soupp