#v. traveling doc

[thevalicemultiverse]

Official TOMSA Notice: We highly discourage attempting to time travel for financial gain as doing so without proper licensing from TOMSA or a sanctioned Department of Chronology is a crime and earns a minimum of 10 years in Hourglass.

Addendum: Stop trying to game the lottery, you know much they tax those winnings? Not worth the jail time. - HCS Theta-Prime

Marty: Oh shit -- now there's a good reason not to mess with time travel for coin collecting, you'll get the time cops on your ass.

Doc: Considering how persistent our questioner was, I'm not entirely certain a notice like this would stop them. Especially since the notice does mention that doing so "without proper licensing" is the issue...

[doctorbrown]

WHAT IS YOUR MOTIF?

BLACK HOLE

your motif is a black hole. it's dangerous. it reminds the audience of everything they don't know, and makes them ask difficult questions. where are we? who are we? what's on the other side?

[meistoshi]

❛ hope i'm not being a bother ; i realize this is kind of short notice. ❜

" nonsense. we always keep spare windows open where we can, & i always have time for a patient, champion or not. how's your chest been, by the way ?? i recall you had a particularly speedy recovery ... "

❛ haha, yeah, i've always healed fast !! it's been fine ; no aches i didn't get warned about. scarring's healed alright too, but i wasn't too worried 'bout that either way. ❜

" that's good to hear. " papers moved, a folder opened. " so, then, mr. akiyoshi, let's go over some options, shall we ?? "

❛ i'm in your care !! ❜

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[thehopcful]

Hope couldn't help being chatty, really. She was too excited at first to hold back, or to register who the older trainer was at first. She was just eager to hear what he had to say, listening with rapt attention. His comment about messing with cops was enough to make her pause and consider his appearance. In her years wandering around Alola she had certainly seen the grunts of Team Skull around quite often. Especially when they decided to mess with the Mantine on the beach. She'd also heard a little about the team's leader, mainly from people telling her to avoid said leader, and it was as she looked over his features that she connected the dots. The tattoo, the outfit, hair, etc. "Wait-" She started, her excitement diminishing only somewhat. "Are you the leader of those Team Skull guys? Or you're just a really good cosplayer- I guess that's also possible."

She recalled some other bits of information, most of which she didn't care about at that exact moment, since she also remembered several people mentioning that the Team Skull Leader was something of a bug type specialist; something she hadn't yet encountered in her travels.

"If you are..." She hesitated for a heartbeat before continuing. "You're supposed to be like a bug type master, right?"

...a chatty one, huh. Lifting an eyebrow and crossing his arms, Guzma pretty much... leaned on Golisopod, sharing with the big bug a Look. Trademark. The kind of look in which Guzma had to deal with the fact that people aren't as scared of him as they used to be, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Eh. At least this one appreciates bugs.

"What can I say? Losers gonna lose, 'n people still understimate Bug Types!" he shrugged, still giving half a smirk "And people think they've got Type advantage and immediately think they're gonna win.

And that's when ya hit 'em wit' the First-Impression-Waterfall! When they lower their defenses!"

Another scoff.

"'n trust me kiddo, ya ain't gonna like what kind of trainin' we go through-- unless ya like to mess with the cops, anyway."

Or fellow criminals. Or Pokèmon twice his Team's size. Or god.

[ovulationation]

Rivalry

Pairing: frat!Bucky x sorority!reader

Summary: You and Bucky have been academic rivals since the start of college. How will he react when you celebrate your accomplishment at his frat’s party?

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p-in-v (for the love of god just wear a condom), academic rivals, creampie, praise kink

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your breath hitches. He grins at you and lets out a chuckle.

“Fuck you, James.” You snarl.

“Would you, Doc?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time you met James Barnes was move-in day to your Freshman dorm. He lived right next door to you, which means that you had to hear everything that happened. The parties when you were trying to study, the obnoxiously loud music during his morning showers, and the girls that he would bring home in the middle of the night.

Things got worse when you realized that you were both on the pre-med track.

The past three years have been filled with him basically 24/7. With both of you vying for the top of the class, the best teacher recommendations, and the best volunteering experiences to pile up your resumes.

Things got slightly better when you both moved out of the dorms your second year, but the competition returned quickly when you realized you now lived in fraternity and sorority houses directly across the street from each other.

By this year (your third year) you have become full blown academic rivals. Both of you fighting over the very limited summer spots to shadow some of the best doctors in the country at your college’s hospital.

Today, on the last day of finals, you had finally gotten the message that you got one of the spots. All of your work was paying off and you could finally relax before your intense summer started.

That’s how you ended up at the last party of the year. Your friends had dragged you out as a celebration, but they forgot to inform you that this year it was being hosted by none other than James Fucking Barnes’ fraternity. The fraternity that he was just elected the President of for the upcoming year.

Now you stared across the room at him as he lounged back on the couch pushed up against the wall. Something about just the sight of him made your stomach churn, it had since the moment you saw him, but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what. His messy black stubble on his face, his shirt that obviously didn’t even fit right since the sleeves clung to his biceps, the way he spread his legs so casually, taking up more room than needed. That stupid smirk as he made eye contact with you across the room. You started towards him.

You wanted to slap that stupid look off of his stupid face.

You stopped in between his legs, glaring down at him. He cocked his head to the side as he looked up at you, that smirk still spread across his face.

“Congratulations, Doc.” His voice low and casual as he looks up at you with lidded eyes.

“Try not to sound too excited, James.” You roll your eyes.

“But I’m so excited, I get to see you every day this summer.” His eyes rake up your body, taking in your short skirt. You feel a shiver run over you as his eyes meet yours again.

“You got the other spot?” You scoff.

“Yep,” he grins up at you, leaning forward in his seat.

He reaches a hand out to rest against the side of your bare thigh, causing goosebumps to pop up along the flesh. Your knees feel weak.

“Maybe we should carpool?” His head tilts to the side as he looks at you under his lashes.

“I would rather walk barefoot on hot gravel,” you deadpan, despite the shudder that travels through your body as he starts to ghost his fingers over your skin.

You gesture towards the red cup in his other hand with your chin, “How many have you had, Bucky?”

His eyes light up at the nickname. “Just the one, gotta stay sharp.”

“The internship doesn’t start until next week.”

“Not talkin about the internship.”

Both of his hands slide to the backs of your thighs, pulling you forward and onto his lap. You let out a gasp, looking around at all of the people who are too drunk to pay any attention to the two of you.

His hands rest on top of your thighs, thumbs tracing lazy patterns on the skin.

“W-what are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“It’s too loud, I wanna be able to hear you better.” He leans back again, just staring at you. The start of a dull ache pulsing deep in your abdomen.

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your breath hitches. He grins at you and lets out a chuckle.

“Fuck you, James.” You snarl.

“Would you, Doc?” He smirks and the ache gets stronger.

A beat passes with you staring at him in surprise before he lunges at you. His lips crashing against yours. You pull back in shock, taking in his red cheeks and his pupils blown wide. Then, without even thinking, you crash back into him.

He kisses you hungrily, taking advantage of the first gasp that leaves you to slip his tongue between your lips and explore your mouth eagerly. You feel him grow hard beneath you and you gasp again. You push yourself down against him, feeling his bulge hitting right where you need it.

He groans into the kiss, his hands flying up to grab onto your hips to still your motion, causing you to whine. He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, “My room?” He asks breathlessly.

“Please.”

You jump off of his lap and he tangles his fingers with yours, pulling you through the sea of people and up the stairs to his bedroom.

His room is much cleaner than you would have ever expected. No navy sheets, no empty liquor bottles on the shelves, he even had multiple pillows. His desk had off of his notebooks neatly stacked on top of it.

Bucky shut the door and locked it, turning back to look at you, his cheeks flushed.

You didn’t even have to say anything before he was on you again. Pulling you back to his lap on the bed. This time kissing along your jaw and down your neck.

“Why?” You breathe out, trying to focus on anything besides his lips trailing down your neck.

He pulls back to look at your face, “Why what?”

“Why the sudden switch up?”

He stares at you with a bewildered look, “There wasn’t a switch up, I’ve always liked you.”

Your brows knit together in confusion, “But-“

You’re cut off by his lips reattaching to your skin, now nipping at a sensitive spot underneath your ear. You gasp.

“I thought you liked me too,” he mumbles against your skin. His hands grip your hips, using them to drag you against his clothed erection.

“But,” You’re interrupted by a moan escaping you as his zipper hits your clit through your panties. “You’ve always argued with me and competed against me in everything I did.” Your hands grip his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I was flirting,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His hands push your skirt up to your waist, revealing your panties. His eyes never leave yours as he pushes them to the side and grazes his thumb over your clit.

“I probably shouldn’t have pushed your buttons as much as I did,” he says, his middle finger sliding down to your dripping core, teasing your entrance. “But you’re just so hot when you’re angry.”

You bite your lip to stifle a moan as he pushes his finger inside of you. His finger slowly working inside of you while his thumb rubbed lazy circles against your clit, his other hand still gripping your hip. He watched you like he was studying you, making sure he was hitting just the right spots. Trying to get you off like he was getting graded for it.

His other hand comes up and pulls your bottom lip out from between your teeth, “Wanna hear you, baby.”

You let out a whine as he pushes a second finger inside of you, curling them against that spot that makes you see stars.

“Bucky,” you whimper, feeling that cord inside of you wind tighter.

“I know, baby” He coos, his thumb speeding up its rhythm on your clit.

You clench around his fingers as you come undone, your forehead falling against his shoulder as you grind into his fingers.

Before you’ve completely recovered, you’re being laid onto the bed. Your back hitting the blankets while your legs are still twitching.

Bucky stands in front of you, pulling his shirt off, revealing his toned chest and arms. When could he possibly have the time to go to the gym?

You sit up quickly, reaching for his belt with shaky hands. He chuckles, looking down at you as you pull the front of his jeans open and push them down his legs. Now he’s just in his underwear, leaving nothing to the imagination as his hard cock strains against the fabric.

“You’re getting a little impatient” He smirks down at you.

You look up at him beneath your lashes, wanting to get that stupid smirk off of his face. You grab his waistband and pull it down, causing his cock to spring free.

He groans as you reach out to wrap your hand around his thick length. Your hand pumping him a few times, testing. His hand wraps around your wrist, stopping your movement. You look back into his eyes, now looking down at you like he could devour you whole.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes.” He growls.

You pull your shirt over your head and throw it to the floor, your nipples hardening as they hit the cool air. His breathing picks up as he takes in the sight, his eyes darting between each of your breasts.

You help him pull your skirt off, tearing your panties off with it. Now leaving you both bare. Your eyes raking over each other’s bodies.

He lowers himself to the bed and crawls his way up your body, stopping to plays stray kisses up from your navel, to each breast, and finally back to your lips. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him against you.

His hands ghost over your hips to grasp the backs of your thighs, pulling them apart. He pulls back to lift onto his knees, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and tapping it against your clit.

You gasp, gripping his arms as he slides through your folds.

“Bucky, stop teasing,” You whine, clutching at the sheets in frustration.

“What do you need?” He smirks down at you with that stupid face.

“Need you, please.” You whimper when the tip of his cock hitches into your entrance.

He pushes into you with a low groan. Your slick walls squeeze him tight as he bottoms out inside you. He pants above you, his eyes going back and forth between your face and where you’re connected. His fingers slip down and tease along your folds, collecting your slick. They move up to your sensitive nub and coat it in your juices, rubbing tight circles.

“F-fuck,” you gasp, throwing your head back into the mattress.

“Nuh uh,” Bucky scolds, stopping completely.

You whine and look back to his face. His free hand moves to grip your chin, making sure you’re looking into his eyes before starting his slow, deep thrusts again.

“Want to see your face, pretty girl.”

You nod and fight to keep your eyes from rolling back when the tip of his cock hits that spot inside you.

“I can feel you squeezing,” he groans, his fingers moving faster against your clit. “You gonna cum for me?”

“So close, Bucky.” You whimper, feeling that cord deep inside you about to snap.

His thrusts get faster, hitting that spot relentlessly over and over again. Soon your vision goes blank, moaning loudly as you gush over his cock. He never wavers, still thrusting into you at the same rhythm even as you clamp down around him.

“That’s a good fucking girl.” He coos, angling himself down to capture your lips again.

You moan against his lips. He never gives you a chance to catch your breath after your orgasm, just keeps his unrelenting pace inside you.

His thrusts start to get sloppy as he groans into your mouth, “can I cum inside you?”

You moan at his desperate words, “yes, please Bucky.”

He thrusts a few more times before stilling deep inside you, spilling his cum against your cervix. The feeling of his hot seed spreading through you makes you whine. His face presses into your shoulder as he lazily thrusts into you, kissing a little trail up your neck.

After a few minutes of sloppy kisses and trying to catch your breath, Bucky slips out of you and rolls to lay beside you.

Your chest rises and falls quickly as you turn your head to face him. He’s already looking at you.

His stupid grin plastered back to his face as he leans in to give you a short but hungry kiss.

“This summer is gonna be fun, Doc.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I swear to god writing this felt like pulling teeth for some reason. It def doesn’t feel as good as my last one, but I wanted to try writing again and I was OBSESSED with the academic rivals to lovers trope so here ya go lol

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Slight note about the system of food.

'cause adding it to the large doc might crash my computer?

I've realized that though historical fiction minds this more when set in pre-industrial times, that often fantasy set in agricultural societies doesn't seem to do this, though it should.

So I'll give you an example...

Almost everything in Korean food is centered and bred for two things: Kimchi and soy sauce.

But what you don't realize in your industrialized state how freaking long it takes to make these things and how much planning is involved and how much you have to mind the seasons in order to make it correctly.

Kimchi:

Baekchu (or other vegetables) that's often harvested in fall.

The salt, which was traditionally sea salt was harvested in the spring and summer months.

Garlic is a spring to mid summer crop.

The sweet rice that goes into winter kimchi takes a ton of work to make and can take from Spring to fall.

The fish sauce that goes into Kimchi that helps preserve it for over a year, takes and ENTIRE YEAR to make. Yes, a year. You really, really have to plan on that. And what do you do if the fishing is poor for that year?

Spring onions are faster to grow, but you still have to time it for the fall kimchi making.

The fish are seasonal. For example, Yellow Corvina is taken in Korea in the spring. Shrimp in the summer (June), and anchovies in early spring to fall.

Your timing has to be impeccable and you need an entire year to plan this one dish.

Meanwhile, you, industrialized person, take for granted that you can get fish sauce any time you like and can pour it over kimchi.

In fantasy this could add flavor to your fantasy make up, if your character can only get this dish once a year. It can add political unrest (What do you mean the salt harvest was poor and we're left with the shitty metallic salt), because your characters in an agricultural society will be subject to weather changes, which you get when reading historical fiction and so on. Three seasons of poor harvest, daaaamnn... the people might overthrow their government. There might be new religions that pop up, there might be uprisings because the King and Queen are eating feasts every day while the peasants are eating things that are empty calories.

What I'm saying is that you can't be too entrenched into industrial mindset if you're not writing an industrial setting.

That orange is seasonal and only comes about in a connected system that has winter and a warmer climate.

Maybe there are key foods for your climate that are highly treasured or sought after. Mandarins once were. Cacao. Think a bit about those things and how it might interact with the larger world. When does your plant mature and when can it be harvested? is it different from different climates? There's wars that have been fought over food. (Tea, famously, at least a few times).

A staple crop failing is going to have devastating consequences.

And yet, often in fantasy, I often see people going, ya know what I can eat in the dead of winter, strawberries. Do we have greenhouses? No. Did we have freezers? No. But you know what my character is eating? A strawberry. Yeah, think about that. Strawberries don't preserve well. So plan out the timing of your dishes a bit (to the climate and subsistence system) and it can give a bit of background worldbuilding to your dishes and food.

I do have to say that the small mentions from Rings of Power on what's in season or not and why kinda made me feel like the world and the traveling was more "real" with the Harfoot. There's small references to fall v. spring crops.

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (7)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the tag list just add your username to this DOC

word count | 6,1k words

summary | you leave for the reach, angsty love confession, false rumors travel to king's landing.

tags | (MDNI), SMUT, unprotected sex (this is asoiaf so all sex is unprotected), p in v, death, heavy angst/NO COMFORT, vampire powers, heavy miscommunication

note | I'd be really interested in knowing if you guys made a name for the reader, in my head her name is Krystyna Mikaelson (yes, I googled norse names and chose my fav) So did anyone else read George R.R Martin's blog??? Anyway, I'm just here for Ewan, Olivia and Phia tbh. I was thinking that reader could be a witch. Like I know witches can't be vampires, but Siphoners can. Like just imagine her father was from a Gemini coven, and she doesn't know she has magic and since she's an original, she's her own power source, hence first heretic.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

You had woven yourself into a web of deception, and now, the strands began to unravel. The Hand’s summons rang ominously in your ears, commanding you to escort Prince Jaehaerys to your so-called "home" in the Reach. Yet, the truth was far less straightforward; your true home lay not within the verdant fields of the Reach, nor did it belong to this mortal realm at all.

Time pressed against you—tonight, you would depart from Kings Landing. What could you possibly say to the watchful White Cloaks accompanying you? The question gnawed at you, demanding a rapid strategy as you struggled to quell your rising panic.

For the moment, the Hand had instructed you to gather only your essentials. As the hour of the wolf approached, you prepared to meet the call at the courtyard and bid a bittersweet farewell.

Your hands moved with urgency, tossing your cherished Mikaelson amulet into a trunk, alongside an array of simple dresses that would serve you for the arduous journey ahead. But amidst the flurry of preparation, the creaking of your chamber doors momentarily pierced through your focus. The air thickened with the unmistakable scent that sent a thrill down your spine, a presence you knew too well.

Stubbornly, you continued to pack, resolutely ignoring his entrance. You were a fool playing a game rigged against you—fostering feelings for a prince destined for a mortal being. Unlike your sister Rebekah, who pinned her affections upon every charming face, you fought against the tide of your own heart. Yet, in the shadows of your denial, an undeniable pull towards Aemond Targaryen had ensnared you, leaving you trapped in a whirlwind of desire and longing.

“I knew something would eventually go awry,” he murmured from the shadows, his tone laden with the weight of foresight.

You stubbornly continued to gather your belongings, your hands trembling ever so slightly. “I know not of what you speak,” you replied, defiance lacing your words like poison.

The atmosphere shifted as Aemond crossed the threshold, his presence a storm—intangible yet fierce. You felt the warmth radiating off him, enveloping you as he positioned himself behind you, the scent of dragonfire and leather filling your senses. “Whenever I find a fleeting moment of happiness, it is whisked away quicker than it appeared. The day I claimed Vhagar, and now, as I stand here with you,” his voice wavered, betraying an edge of vulnerability.

You clenched your jaw, a frown creasing your delicate features as an unbidden ache tightened around your heart. “I do not know how long I shall be gone,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Strong hands found your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his chest, a silent promise wrapped around you as he whispered, “It matters not; I shall await your return, no matter how long it may take.”

With a pained sigh, you turned to confront him, your eyes glistening with unspoken sorrow. “You shouldn't.”

Aemond's brow furrowed, confusion etched across his handsome face as he tightened his grip, unwilling to let you slip away. “Why would you utter such foolishness?”

Your insides twisted as you longed to lay bare the truth that lay heavy on your heart. A truth about your eternal curse—a vampire destined to walk the earth forever, but never to grow old alongside him, to bear him no heirs. Instead, you shook your head, you voice trembling as you whispered, “A prince cannot wed a bastard.”

His brow knitted deeper in perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“I am not my father's daughter,” you confessed, the words tasted bitter as they left your lips. “And that alone should be reason enough for you to forsake any thought of marrying me.”

The admission struck you like a blade, a noose tightening around your spirit. Aemond’s disdain for bastards echoed hauntingly in your mind—his vitriol directed at those he deemed unworthy. If claiming your own truth was the only path to forging a distance between the two of you, then so be it. You would bear the burden of his scorn, if it meant sparing him from the shadows that clung to your existence.

In a flicker of desperation, you realized the power you held—the gift of compulsion. You could erase every whispered promise and shared secret, rendering him a stranger to your existence. Yet, the thought pierced your heart like a dagger; to be forgotten was a torment worse than heartbreak. Aemond’s scorn would be a balm compared to losing him entirely, for you would rather endure his hatred than vanish from his memory.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for the inevitable scorn, the revulsion you feared would pour forth from his lips. Instead, you felt his hands, warm and tender, gripping your face with an intensity that stole your breath. “Look at me,” he urged, his voice a gentle command.

With reluctance, you opened her eyes, meeting his piercing violet gaze that seemed to see through to your very essence. "I do not care," he declared, as though his unwavering love could alone mend the fractures within your heart.

A tidal wave of anger surged through you—not directed at him, but ignited by the very depth of his relentless love. With a swift motion, you pushed him away, desperation fueling your words as they spilled forth like a torrent. “You should care! You must understand, Aemond— I am not good for you, and I am certainly not worthy of your love.”

Aemond’s frustration prickled in the air as he gestured animatedly, his brows knitting together as if you had unleashed a storm within him. “And who are you to declare yourself unworthy? Do you think Aegon worthy of the Iron Throne?”

You let out a derisive scoff, the incredulity igniting your tone. "Comparing me to Aegon? That is a completely different situation," you stressed, your words punctuated with defiance.

"I cannot fathom your urge to push me away," Aemond's voice rose, desperation lacing his every syllable. The calm mask he wore shattered, revealing the turmoil beneath. “Is it because you do not love me?”

The weight of his question struck you like a lightning bolt. You could feel the tears welling, and you felt the weight of your own heart as it threatened to overflow. Unconsciously, you yelled, “Of course I love you, Aemond! How could I not," The urgency in your voice rose, a plea wrapped in desperation. “But what you fail to grasp is—”

“You love me," All traces of anger evaporated from his expression; instead, a spark of something else ignited in his eyes as he latched onto your statement.

You faltered, momentarily confused. “What?”

“You love me,” he echoed, his voice rising with fervor, amplifying the truth hanging in the air like a spell.

With a scoff, you shook her head, trying to dismiss the revelation. “That is not the point of the matter, Aemond—”

“It is indeed the point,” he countered, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, cradling your face in his hands. “Because you love me, and I love you.”

A weary sigh escaped your lips, the weight of his insistence pressing down on you. “Aemond, you’re not hearing me.”

“I am,” he replied earnestly, his thumbs brushing softly against your cheek, “I hear you, and yet your heart speaks a truth that cannot be silenced: you love me.”

And as Aemond leaned closer, that fierce violet eye consuming your own, your defenses began to crumble. His lips brushed against yours, igniting a spark that uncoiled like wildfire within you. Resistance became a ghost, fading in the heat of your shared breath as your mouths melded together. Aemond's tongue slid past your lips, a tantalizing invasion, and you found herself yielding to the irresistible pull of desire, your essences intertwining in a dance as ancient as the realms you inhabited.

With each caress from his skilled hands, the world around you faded into oblivion, thoughts dispersing like ash in the wind. You clutched at his neck, your fingers tangling in his silver locks as you deepened your kiss, hungry for more. Aemond's grip roamed boldly across your form, igniting a fire beneath your skin that made your pulse quicken—a symphony of passion building between the two of you. You could feel the unmistakable hardness of his desire pressing against you, stirring a yearning that enveloped you.

As the kiss broke, your breaths mingled, thick with anticipation. Aemond trailed hot kisses along the delicate curve of your neck, his lips sending tremors through your body. A gasp escaped your lips as he scooped you up with effortless strength, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your body fitting perfectly against his as he pressed you closer. Your bodies met, his erection unmistakable even through the barriers of your clothing, igniting a primal need that demanded resolution.

He carried you to the nearest table, as he laid you down, the cool surface contrasted with the heat emanating from your bodies. Aemond’s fingers deftly hiked up the hem of your dress, each inch sending electric thrills along your spine, leaving your breathless.

"Do you want this?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with a primal urgency that stirred something deep within you, all of your hesitation gone.

With languid desire pooling in between your legs, you yielded, your desperation spilling over into your voice as you breathed, "Take me now, Aemond. I wish to feel you in me, even after I've departed."

His response to your words was immediate and animalistic, a predatory instinct awakened. A growl rumbled deep in his chest, words lost to the fervor that gripped him. Like a tempest unleashed, he tore away the delicate fabric that separated the two of you, casting it aside with a fervent urgency. His fingers deftly unfastened the laces of his trousers, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

In an instant, he pulled you closer, your bodies colliding with an electric urgency. The tip of his cock grazed your slick heat, a tantalizing tease that sent ripples of desire coursing through your veins. With each passing moment, your body ached for him, the need swelling within you like a tide crashing against the shore.

“Please,” you breathed, your tone rich with longing, “I cannot wait any longer.”

Before you could utter another plea, Aemond surged forward, his curved tip breaking through the barrier of your softness. Moments stretched into eternity as he filled you, a divine sensation that stole your breath. It felt like fire and ice intertwined, the ecstasy consuming you both.

As you joined together, he leaned over you, your faces mere breaths apart. His lips found yours, capturing the essence of your fervent connection in a searing kiss that tasted of bloodlust and boundless craving.

You were not a creature of restraint, especially not in the heat of the moment. With a sly, vixen-like grace, you entwined her legs around Aemond's waist, ensnaring him effortlessly. The force of your pull sent him slamming into you, your bodies colliding with a fervor that made the very air sizzle with electric desire. Aemond groaned, a primal growl escaping his lips as he felt the intoxicating warmth envelop him completely; he was ensnared by you as if caught in a hunter's trap.

Your soft moans echoed like a siren's song, urging Aemond on as your lips trailed kisses down the cool expanse of his alabaster skin. Each kiss was deliberate; it was a tantalizing dance between temptation and control. Your fangs tingled with the hunger for his fiery dragon blood, simmering ever closer to the surface, but for now, you quelled that urge with sheer willpower.

Yet Aemond, with his predatory instincts ignited, began to thrust into you with a relentless rhythm, your flesh meeting with a damp slap that resonated through the great hall like a heartbeat as Aemond thrust himself into your cunt over and over. The air thickened with the sweet scent of lust, pleasure, and something darker that lingered in the wake of your intensity.

“When will you truly understand?” Aemond rasped, his breath quickening as he plunged into you with fervor. The rhythmic, wet sounds reverberated softly in the room, his hand finding its way to your most sensitive spot, teasing your clit with skilled flicks. “You were made for me, just as I was for you.”

Pleasure surged through your veins, overwhelming your senses as you murmured, “I love you.”

With deliberate movements, Aemond traced slow, firm circles on your pearl, lowering his body closer to yours as he whispered against your lips, “I love you.”

A soft whine escaped your lips as your body tightened around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you in a blinding storm of sensation. Aemond was drawn to your peak, his own release spiraling just behind yours. He let out a deep groan, his essence spilling inside you as he collapsed against you, panting, entirely lost in the moment.

You felt Aemond's warm breath against your skin as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Nuhon,” he murmured, his words carrying an electricity that entwined your very essence with his. (Mine)

For a fleeting moment, you tightened your grip on him, reluctant to sever the bond that pulsed between you. Yet, time was against you, and Aemond slowly withdrew himself, his gaze piercing into yours, leaving an ache in the space inside you. A soft gasp escaped your lips; the void he left behind felt cavernous, devoid of his heat, as you only felt emptiness.

Silently, you watched as he regained his composure, the delicate dance of his fingers deftly lacing his trousers. As he turned, casting his attentive eye around the chamber, he picked up a handkerchief with a gentle touch.

What followed was an act more intimate than what the two of you had just done—the careful way he wiped away the remnants of your shared passion felt surreal. Aemond's hands were gentle, almost reverent, as he smoothed your skirts back into place, making you feel cherished in a way that transcended the physical.

His hands found their home on your waist, solid yet gentle, your fingers instinctively wrapping around his shoulders. With a graceful lift, he eased you from the tabletop, setting you down on the cold stone floor. His gaze shifted downwards, landing on your stomach, and a wave of panic surged through you, yet you instinctively placed your hand over your stomach, wishing to shield it from his penetrating stare.

“You must drink moon tea before you depart,” he murmured, his voice laced with a trace of regret, as though he carried the weight of unspoken truths.

A harsh swallow caught in your throat. It was an empty act for you to do, as your womb lay barren, yet the implications of his words hung heavy in the air. You turned your gaze away from him, a flicker of vulnerability dancing across your features, and nodded nonetheless.

His hand, warm and reassuring, cupped your cheek, gently guiding your eyes back to his. "I shall fetch some for you. Wait here, I will return shortly."

Silently, you nodded, feeling the electrifying brush of his lips against yours in a fleeting kiss, a soft collision of breath that sent shivers through your being. It was a moment suspended in time, brief yet profound, leaving you yearning for more. But before you could fully savor it, he withdrew, leaving your chambers cloaked in the bittersweet essence of his absence.

You busied yourself, gathering the few belongings you possessed, when Aemond returned with striking swiftness. A sense of discomfort washed over you as you drank the vile tea, acutely aware of his watchful eye.

After a brief silence, you dared to glance up at him, a question dancing on your lips. "Do you intend to escort me to the courtyard?"

His gaze remained piercing, an unwavering ember in the flickering light. "Indeed," he replied with a hum that resonated between you.

A sigh escaped you as you reached for your trunk of belongings, but before you could grasp it, Aemond’s hand was there, lifting it away with a possessive ease. A small spark of frustration flickered within you, yet words eluded your lips as you and he made your way through the dim hallways toward the courtyard.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and palpable, each lost in private thoughts as you pushed open the grand doors leading into the courtyard. A sea of anxious faces greeted you, their attention fixed squarely on your arrival.

Shame washed over you as you realized you were the last to come forth, and with Aemond at your side, the scrutiny felt even more intensified. Yet, this was a moment that demanded courage. You squared your shoulders and set your gaze ahead, making your way toward Helaena.

Her eyes danced with sorrow as she stepped forward, cradling her sleeping son, and placing him tenderly into your arms. You held him protectively, your voice dropping to a fervent whisper. “I promise I shall protect him with my life.”

Helaena's expression softened, her hand gently caressing the boy’s delicate face before nodding in earnest agreement. As you turned, your gaze met Aegon’s, his watchful eyes drilling into you, fixated on the sleeping prince nestled securely in your embrace.

With a steadying breath, you made your way toward the carriage, but a hand on your shoulder halted your steps. You turned to find Alicent, her eyes reflecting a sadness that tugged at your heart. She offered you a tight smile, squeezing your shoulder in a gesture of support. “You’re performing a great service for the crown,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. You could only nod in acknowledgment as she added softly, “Promise me you’ll look after yourself.”

“Of course, My Queen,” you murmured, tightening your hold on Jaehaerys, his warmth a comforting presence against your chest.

Her smile deepened, and she said, "I will pray for the safety of both you and Jaehaerys."

“Thank you, Queen Mother,” your heart swelled at her words, while you whispered the word 'mother' as if it was sacred.

As you stepped into the carriage, you turned once more, your gaze locking with Aemond’s, unspoken words hung heavy in the air between you. Just then, a white cloak swept to close the door, sealing you and the sleeping prince in an intimate cocoon of silence.

When Jaehaerys stirred awake, panic etched across his delicate features, his bright violet eyes wide with confusion, had required an abundance of soft whispers and lots of patience from you. With tenderness, you had reassured him, carefully explaining the necessity of his departure, a necessary measure for his safety.

“What of Jaehaera?” he inquired, his voice laced with anxiety as he searched your face for answers.

A frown tugged at your lips as you deliberated, knowing the harsh truth—that his life must take precedence, for he was the heir. Instead, you offered a gentle smile, fabricating a reassuring lie. “She is being taken somewhere else, my Prince.”

“And Shrykos?” the small prince pressed, his tiny hands fiddling with one of the lemon cakes hastily packed in by the Queen Dowager.

You gazed down at Jaehaerys, who nestled against your side, “Shrykos and Morghul will remain safe within the Dragonpit,” you whispered softly.

A deep sigh escaped him, a pout forming on his lips as he burrowed deeper into your embrace. “I've never been away from Mama or Jaehaera before..." he murmured, his small frame trembling with a mix of fear and longing.

Wrapping an arm around him, you tightened your hold, "Fear not, my prince. I will keep you safe. And soon, you will be reunited with them," you murmured.

You were suffocating in boredom. Two endless days cooped inside this rickety carriage left you feeling more drained than when you began. The road to Highgarden loomed ahead, a serpentine path promising nearly a month's worth of dreary travel. Restlessness gnawed at you, a specter whispering in your ear, as you devised a plan.

Murdering the three White Cloaks tasked with your escort was an appealing thought. Yes, it would be regrettable, but the crude vulgarities spilling from their lips, laced with the foulest lechery as they leered at you, twisted the notion into something almost justifiable.

Once the deed was done, once the lifeblood of those pompous guards stained the earth beneath you, you would take Jaehaerys and make your way back to King's Landing. You would craft a tale of treachery—how you were ambushed by Rhaenyra's sympathizers, forcing you to retreat and return.

As Jaehaerys slept peacefully beside you, his form curled like a contented cat, you decided now was the best time to act. With delicate care, you shifted him onto his back, ensuring he remained undisturbed. You then directed your attention to the partition that separated your lavish prison from the brutish guards beyond.

With a purposeful knock, you roused their attention, your senses heightened, attuned to the disgruntled murmurs that reached your ears as the carriage shuddered to a halt. The door swung open abruptly, revealing Ser Loren, his face taut with irritation, the kind one might expect of a man dragged from the warmth of the sun into the chill of night.

“What,” he snapped, brows furrowing with annoyance, the tone of a man used to being in command.

In response, you offered him an enchanting smile, sweet as nectar dripping from a ripe fruit, and raised a hand to cup his cheek. The confusion flitted across his features, but your grip was steadfast as you redirected his gaze to meet yours.

“Ser Loren,” you murmured, the subtle power of your compulsion thrumming through you like a siren's song. “I need you to slay your fellow guards for me.”

His eyes widened, the flicker of uncertainty sparking a thrill within you. Yet, you tightened your hold, your voice dropping to a velvety whisper as you compelled him anew. “Do not utter a word,” you commanded softly. “You will carry out my will without hesitation, and when that is done…you shall take your own life.”

“Now go,” you urged, the finality of your words binding him as surely as any ancient spell.

As he departed, you closed the door with a soft click and settled back beside the peacefully slumbering Jaehaerys, the anticipation coursing through you like a potent elixir. Through your enhanced hearing, you could make out Ser Loren’s hesitant movements as he drew his sword. The air was thick with tension as you tuned into the muffled voices of his comrades, their puzzled murmurs a prelude to chaos.

Then came the dreadful sound of steel meeting flesh, followed by the piercing screams of two men, echoing in stark contrast to the quiet of your carriage. The ritual continued—a whimper preceding yet another stinging strike of blade on flesh—until an oppressive silence fell, wrapping around you like a shroud.

Rising to your feet, you opened the door and stepped out into the chaos. The sight that met your eyes was macabre: the fallen guards lay sprawled upon the ground, their once-pristine white cloaks now marred with blood, a stark contrast to the pale of their skin. Only the soft whicker of the horses broke the stillness.

With a satisfied hum, you turned your attention back to the carriage, intent on retrieving Jaehaerys. By horseback, you would make your way back to King’s Landing. Slipping back inside, you knelt beside the sleeping prince, your heart sinking as you perceived an ominous shift in Jaehaerys.

Gently placing your hand against his brow, a frown twisted your features upon feeling his rising temperature. Panic bubbled within you as realization struck: the boy was burning with fever, likely the consequence of his first venture beyond the castle walls. His frail immune system was struggling against the onslaught of illness. Children, as you knew all too well, were vulnerable, and fevers could turn grave in the blink of an eye.

Time was of the essence; you needed to find safety for him, a sanctuary where he could heal swiftly.

With care, you gathered him into your arms, cocooning him in a soft blanket to protect his fragile form. Then, you climbed onto a horse with him nestled closely against you. Urging the steed forward, you set your sights on the nearest village, aware that King’s Landing would have to wait—your priority was the precious life cradled in your embrace.

What you were blissfully unaware of was how swiftly whispers of three slain white cloaks would flutter to the ear of King's Landing. Such is the nature of tidings that venture too far from their origin—truth, like shadows, warps in the light of rumor.

What reached the capital painted a grim picture: three white cloaks brutally cut down, their carriage reduced to cinders, with the lady and the prince within consumed by flames. Perhaps there lay some truth to this tale; after you'd fled with Prince Jaehaerys, desperate commoners stumbled upon your carriage, and in their frenzy, laid it to waste.

And so, that account flew to King's Landing with the swiftness of a raven on the wing.

"He's dead," Aegon breathed, his voice thick with disbelief, as he struggled to absorb the weight of the news. "He's dead!"

In a fit of rage, Aegon hurled a glass goblet against the stone wall, shattering it into a thousand shards, his fury echoing within the council chamber. "I’ll kill them all!"

He pounded the table with sufficient force that the goblets rattled, while the rest of the council sat in stunned silence, their eyes upon him. "This is war! I declare war! I declare war!" His voice rose, raw and strident.

With cheeks flushed and a face streaked with remnants of tears, Aegon turned to his Grandsire, his expression a tempest of anger and anguish. "This is your doing! All of this is your fault!"

Alicent, glancing nervously between her father and her son, sought to defuse the tension crackling in the air. "He did not kill Jaehaerys, Aegon," she insisted softly, her voice trembling with urgency.

"No! He merely sent him forth to meet his doom!" Aegon shouted, his despair morphing into a howling tempest.

Otto's gaze remained steady but weary as he leaned back in his seat, allowing a heavy sigh to escape him. "It was a miscalculation on my part."

"A miscalculation that cost my son's life!" Aegon's anguished cry reverberated through the chamber.

"And yet, no one was privy to Jaehaerys’ departure, which suggests treachery lies among us," Lord Larys Strong observed softly, his voice laced with a chilling certainty.

Aegon turned his gaze to the council, suspicion etching lines on his youthful face. "Then it could very well be any one of you!" He thrust a finger towards the council members, prowling behind the table as a predator.

“While Lord Larys raises a point of merit,” Otto continued, as Aegon sank heavily into the head chair, the weight of his grief palpable as tears fell freely down his cheeks, “Jaehaerys will do more for us now than a thousand knights in battle. You will have your war, Your Grace. But if you wait a short time, you may yet double your strength.”

"Mother," Aegon whispered, his voice a fragile wisp swirling in the air, laden with unshed sorrow and searching for comfort.

Alicent stepped closer, her hand settling gently on her son’s shoulder. "The Hand sets on a difficult path, my darling, but it, it might be the right one."

Otto, with an air of finality, declared, "Let us continue with the funeral procession for Jaehaerys. He shall be honored with a grand casket, and riding behind it, the Queen, and with her, the Queen Dowager."

Alicent shook her head in disagreement. "No, I no longer wish for it to become some grand spectacle."

“The realm must see the sorrow of the crown,” Otto asserted, his tone brooking no argument, “a sorrow best expressed through its most gentle souls.”

Casting one last mournful glance at her son, Alicent firmed her resolve. “I think you’ll all agree the king himself must be spared.”

“No. No. It cannot be true,” Helaena whispered, her voice barely above a breath, as she shook her head in disbelief. Alicent stepped forward, the weight of the grim tidings looming over her like a storm cloud, heavy with sorrow.

“The carriage… it was consumed by flames,” Alicent spoke, her voice trembling with the pain of the knowledge she bore.

Helaena’s denial tightened its grip on her heart; she paced restlessly, the fabric of her gown whispering against the stone floor. “She promised me,” Memories of warm embraces and gentle reassurances echoed in her mind, each one a testament to the promise that now lay shattered, “She swore she would protect him.”

“Helaena—” Alicent's hand reached out, a mother’s instinct to comfort surging forth.

Yet Helaena recoiled from the touch, wrestling her emotions. “They are alive, I can feel it,” she insisted, the desperation in her voice soaring.

“There were no survivors,” Alicent replied, her tone heavy with the weight of acceptance, an acceptance that felt like betrayal.

Helaena’s eyes glistened with tears as she twisted her fingers together, seeking solace in their familiar dance. Alicent took a deep breath, gathering herself before adding, “The funeral for Jaehaerys will go on as planned, and… we’ve been asked to ride on a wagon throughout the city.”

With a swift turn, Helaena faced away from her mother, leaning against a sturdy timber beam that framed her bed. “I don’t want to,” she murmured, her voice defiant yet frayed.

Alicent’s expression twisted with empathy; she understood her daughter’s pain all too well. “Neither do I,” she admitted, her heart heavy with the weight of duty. “But when a thing like this happens… a blow to the king is a blow to the realm. When the people share our grief, they draw closer to us.”

“I don’t want them closer,” Helaena shot back, “I don't know them.”

“Sometimes, we have to pretend,” Alicent whispered.

Defiance shattered, the tears Helaena had valiantly held at bay now cascaded down her cheeks. The truth settled in her chest like a stone. “Why?” she questioned, her voice choked with pain.

Alicent stepped closer, “We are representatives of the throne. We have a duty,” she reaffirmed.

Helaena offered no reply, her silence a testament to her grief. Instead, she turned away, allowing her tears to flow freely as she braced herself to mourn not only the loss of her son but the fading light of her dearest friend.

You were dead.

Those haunting words echoed relentlessly in Aemond's mind, a cruel mantra he could not shake off. You were gone, and he would never again behold your celestial beauty, nor bask in the warmth of your radiant smile. The soft comfort of your embrace, which had always been his sanctuary, was lost to him forever. You were gone, and with that, the future he had imagined—a life entwined with yours, filled with laughter, children, and the tender joys of family—vanished into the ether.

He knew he should have fought against the tides of fate, should have raised his voice and insisted on accompanying you to The Reach. But in that fateful moment, he had faltered, and now the price was your death.

The one soul who had loved him unconditionally—perhaps the only soul that ever had.

In the throes of despair, he had ravaged his own chambers in a storm of sorrow, crashing furniture and shattering glass. Yet, even amidst the chaos, he found no solace. Driven by a desperation he could hardly understand, he stumbled to your chambers, longing to find you smiling, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.

But the truth awaited him there, stark and unforgiving: your room stood as a mausoleum, empty and frigid, a world devoid of the warmth you once brought. A wretched reminder lingered in the air, a bittersweet trace of your scent that was now inseparable from his suffering.

And so, in his agony, he lay upon your bed, a canvas of despair draped in the remnants of your essence. He curled around your pillow, desperately inhaling the lingering fragrance of you, each breath a silent prayer for your return as tears slipped from his eyes, tracing paths down his cheeks.

There was a desperate thought that flirted with the edges of his grief—perhaps he should end it all, surrender to the oblivion that beckoned. In that darkness, he imagined a reunion with you, a sweet escape from the relentless pain of war and dread. Yet even in his muddled sorrow, a flicker of sanity held him back, urging him to cling to the slivers of his own existence, the remnants of a life that felt achingly incomplete without you.

Even if he were to shatter this fragile existence, he knew deep down that he would not be reunited with you; heaven would welcome your pure soul, while he would drown in the torment of hell's grasp.

Shame twisted in his gut as he found himself in the Blue Pearl, entwined with a woman who was not you. The very same woman who had robbed him of his innocence so many years ago, the one who had snuffed out the last vestiges of his untainted childhood.

"The love of my life is dead," Aemond murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper against Madam Sylvi's soft, perfumed skin. He was acutely aware of the hollowness inside him, a well from which no more tears could flow.

"You are still young, my prince. There will be many more to come," Sylvi cooed, her voice a melodic attempt to soothe his anguish. But her words only ignited a flicker of anger within him. How could she presume to understand? How could she speak of future loves when in his heart, there was only room for you?

"The last time I laid eyes on her, she told me she loved me," he said, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could summon forth that cherished moment. "I was the happiest I had ever been. And yet, how swiftly that joy was cruelly ripped away."

"Daemon sent them to kill me," he continued, his tone darkening with the weight of truth. "I was out."

"You were here," Sylvi stated.

"In truth, I am proud… that he considers me such a foe," Aemond confessed, a grim satisfaction threading through his grief. "And that he seeks to murder me in my bed—he fears me. His actions have borne my lady love’s tragic end, and he will answer for it."

"As well he should," Sylvi replied, her gaze intense. "The boy is grown into a man." She leaned closer, her lips hovering tantalizingly close to his.

"Mm. No. Not here," Aemond said with a frown, his body recoiling from her advances. Disgust flooded through him as he shifted away from her, seeking refuge on her thighs, though his thoughts were elsewhere. The brothel faded into the background as memories of you flooded his mind—your laughter, your warmth, the connection that ignited his very soul.

(I love making these vids)

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@barnes70stark @izabell26 @anyisaravia2001 @urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @ellie-xOxo @hueanhdang @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @caged-birdies-blog @darktrashsoulbear @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy @goddesslilithmoriarty @sunset18rose @filmflux @ln8118 @esposadomd @sara-grimes-yess @littybeech @gyneve @https-kokomi @void21 @yariany02 @baby-w3-ar3-infinite @baby-i-can-see-your-reylo @niktwazny303 @missyviolet123 @caribbeangal @ggukiespace @levimaids @Lokisgoddessofpower @anakilusmos @spacexdrago @strawberymilktea @snowtargaryen @fiction-fanfic-reader @feelingfaye @sxlsvv

[doctorbrown]

Emmett silently curses himself for his choice of words in the moment. Despite Agent Scully's reassurances as to the care being offered toward the DeLorean, the fact still remained that it was being investigated in the first place. Even without the keys, thankfully still on his person, his thorough attention to detail during its construction—something he now regrets in the moment—meant that every important instrument in the cabin was labelled clearly and concisely enough to give even the average layman an idea as to what the vehicle's intended destiny was.

He has spent months upon months in that cabin restructuring and rewiring until everything was in its place that he can picture every display and label and light when he closes his eyes.

Anything and everything in the cabin will be of interest, but perhaps he can lean into his moniker of mad scientist to dispel any further desire to investigate. If there's nothing to be found here but the pet project of an eccentric old inventor, they'll have no further reason to detain him.

What with his growing concern for the state of the time circuits, he doubts he'd be able to keep this up too long. It's a consideration he gives serious thought.

Emmett clasps his hands together. ❝The sub-zero temperatures were the result of one of the modifications I had made to the car. While it serves a functional purpose as a fire-suppression system, as one can never be too safe, it also was meant to fulfil a boyhood science-fiction dream of mine.❞

The best lies have an element of the truth to them, and while he is not being entirely forthcoming, what he offers is not a blatant lie, either.

The complete truth is not an option. Not when he'd already gone to extensive measures to ensure his work would be protected against prying eyes. Not when that would be a reason for them to confiscate the time vehicle, lock him up and force him to give up the schematics and all subsequent notes. Not when he's certain the truth will be laughed off in the same breath as UFO sightings and claims of the existence of Bigfoot.

❝Are you familiar with the works of HG Wells and Jules Verne? I had always wanted a vehicle inspired by the machines in those novels, and so I created something to that effect. I figured since I was now retired, it was the perfect use of my time. The system must have malfunctioned as a result of the crash. It's perfectly harmless, I assure you.❞

Emmett leans forward, measuring the look on Agent Scully's face, the scholarly hunger for knowledge sparkling in her eyes. It reminds him of himself and his own scientific endeavours, it reminds him of Marty every time he has a new invention to show him regardless of whether or not it works, and Emmett knows all-too well how enticing it is to puzzle through a scientific mystery.

Perhaps, under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed having a conversation with her about their respective fields. Right now, all he wants is to expedite his release.

He wrings his hands.

❝Well, that's reassuring, though I'd say you're currently the only one of that opinion; that I'm not an extraterrestrial. Beyond simple cosmetic changes, my alterations to the car arose out of a need to make it a more viable vehicle. Unfortunately, while it holds tremendous aesthetic value, they did not factor in the weight of the stainless steel in their considerations for engine choices. Volatile isn't the word to describe it; the modifications are delicate, important, and quite sentimental. So you can understand my concern.❞

"I promise that the utmost caution is being taken as regards your vehicle," Scully assured him. "My partner simply wishes to examine its current state, as well as what might have caused such a...dramatic crash." She didn't mention that Mulder was as intrigued by the theoretical UFO connection as the local police department, or that his enthusiasm to take on this case came from the simple fact that this whole area was infamous for its so-called alien sightings. The fact they were often proven to be military aircraft or even weather balloons was something that appeared to be wilfully ignored.

"However, I'm more interested in these repairs you mentioned," she continued, choosing to take a seat, not only to take control over the situation, but in the hopes that a calm and neutral demeanour might help dull the erratic nature of the 'repair man' in question. His tension and worry was so palpable in the room it was almost visible.

"Now, I'll admit that cars aren't my particular area of study, but I am a scientist and I don't know of any engine, any car, that enters sub-zero temperatures when it's brought to a stop. By crash or otherwise," she added wryly. The scene hadn't exactly looked as though the stop had been made on purpose. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that the entire area, and the car, had been doused in liquid nitrogen if not for the fact no molecular structure appears to have been effected in the slightest." Her blue eyes widened with numerous unspoken questions as she tried to understand what was going on here. Mulder might be fascinated by the promise of aliens and hidden spacecrafts, but there was a real scientific anomaly here, an actual puzzle to be solved, and she had to admit she was as fascinated by it as she was eager to find the answers.

"I also can't understand what any of your 'repairs' to your car could have possibly achieved," she continued. "Though your concern over my partner's attention to the vehicle, combined with the temperatures and the altered engine and wiring, leads me to believe that what you have is something potentially volatile." And if it was anything that was putting Mulder in danger...

"I don't think you're an alien, Dr Brown" she told him simply. "But I do think you're hiding something, and the only way I can help you is if you tell me the truth."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

🤠🫶:

I am CACKLING like a cartoon villain oh my GOD you are a genius!!! Of course the toxic king breaks his back of COURSE he does the fucking idiot (affectionate), so there's fuck-all he can do with reader's big announcement that this was all worth it and he can totally get some...yknow, in a couple months. AHHHHH. And she just wanted to give him something to look forward to, motivation for the physical therapy <33 (she boops his nose while he lays there wishing for death and cowering from her, of course she does, omg. i love them your honor!!)

and maybe she gets more confident now that he can't fucking move 💀💀 (lmao, oh god. König if you weren't such a menace this would have been easier for her a lot earlier and nobody would be in this situation) and maybe this leads to way more sensual  touching from her on her own initiative; she's curious, after all, and she does like him a lot and she's just trying to help him get better, you know? and König eats that shit up, starts telling her all about these itches and sore muscles he can't reach, could she be a dear (trying to act like he's not literally begging for her touch) and then he basically blacks out the first time her hands linger and drift, but probably better that than the things he was going to say to her. So König wants to die, this is too much, he's done, he's a goner each time she visits him. and damn her, she's a devoted little thing, never misses visiting hours. Always so sweet and caring towards him and it's the perfect image of a faithful, doting housewife without the wife or the house or the sex part of it lmao. And of course he can’t move when all this is happening!!! so basically just more torture and his mind just kind of breaks into little tiny pieces held together by demented lovesick lust-filled fantasies. he says some absolutely filthy things (makes the cunt licking look family friendly in comparison), he can't control it really anymore, and poor reader is shocked/horrified and blushing furiously, but thinks it's the medications and the pain and whatnot, tries to be understanding, only chides him once she gets her shock under control (and he's actually stone cold sober the entire fucking time lmao, but he ain't telling her that, she'd run if she knew). 

AND THEN MAYBE~~ (dun dun dun) one day reader is FINALLY reaching under the stupid hospital bed blanket - he can feel her soft little fingertips and carefully manicured nails travel down his abs, trace the V of his hips (my man is going to black out again, good lord) and she's looking at him with big round eyes and she's nervous she's going to do it wrong and he won't like it (as if), and it's taking FOREVER for her to get her hand between his legs bc sweet little thing just wants to do it right, and he's out of his mind, half-crying, whisper-begging at this point (it's probably not even English, not German either, just mindless pleas). Her hand FINALLY wraps around his length and he's lucky he doesn't cum right then and there; she's blushing so violently at taking a man in her hands for the first time and she's seeking HIS approval with those pretty doe eyes as she bites her lip. So of course that's when there's a knock at the door (the universe hates him, he's going to scream, whoever this is is lucky he can't move and they might die anyway from the blast radius of sheer rage) and a doctor comes in for daily rounds. Reader barely has time to yank her hand back before doc sticks his head through the privacy curtains and yep our man's heart might actually just stop, he is just going to keel over right then and there. 

so not even a handjob for our poor king <3 if he doesn’t die (lol) he transfers to in-home care IMMEDIATELY and finally gets reader to himself in a more private setting where he can lock the fucking door. this is the part where I look away lmao, I'd leave him blue-balled & suffering forever ...am i a mean person?? also RIP to that doctor. this verse is so hilarious & wonderful and i love it, feels like a tug of war between tropes and genres if that makes sense which results in your delightful genius works, thank you thank you <333

This is so beautiful. I am puddle & I can't thank you enough for collaborating & I LOVE YOU Howdy anon 💋 and um, I think I got a little too excited about their first time lol oops (I can't leave him blue-balled forever! Poor man would die of heart failure 🥺)

(Tamara and Demon (1864), Mihály von Zichy)

Word count: 3.7 k

CW: 18+ NSFW. Corruption kink goes brrrr. Masturbating, dirty talking, obsessive/yandere König. Awkward handjob. First time/virgin!reader. Kinda sweet and fluffy 🩷 Also coersion/mildly dubious consent, tread carefully!

A/N: You can find the story of König x virgin!reader and their relationship so far by following the tag (könig x virgin reader)

Oh she visits him alright!

She’s much braver now that König is bedridden and can’t move. They actually spend more time together after the weightlifting accident. The intense stares haven’t gone anywhere, he's actually gotten worse in that department, but otherwise, König is behaving quite nicely.

He seems to like it when she reads to him next to his bed, which is immensely cute in her opinion. Armed with a new book in the crook of her arm, she’s on her way to visit him again for another session.

She's already accustomed to simply floating in after giving his door a light rap. She's also gotten used to the sight of guns and knives and the smell of army storage, even the manly, pungent stench of sweat that lingers on top of it. 

But it’s not the potpourri of masculine military scents that stop her at the door and nearly make her drop her book.

The King himself is lying naked on the bed – well, naked except for the bag of a mask he seems to hold on to like it’s his soul. This time, she doesn’t even see it: her eyes fly straight to the towering erection he’s stroking, urgently with one hand while the other cups a pair of shaved, pale balls.

"König…?" 

The man who calls himself King curses – in German or in English, she can’t tell. The sight of him there, caught red-handed on touching himself, only makes her feel sorry for him. König has nowhere to run and hide, nothing to cover himself with, he's not supposed to even move yet. And he is not the one who should be embarrassed, after all, she's the one who barged in on his privacy. 

Although… König doesn't look embarrassed. 

He only looks drunk and sweaty and in need.

She thinks about turning back and leaving him with hurried excuses because what the hell is she supposed to do…? Read him a book? He is still gripping his cock like it’s a sword or something, breathing like he just ran a marathon. 

And speaking of swords, that weapon is far too big for her... Hell, she doesn’t know much about swords but she would deem that sword far too big for any woman.

If she were clever, she would run away from that stare and that huge, monstrous cock. But she’s not that clever, that much is clear because everyone she’s told she’s dating König have warned her about him. Every cell in her body is warning her of danger, but she keeps running back to him, over and over again…

Well, at least he can’t move, she thinks, takes a hesitant step, and places the book down on a table. Just when she’s about to whisper some calming, soothing words to this beast, the beast speaks.

"Take your clothes off," comes a husky command from the bed, and she freezes with her fingertips still on the cover of her cute little book about German fairytales (she knows König likes his fairytales bloody). 

Normally, she would make a scene out of such audacity. She might even storm out of the room and vow to never speak to him again for daring to talk to her like that.

But… 

He looks so desperate. König looks like a giant bound for torture on that bed. And he's not the only one who has been tormented these past few weeks… The incident at the hospital has plagued her dreams every night as she has tucked herself in with the memories of König's… sword.

Perhaps it would help with his pain if she offers him relief in his time of need. No harm can come from that, surely. She doesn't know how exactly taking her clothes off will help, but if that is his wish, then it’s the least she can do. 

To her and his surprise, her hands drift to the hem of the top she’s wearing. She’s feeling rather wild – something about seeing König completely naked yet unable to move is making her act like this. Like she's the brave one. Like she’s in control now.

Dedicated to her task, she pulls the shirt over her head.

Nothing moves on that bed for a good long while. As far as she can tell, König might've stopped breathing. But by the time she takes her bra off, there’s a swallow under that hood. Then the hand slowly starts to stroke again, the moist, slick sounds continue as her breasts fall free from their confinement. 

She’s breathing heavily too, and the man on the bed is stiff as a stone: every single muscle in his body is pulled taut as he stares at her breasts like they’re the Revelation of John. Then those blue eyes lift to her face just before another command is issued.

"Take off the rest."

"The–the rest…?"

"I just want to watch you." 

His voice is hoarse and croaky, and she feels even more sorry for him – König must be in so much pain and she just keeps on teasing him. She started this, so perhaps it’s better just to see it through. 

What’s crazy though is that he actually moans when she gets out of her pants, socks, and finally, her underwear. The slick sounds of fapping increase, and he’s moaning.

She hasn’t even touched him yet… She’s just standing there before him completely naked, heat pooling low in her belly as König continues to work himself with what looks like both pleasure and pain.

"Komm… Come here," he orders next, out of breath but surprisingly politely, and she has no other option than to approach his bed. She sits down as chastely as possible, then almost jumps back up when a steel-hard thigh brushes against hers.

"Touch it. Ja?" 

Her eyes grow as wide as they can go as she takes in the cock she has touched once before, briefly and under a hospital sheet. Now it’s right there, foreign and demanding. 

Better just to see it through, her mind tweets as her hand reaches out through what feels like water. Like before, there's a sharp intake of air under the hood as she takes him in her hand. It’s even hotter than she remembered, and gives a tight pull the instant her fingers wrap around it. 

"Like this…?" 

"Just like that…"

Her meek little mouse peeps and multiple bats of eyelashes are like drug to him, it seems. The man is as tight as a bowstring when she starts to move her hand up and down, mimicking the motions she just saw him do. They're not as fast as his, and her grip must be way gentler, but she seems to do surprisingly well for an inexperienced virgin. The poor man looks like he’s about to faint on that bed. 

What she doesn’t expect, however, is König to touch her.

A large, warm palm sweeps across her ribs and lands on her breast, softly, as if he's concerned that he might scare her off. She's the one who's stopped breathing now… And then he rubs her, squeezes her. Gently… Reverently.

"You're soft," comes a strained sigh from the bed as she tries to keep her own grip both tight and gentle. She’s starting to get so wet she fears she will stain his sheets. Bewildered, she tries to change her position, but the palm cupping her breast seems to have bound her to the bed too. Nothing moves, except her hand and his as they explore each other. A giant and an angel...

Something hot and wet meets her hand as she strokes him – is he cumming already…? But it can't be, she has heard there’s supposed to be quite a bit of it when a man cums, and there’s only a few ample drops of clear liquid oozing out of the slit on his tip.

"Can't wait for the day I get to make you scream," he rasps, and her heart is hammering in her chest as more cum-like liquid streams from the slit of his cock, adding to the lewd, moist sounds of the handjob she’s giving him.

König doesn’t know she has never even kissed a guy… 

"We'll… we'll get there," she tries to soothe him, thanking her lucky stars this man can't move.

"I want to fuck you," he continues, sounding more and more desperate. "Good and hard… until you cry under me. Want to see if you can take it all in."

"König…"

"It’s a long cock, ja? I can make you squirt."

"König, I'm still a virgin… You can't–"

"Nh–Sorry… sorry."

His head falls back on the pillow, his muscles relax just for the tiniest moment. But if she thought he would finally leave her to it, she was wrong. The hand of a giant killer drops between her legs next. 

She’s sitting on the bed like she would sit on a side saddle, with one leg slightly bent, giving the horniest man on earth good enough access to the heat between her legs. She doesn’t stop him – she doesn’t even want to – as broad fingertips meet her pubic hair and slip between her already slick folds. 

"...Was? Pretty angel is all wet," he comments on her state of mess. Approvingly: like all his fears have suddenly disappeared. 

She has to fight the urge to roll her head back and moan as those agile fingers start to give her full, generous strokes. She almost messes up her rhythm while stroking his cock, which seems to have gotten even harder.

His fingers delve into her with more courage, they tease her tight, tender nub with excited circles. She tries not to jolt and shiver as he makes her even more slick, tries to ignore how her nipples grow hard from that burning stare alone. 

"Such a pretty girl… and so wet. You sure you don't want it?"

She thinks about it – how it would feel if he somehow was able to take her on that bed. If he pushed that cock inside her and if it would hurt or make her moan even more. Even the thought of trying to fit that inside her makes her thighs feel like pudding.

"I don’t know… You're still recovering."

"Heh… That's not a problem. You can be on top. I'll help," he offers as if it’s a gentlemanly thing to do, to help her bounce on that huge cock. 

"I–I'd rather do it the classic way."

"I'll show you classic when I get better," he promises with unconcealed greed. "I'll show you all the other ways too. We’ll do it any way you like."

She tries hard not to whimper when hearing his promise. She tries her best to pleasure the biggest cock she’s ever seen. It’s ridiculous that it’s the only cock she’s ever seen... What sort of a cruel joke was it from the universe to choose this king-sized Austrian to be her first man? 

She wonders how König would react if she told him he’s too big for her.

Would he try to change her mind? Would he have a meltdown? 

Would he cry…? 

She doubts if this man ever cries. The last time a brutal soldier like him shed tears was probably when he was a kid. But he did look like he was about to cry that one time when she booped his nose... 

And despite being a cold-blooded soldier and somewhat awkward at times, König has always been so, so delicate with her. He's tender even now, touching her with the gentlest avarice there is. But that searing stare wants to possess her, devour her, and it makes her bite her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood.

"Sit on my face?" he offers next, this time sounding so desperate it's almost pathetic. 

Sit on his face… 

What would he even do? Lick her? Try to push his tongue inside her while finishing himself?

The thought alone makes her mess up her rhythm again and causes her pussy to pulse more wetness on his fingers. She secretly hopes he would slip at least one of those fingers inside.

"Let me see your cunt," he begs. God – this giant mercenary is begging to see her poor, aching pussy. "Just… let me at least taste you–"

She can’t even reply before the hand between her legs gives a sudden twitch and stops those delicious rubs. Actually, his whole body is going rigid. 

"König…? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm–gonna cum…" 

Oh god.

Oh god ohgod-

She's not sure what gives her more of a fright: the sound that leaves her soldier boyfriend as he cums, or the bright, hot flash of liquid that shoots from the cock in her hand.

He groans like it’s torture. Long and hard, so loud that she’s sure other people can hear it in the neighboring rooms, perhaps even further than that. There’s one, two, three spurts of thick, hot liquid, after that, she loses count because it spills to coat his stomach, it runs down her hand, and she’s pumping him in a frenzy while he just keeps on moaning.

"Slow, slow down–" he tries to groan in the middle of his climax and she obeys immediately, reveling in how his cock still throbs in her hand when she finally stops moving altogether. More cum gushes out with every strong pulse, even if the eruptions are less violent. Ropes of it already cover his abs, it coats her hand with thick film – it's far more than she would ever have expected, and a shiver goes through her as she imagines what it must feel like to take all of that semen inside her… 

"Ah… Das war wirklich…" König sighs dreamily while she must be looking like a startled deer.

Yes, that was really something… She doesn’t know what to do with his cock, or her hand, or the mess that coats half his body.

Luckily, he instructs her to take his old shirt from the floor and clean herself with it. She cleans him with it too, dabs the black t-shirt over his muscled stomach, even tries to swipe his crotch with it as gently as she can. 

König looks happier by the minute, looks at her like she’s an angel or something, and when she fully commits herself to getting him cleaned up, he gets another erection. She’s quite horrified – how is this even possible…? She thought men would need at least hours to get it back up again.

"Come on top," he offers, sounding all but seductive with that commanding tone. 

She swallows, thinking if König wants to be a "gentleman" and finish her too. With his tongue... or something else.

"Just for a hug? We don't have to put it in."

She seems to be under some spell tonight, because she simply drops the poor, cum-stained shirt back on the floor and crawls to the bed and on top of him.

König is hot and lean as she presses herself against him, her thighs now straddling the intimidating thing between his legs. Her head falls right beside his mask-covered face, and the smell of guns and fuel and sweat is prominent there, as is his natural odor, the woodland musk she has grown so fond of.

"There we go," his arms go around her waist, pressing her tighter against him. There’s no escape now, she thinks, but like always with König, she eventually softens and relaxes, molds against him… Accepts her fate.

"You did well, Meine Liebe," he even caresses her head as she slowly melts into his hold. "I’m sorry if I frightened you. Will you forgive me?"

"Um, of course."

"A gentleman should always apologize if he has upset his lady. Do you agree?"

"Uh… Yes."

"I promise to be a good man. The best man you could ever hope for."

She bites her lip as König continues to caress her. She’s far from upset, but she doesn’t want to tell him that and excite him too much. Otherwise he might end up hurting himself. He hugs her tight, and seems to have calmed down more than ever.

Is this what an orgasm does to a man...? The change is drastic, and her lover feels warm, and tender, and inviting. He even whispers more promises on her skin. They're nonsensical but gentle, König is probably trying to be romantic, but she can feel how his breaths grow heavier as time goes on. After all, they're both naked, pressed tightly together, closer than ever before, and he's having an erection again...

She tries not to shiver at the things he tells her. The husky promises of love and protection: "You are mine now, ja? Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I will always keep you safe." And then, "You’re still wet, mein Mädchen… How about we practice just a little bit? We'll do it slow. Ja? I will make you moan…"

He coos those things in her ear while holding her in place for his cock. She starts to move on her own accord; it’s like her hips have their own will. Soon, her entrance meets the tip of him, still hot and bulged, and she starts to grind against it with barely restrained greed. She is wet – wetter than ever. 

König curses multiple times under his breath, and she feels so, so filthy for loving how unhinged he is, how unhinged she is – spread wide on top of him like that, trying to get off of the faintest touch of his cock. She’s so soaked that the hot tip of him glides across her folds with no effort at all. 

She feels like she’s doing something forbidden, taking her pleasure from him like that, but König doesn’t seem to know what the word filthy even means. He keeps praising her, guiding her, helping her, telling her how good she feels, that she’s doing so, so well.

Soon, he’s asking to put it in – just the tip. 

She tries her best not to sound too needy as she breathes a soft, mousy "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

He’s panting, few inches of thick cock inside her, and she thinks, did she just lose her virginity? Is this it? Why isn’t it hurting?

“You like that, hmm?”

He feels so, so good, pressing her against him, spreading her legs with his own, trying to feed more of that marvelous thickness inside. It doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. It makes her dizzy to even think what she must be looking like, with her legs spread and a huge cock partly inside her.

She should say something… What was it that he asked? Oh yes, if she likes it. She more than just likes it, and tries to push herself down to get more of him in. König reacts immediately with a ton of praise leveled at her in the softest possible way.

“That's it, that's it, pretty girl, take it in…”

Him cheering her on like that only makes her decide that it’s time to let go and let go for good. But she can’t get him in by herself, not while he’s holding her a prisoner like this.

"More… König, please," she hears herself whimper. 

God, is this all it took...? Him holding her close and letting her find the joys of sex herself? Apparently so, because he sounds goddamn smug when he turns his head to rasp more needy, throaty things in her ear.

"Ah… Knew you'd beg for it… "

His voice makes her inner walls clamp down on him, and that’s when it hurts, but only slightly. She wants him so much that it’s painful. And König… God, he keeps on showering her with praises and promises.

"I'll show you how good it can be… That's it, let me hear you. It's a good cock, ja? Good cock for a pretty girl…"

It’s not even fully in before he starts the thrusts. That’s when she knows she has lost her virginity. She’s being plunged. Not taken… Just… loved, thoroughly and deeply. 

When she moans, finally sounds as filthy as can be, he tells her how tight she is. How good she feels. He says he’s going to cum again soon. But not before her…

He doesn’t need to instruct her to rub her clit on his pelvis in rhythm with the thrusts. She is smart enough to do that by herself. And the thoughts of This is it, I’m not a virgin anymore have turned into Is it possible to cum on your first time…?

Everything’s perfect, all things considered. But there’s something missing.

"König," she swallows arduously. "I’ve never been kissed... Would you– Could you…?"

He stops moving, releases his hold a little. A strong heart is hammering inside his chest, she can feel it against her own fluttering heartbeat. 

Is it stupid of her to ask…? Will he only laugh at her for being so sentimental?

Apparently no, because it’s the warmest possible command that surrounds her this time.

"Lift the mask, angel."

By the time their lips meet, both hesitant and needy, he's fully inside her and holding her like a mountain. She feels like she's in a fairytale now: the only thing that moves is his mouth, and hers. Theirs is a slow, hungry rhythm. 

Her first kiss is not only awkwardly romantic and sweet, it’s sinfully good. 

The kiss also does things she did not expect. Her pussy goes tight around him, so tight that a whimper or two escape her nose, and König only purrs – she feels like the softest little creature in the embrace of a lean jaguar.

And she thinks… 

Why on earth didn't they do this months ago?

[thevalicemultiverse]

“I can’t believe you cheated on me in 1996!”

“Honey…technically we weren’t even dating yet.”

“Yeah? Okay! Well… Then I think we should set some new ground rules for the Time Machine.”

"If they're complaining about something the other person did before they dated, they need to have a serious talk about their relationship too," Alice murmurs, watching the scene.

"I think the fact that they apparently have a time machine might be more worthy of note?" Victor says, alternating between staring at them and staring at Alice.

"It is, but I don't know how to ask two total strangers if I can borrow it to prevent a terrible family tragedy."

[doctorbrown]

For as eager as he is to begin his explanation, seeing no other way to adequately explain not only his presence here but the presence of a heavily modified twentieth century vehicle whose sole and primary function was no longer—clearly—what it was designed for, Emmett is careful enough to leave the details, the scientific formulas, the calculations out.

Even a basic overview of the equipment he'd had to modify to achieve temporal displacement was carefully checked over in his head, lest he reveal something he hadn't meant to.

It's refreshing, speaking about such topics with others clearly well versed in the sciences—and leaps and bounds ahead of the science even in 2015, which had already made remarkable progress—but remarkably advanced or not, he is uncomfortable sharing too many details of his greatest invention, for fear of very tangible repercussions.

He hadn't expected this of his unwitting company, much less the fact that the man speaking to him was clearly not human. Incredible. So this is what the future has in store for us.

❝My name?❞ Emmett asks, momentarily surprised by such a question before his eyes widen. ❝Oh, yes!❞ This far in the future, it shouldn't matter that he gives his real name; at this point in time, he will have been dead for centuries and easily searchable with a photo, no doubt.

❝Twentieth century is correct. Doctor Emmett Brown; a pleasure. So what is it exactly that you study here?❞

@prcspcr, x.

[doctorbrown]

It is not the individual in question's particular appearance that gives him cause for alarm, but rather the tell-tale sign of his apparatus in danger of an imminent overload.

Every fibre of Emmett's being urges him to run towards, not away, and try to mitigate the potential damage of a disaster that unfolds in real-time before his eyes. It takes only a glance at the man's large, furry blue hand to understand that he, too, is a scientist, an inventor, and Fate has possibly intervened to bring them together now, in anticipation of the following moments.

Temporal energy, if improperly contained and regulated, could result in a powerful surge that, at best, would be a small explosion. At worst, it could sever the bonds of space-time and set it all unravelling. Before he had managed to stabilise the Temporal Field Capacitor, he learned the hard way how volatile such energy could be.

As the energy builds, the light becomes too intense for him to continue staring; he throws up an arm to shield his eyes from the worst of it, but the brilliant blue light is still visible in the air around him, reminding him of the DeLorean tearing across the pavement in the seconds before temporal displacement.

Once the blinding light dims, he slowly lowers his arm to survey the area.

Emmett's eyes widen and he's about to shout, ❝Don't move!❞ at the man, only for him to do exactly that before his lips can take shape around the words.

❝Great Scott...❞ he breathes as three instances of the man peel away from each other before his very eyes, one still impressive in size yet very much human, two matching his current appearance with far less drastic changes to his overall form.

Had he even a sliver of doubt in his mind as to the device's capabilities, it would have broken apart at the atomic level by the hard proof in front of his eyes.

Still, despite everything, Emmett is calmer than anybody should be after witnessing a man split in three. His fellow scientist's advice is considered and then thoroughly ignored as he hurries over to the version of the man he'd seen standing there since the beginning of the experiment, the one with the blackened hand.

❝Are you alright? My name is Doctor Emmett Brown and temporally speaking, complicated is an understatement. You've just wrenched yourself out of two different points in time simultaneously.❞ Emmett fixes him with a hard, scrutinising stare, carefully watching for any changes in his current state.

❝And to answer your previous question, yes.❞ Though yes to which of those two options, he never specifies. ❝The residual chronitons in the air should be dormant unless something else excites them, which is exactly what I believe caused your current predicament. Your device—what exactly was your intended goal?❞

‘ trouble ’ (worrisome starter - hello! just diving right in apparently haha but it's fine, this old man is used to it)

"Ah - excuse me, sir? You may actually want to stand back, I'm having a little technical difficulty with - "

Hank let out a yowl as electricity arced off the gauntlet controls on his arm, his other paw coming down to try and input a series of rapid fire commands into the touchpad - "GAAH!" - only for his blue fingers to retreat when they only seemed to make it worse, his palm scorched black.

Oh dear.

"Oh, this is profoundly, profoundly not good. You may well want to take several steps back, actually, or, possibly run, because this is - GRAAH!"

His fingers froze in a pained, spasming claw as the arcs intensified and climbed up the exposed blue skin of his arm, his impressive teeth set in a grimace as he hurriedly thumbed the emergency release and threw the gauntlet away from him. Right as it hit its arc, it suddenly stopped in mid-air, suspended like the world's most high concept anvil, a bright blue glow starting to leak out of the forming cracks in the machined metal.

". . . Oh, this is very intensely not good. I suppose it's too much to hope that you've been exposed to chroniton radiation, or travelled through time? Because if you haven't, then this is going to - "

A silent, awe-inspiring, and absolutely terrific blue explosion burst from the gauntlet, very much like a second sun going off, and Hank threw up his hands to protect his eyes from the light as they were saturated in chronitons. Only when it had abated did he dare bring his hands away and pat himself down, as if to check that he was all in one piece. He was? He was. All right, excellent, superlative. Now just to check on his compatriot.

And the very instant he stepped towards him, Hank suddenly triplicated.

"Oh my - "

"- stars and - "

" - garters. Oh, hell. Sir - what's your name? Please. Do. Not. Move. This is already very complicated, temporally speaking, and we do not want to make this worse."

[ash5monster01]

hiiii !! I just wanted to say your writing is just brilliant, and I love your DPS works 😊 I was wondering if you could maybe do a Neil x fem!reader, with smut ? Only if u want to ofc and thank u!!! i hope u never stop posting xx

The Hot Doc

Pairing: older!Neil Perry x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, no use of protection, mentions of suicide, language, dirty talk, random hookup, setting is a hospital, reader is a doctor

Summary: Being a traveling Doctor meant meeting many new surgeons but on your latest visit, one happens to catch your eye.

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

You’re quite sure you’re losing your mind. You had done this a hundred times, travel from hospital to hospital describing a new technique you had created. A safer way to perform an extremely invasive surgery. Every presentation was the same with the same looking Doctors listening quietly. That is until today when a certain doe eyed Doctor wears a mischievous look instead of curiosity. It makes you stumble over your words more than once, a smug smile on his face like he knows he’s the reason.

“If you have any questions or are interested in learning more I’ll be around the hospital all day” you inform the crowd and in true hospital staff passion, no one applauds or flashes a smile as they stand and return to work. All except for one you’re trying hard to ignore as you pack up your research.

“Quite the presentation you have there” the sultry voice startles you, eyes bewildered as you look to see he still wears the same smug smile he had on before.

“Thank you” you grant him, head nodding even if what he had said wasn’t entirely a compliment.

“I’m Dr. Perry, head of cardio here” he gestures around the room but you know he means the hospital. Of course he was a heart surgeon.

“If that’s so, why did you sit through my 50 minute presentation about brain surgery?” you question, arms crossing as you watch him stand from his seat and start for the front of the room.

“I had read an article about you a few months ago. The female that changed the way we operate. Your researching was incredible and the picture not so bad too” he grins at you, a teasing smile as he brings up the very article you had cut and framed in your office back home. To think it had flattered him before you had even stepped foot here.

“That’s very kind of you Dr. Perry. I’m glad you found an interest as well, even if it’s not your speciality” you tell him and he nods once, eyes still washing over you like he’s trying to memorize every detail now that you’re here in person.

“No need to thank me, no reason to when I’ve taken more interest in you than the contents of the article itself” his honesty is admirable and you’re unable to fight the heavy blush that creeps across your cheeks. It’s then you realize the look he had been giving you the entire time was one of lust.

“I’m flattered Dr. Perry, truly” you tell him, suddenly unable to look into his eyes and he smiles as he leans against the table that holds your research. A large hand reaching out and lifting your chin to face him.

“Please, call me Neil” he requests and you gulp at the sound of his name. Something so simple for a handsome man like this. The look in his eyes showing he had lived quite the life up until this very moment. It’s the very look that has heat pooling in your stomach and knees pressing together.

“Okay Neil” you nod, smiling softly at him and Neil has to look away a moment, trying to calm his heart. He had never taken interest in a woman like you before. When he realized he had to accept this life curated for him the last thing he thought he would do is fall for someone who clearly enjoyed it. Who had made this life path for themselves. Falling for a girl who was also a Doctor felt like he was officially leaving behind the life he once wanted for himself.

“I’m not trying to be too forward but can I take you to dinner?” he suddenly asks and you chuckle, finding it took barely anything from him at all the develop a need for him as well. Since when were you easily so wrecked for a man.

“I’d love too, I really really would, but my flight leaves at seven. You only have me for at least another five hours” something flashes behind his eyes at your words, the suggestion your comment had portrayed despite not meaning too.

“Then I’m gonna be a little more forward. I’d really like to kiss you, preferably before my five hours are up” he says and you smile, adoring how a handsome and smart doctor like himself had become infatuated with you just from your talent and a half terrible picture of you. A picture that made you cringe out of all they could’ve used and he had instead fallen for you hundreds of miles away.

“How long do I have you Doctor?” you ask, knowing more than likely he had a few surgeries scheduled on the board. As much as it would turn you on to see him perform one you also figured what the hell did you have to lose. In five hours you’d be in another state, this hospital just another on the list. It really had been a long time and as long as he was free you were hoping to take advantage of it.

“Two hours until my next surgery, I’m technically supposed to be getting some rest in an on call room” he answers, eyeing the time on his watch and wishing he could freeze it so he could spend all of it with you.

“Care if I join you?” the suggestion makes his eyebrows jump in surprise, not expecting his blatant flirting and forwardness to actually get him what he had wanted. He’d never doubt Charlie and his tactics ever again.

“How much rest would I be getting?” he asks and it’s your turn to be too forward, a devious smile crossing your face as you grasp the side of his white coat.

“None” you tell him and he’s standing straight up in a second, collecting your things and hand falling into your own as he leads you out of the auditorium. He’d be a fool to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. So you follow along, heart thrumming from how confidently he leads you to somewhere more private.

Once in the on call room Neil scans the hallway, making sure no one saw before shutting to door and clicking the lock. It’s small, only two bunk beds and a window with a black out curtain, but for spontaneity it would work. When Neil sets down your stuff you can’t help but feel your nerves spark as his eyes drink you in. Finally alone and in private and you’d have to follow through on exactly what you had just suggested. Which meant standing your ground as he stepped closer and closer.

“You sure you want to do this?-” but your lips meeting his own and arms wrapping around his neck answers the question. Large hands land on your back, holding you close as he relishes in the feeling of your lips on his. You smell delightful and when your tongue darts past his lips, deems you taste even better. It’s better than he had imagined it when he first read your article, and even more than when he imagined it again when he heard you’d be coming here.

“Just so you know, this is out of character for me” you inform him as his lips begin to trail down your neck, your hands making quick work of shoving the white coat off his form and starting for the buttons on his shirt.

“Me too” he tells you, voice muffled in your neck but you can still hear the honesty vibrate into your skin. So you keep at the buttons while his own hands finds the zipper on the back of your dress. He pulls it down slowly, kissing more and more of your shoulder as the fabric is loosened around you. When you finish with the last button you allow the dress to drop, leaving you in the mismatched bra and panties you had put on this morning. If you had known you’d meet a hot doctor you might’ve thought ahead about that.

“Jesus even better than I imagined” he says, shrugging his own shirt off his shoulder and tie in the process. His broad and bare chest is on display, he isn’t covered in muscles but toned in a way that matters and that’s when your eyes catch the scare along his left pec. Slowly you reach out, fingers brushing over it softly.

“What’s this?” you curiously ask, eyebrows furrowed and real worry written across your face. Neil’s hand grasps your wrist, pressing your palm flat over where his heart beats.

“The only time I failed a heart” and realization dawns on you, a small gasp falling from your lips. Slowly he drags your hand up his chest, to his shoulder, then to the side of his head. “Had it been here I never would’ve become a heart surgeon”

“Oh God Neil, I’m so sorry” you tell him but he just smiles, long moved on from the mistakes of his past. If he had been successful in taking his own life all those years ago he never would’ve met you. Ironically enough had he gone for the head it would’ve been your surgery that could’ve saved him.

“It’s okay, I had just grazed my heart. A surgeon saved me and when my Dad was still adamant I go to school I knew exactly what to do” his smile isn’t genuine and you know a boy who dreamed of something else is still trapped in there. Yet he also doesn’t need to revisit the same conversation he probably had a hundred times before. Instead he needed a distraction and that’s why you kiss him.

Neil kisses back feverishly, loving that he hadn’t scared you off with his honestly. Instead you hold his head in your hands and kiss him in a way to say it’s okay life didn’t turn out for him. That he was still here with you and that had to be just as good. So he will take this moment and lock it in his heart forever. Smiling against your lips when your hands unbuckle his belt just as his own find the clasp of your bra. It’s a flurry of discarded clothing until your bare form is pressed against his own and he’s laying you on the twin bed.

“You’re so beautiful” he tells you, lips traveling down your chest and to your breasts. You whine when his lips latch around your nipple, his free hand groping your other breast and sliding down until it meets the heat between your legs. You feel him hum against you when he discovers how wet you already are.

“Mhm Neil” you whimper, you orgasm already building as his mouth switches between your breasts, fingers toying with your bundle of nerves. When his lips meet your own again he shoves a finger inside of you. You moan into his mouth and suddenly he’s harder than before, more turned on than he’s ever been in his life.

“What do you want baby?” he asks as he shoves another finger in, stretching you out and deliciously gliding against your walls. You flutter around him and he smiles again as he pumps his fingers in and out, desperate to be inside of you.

You don’t answer him and instead grip the base of his cock. It’s his turn to whine, not expecting the touch as you squeeze him lightly. He tries hard not to grind into your hand as you glide further and further up till you meet his tip. Angry and red and leaking with pre-cum. You needed him inside of you. Which is why you widen your legs, guiding him to where he brushes against your folds. He winces, trying his best to not finish before he even gets to feel what it’s like inside of you.

“Fuck me Neil” you tell him and he doesn’t waste a second, hands slipping out of your pussy, replacing it with the tip of his cock that instantly glistens from how wet you are. He drags himself through your folds, once, twice, and then the third pushes into you slowly.

You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin as he sinks further and further inside. It seems it’ll never end then suddenly he’s flush against you, the tip of his cock nudging that perfect spot. You moan out as he waits for you to adjust. Pretty soon you’re nodding, indicating he needs to move. He pulls out halfway before plunging in again. The sensation has you seeing stars and once Neil finds his rhythm you’re done for. You cling against him as he rams into you over and over again. It seems as if your eyes have rolled to the back of your head. His lips are everywhere and the sensation is better than any you had experienced before.

It’s when his hand finds your clit, rubbing quickly, do you feel your orgasm wash over you with no warning. You clamp down on him tightly and his hips stutter, realizing what he’s just done. He fucks you through it, trying hard to last until you squeeze him just right again and he’s finishing as well. You smile wide as he continues to fuck you until he can’t anymore. Falling against you gently and not quite ready to pull out yet.

“Well that was new” you say after a moment, a soft smile covering your lips and Neil smiles back, kissing you gently.

“I hope I wasn’t too forward?” he asks and you snort out a laugh, unwillingly clenching around him again that makes him tense up. He just kisses you again anyway.

“I’d say you did everything right” you tell him and he smiles, noticing this is the happiest he had been in a very very long time.

“I hope I made it memorable for you?” he grins again, that same smug look back on his face and you push some of his brunette hair away so you can see him better. Close enough to finally see the happy and lively boy that lives within him.

“What did you want to be instead of a Doctor?” you ask and he smiles, hand falling on top of your own. The one that cradles his face like you don’t ever want to let him go.

“An actor, I was good too” he tells you and you smile, kissing him gently and keeping your forehead pressed against his own.

“I know I leave tonight but maybe I can call you from my next destination, get to know you better?” you suggest and he smiles so wide he’s certain his own heart is too. Thrumming against your skin and feeling close to someone for the first time in a long time.

“I’d like that a lot”

[calder]

hello! i stumbled across your blog very recently and am curious as to what the tag v13 means- sorry if you’ve answered this before, i’m on mobile!

fallout is based on wasteland. wasteland is based on a canticle for liebowitz. a canticle for liebowitz is about catholics bickering about fiction in the dust of america for hundreds and hundreds of years. it is about religion and the concept of a dark age

VAULT 13: A GURPS Post-Nuclear Adventure was the ip's name in the conceptual phase. the very first VAULT 13 worldbuilding pitch doc--a timeline--spoke of a Dark God, a term deployed throughout Fallout but only contextualized in the fallout bible, which does not actually use the term. Laura has a special voiced line just for Tell Me About: Dark,God: "The what?"

Project V-13 was interplay's original Fallout Online, which was cancelled by the publisher bethesda like fifteen years ago now.

pylon v-13 is a location at the end of Fallout 76's map where a character from Project V-13 built a time portal and disappeared. it is the most cursed location in the game

by accepting its premise, we arrive at v13 lore, the rejection of canon in light of canonical time travel and multiverse, which has always been a thing, and is also literally a joke. it's the realization that fallout is defined by creativity, interpretation, expression, and argument. it is the understanding that non-canon lore and controversial lore are basic and vital pieces of the history of the setting. and it's the begrudging admission that fallout is a cultural legend, irreplaceable and beyond anyone's control. fallout makes sense to everyone and demands our imagination. it always will

enabled by all the most hated and rejected lore, my characters are time-travelling supervillains who know the things i know, and scour the wastelands endlessly to expand their knowledge. this diegetic headspace and cosmology is a lens i use to explore the concepts of conspiracy theory, paranormal thought, religion, and occultism, all of which i am deeply critical of. i have learned a lot about these matters because i was able to fully engage with them in the context of fallout.

also the talking deathclaws lived in vault 13 and the courier carries the vault 13 canteen. there's also some esoteric shit about 13 high priests, 13 ghouls, and 13 landmarks. it's a pretty specific throughline. it's there if you're mad enough to look for it. and we'll never really know what it means if anything

thats what it means. to me

another thing i always say is. any setting where humans don't see ghosts is a strange fantasy. humans have always seen ghosts. don't mean ghosts are real. just means folks see ghosts. and at some point you gotta talk about it

hope this isnt complete nonsense

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

The All-Star Game

Batter Up Chapter 5

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: This is not how Joel wanted to spend his All-Star Game, at least you make the best of it for him. Warnings: smut, fluff, family dynamics, nurse/patient roleplay in the shower, oral (m receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v sex (reader has a previously discussed IUD... be safe), a doctor mistakes reader for Joel's wife. Words: 4,900

A/N: Been fighting writer's block, twelve hour work days, and total brain fry. Thank you for being so patient with my lack of updating folks. Not gonna lie, I read through my first piece Golden Walkway earlier and was like "how TF is my first ever ff/smut piece that good?!" while I'm absolutely banging my head against the keyboard trying to write out four sentences tonight. The biggest shout out to @frannyzooey for filling my Google Doc with notes and simplifying my gobbledegook. I absolutely do not feel worthy of your kindness. *insert Wayne's World not worthy GIF*

Masterlist Series Masterlist Playlist

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Day 1 Travel Day For All-Stars

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

“God damnit,” Joel growls. “Why do I always forget that that’s your damn alarm?”

“Mmph, it works. Wakes me up.” You sit up and stretch before reaching to pick up your phone.

The same phone you stared at while willing yourself to sleep, attempting to ignore the circling "what ifs" of the dreaded conversation you knew you had to have with your parents, only able to do so after focusing on the soothing sound of Joel's breathing.

You get up, slip on his shirt and crack open the curtains letting the morning sun peek in. 

“Guess I should look at my phone, hm?” Joel slowly sits up and settles his back on the pillows while you readjust, his big brown eyes disappearing behind the tired crinkles that line the sides as he lets out a rumbly yawn.

“Might be a good idea, I’m sure Sarah wants to talk with you.” Running a hand through his sleep tousled hair, you give him a kiss.

“Called her on the way home yesterday, let her know not to worry and that I’d be fine without her.” He sighs. “I think she knows I have somebody.”

“Hm. I didn’t want to get into it this soon, but I’m going to have to talk to my mom at least. She knows I’m here in Philly and I didn’t get on my flight.”

“Well, shit,” he grimaces. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be good. I texted her saying I’m fine and I’d talk to her tomorrow. Just nervous, but at this point, there’s no going back…they were already going to find out today. So instead of doing it in person, I’m just going to have to do it over the phone.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” His hand grabs yours and squeezes it.

“We will, I just want to have a nice morning with you, I'll deal with them after lunch.”

“But first, coffee?”

“But first, coffee.”

——

“Well, here goes,” you dial your mom’s number and hit the green phone circle. She picks up after two rings. Crap.

“Hey mom,” you nervously swallow, trying to sound chipper. Joel’s hand soothingly pets your back, grounding you. 

“Hi sweetie, what’s happening? Your dad and I are very confused.”

“Yeah, um about that, is dad with you?”

“He is… is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is good. Um, could you put me on speaker?” You haven’t had to feel this level of nervousness with your parents in almost twenty years. 

“Hi Duck, what’s going on?” Your dad calls you by your nickname, so he’s not mad… yet. “Was looking forward to seeing you, I don’t know why you’re not here. Mom and I didn’t hear from you, so she checked your location last night and you’re in Philadelphia? Not New York, not the airport, not Texas, but Philadelphia, why is that? We were worried, Duck.”

“I know, I’m sorry about that. So, things got… complicated. I was packing for the airport and was watching the Liberties game when, um, Joel got hurt.” You exhale, trying to calm yourself by focusing on the feel of Joel’s hand on your skin. “I, uh, drove down to help take care of him because, um, he and I have been, together since, well, November.” You breathe out the latter word, hoping your quiet breath will hide the shame in keeping Joel a secret for that long, for not respecting your parents and your own relationship. You feel so small, so fragile, so young, confessing to your mom and dad like you’re in trouble. 

“November?” The only word your mom responds with. Your dad stays quiet, and you’re reminded of why you wanted to do this over the phone. So you wouldn’t see their expressions. Although, maybe if they were here, they would be able to see the way Joel looks at you, how happy you are, how perfect he is for you.  

“Yes, um, remember when I flew in for your birthday? We ran into each other, and I don’t know, it just worked out. I know this is a lot.” 

Joel’s hand lands on your shoulder, tugging you back to lay against him, his arm wrapping around your chest as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.  You love him so much, you let a tear slip out as you wait for any sort of validation. 

“So, you and Joel Miller have been together for, what, nine months? And we’re only finding out about it now?” You try to gauge your dad’s voice, sensing disappointment, praying it’s not anger. “Is it because you got caught at his place? When were you going to tell us?” 

Okay, there’s anger. 

“Tonight actually, um, Joel and I were going to tell you tonight at dinner. I’m really sorry and I know this is complicated because there’s a bit of history between him and you, but daddy, I love him.”

“Bit of history?” he replies, incredulous. “He was my star player for twenty years, he was rude to the media, coaches, and reporters and I always had to pick up that mess. He was great on the field and in the clubhouse, but he was a pain in my ass most of the time, and now you’re telling me you’re in love with him… and have been for almost a year?”

You bite your lip as you will the tears away from your eyes. You’re so thankful for Joel’s touch right now. He’s respecting you, but you can tell by his breathing growing louder and quicker that hearing your dad’s raised voice is upsetting him. Maybe it’s better to be not in person, that way Joel doesn’t run the risk of throwing your dad through a wall. 

“Yes,” you croak out. You feel like a child answering him. Eyes downcast, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“And all of a sudden, right after he’s no longer on my team, he’s your boyfriend?”

“I’m sorry dad, it’s not something we planned on, it just… happened and I know you’re mad and I’m sorry that it took this long for you to find out and I’m sor—“

“Sweetie,” your mom’s voice breaks through your anxious words, “are you happy?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, Joel’s arm squeezes you tighter, “incredibly.”

“Well, that’s all we want for you. If it’s with Joel, then we’re good, right?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief at her words, her acceptance, her demand of your dad to recenter himself and his ire. You turn to look at Joel and see tears sitting in the waterline of his eyes that are focused on you. He gives you a small smile. 

How could you not love this man? How could anybody doubt the power of what you two share?

“That is what we want for you, but I am concerned. People will have questions. Joel is a part of this team’s history and now my daughter is dating him.”

“I understand that.”

“I know you do, Duck. You can make your own decisions, you haven’t lived under our rules for a very long time. I trust you. As long as you are happy and you understand that there will be roadblocks up ahead with the public eye, then I can be on board. People talk, the internet talks and you’re signing yourself up for a lot of people talking about you. I know you realize that, but does Miller?”

“I do, sir,” Joel says, the first words spoken from him, with the “sir” sternly emphasized. “Look, I don’t care what anybody has to say, people’s opinions never mattered to me. I know you’re well aware of that. I love your daughter. She has been with me every step of the way since I learned I was no longer a Capital. I apologize that this is all at once ’n that this is how you’re finding out, but I do not apologize for the way I feel about your daughter. I love her.”

You watch Joel’s lips as he speaks his confession to your parents, wondering how you could be so lucky to have found him and to have his heart the way that you do.  

“Listen, I know you two are smart, and Miller, you know at the end of the day I respect the hell out of you. If my daughter is happy, that’s all I can hope for as her father. As much as I worry about her, I know she can make her own decisions.” 

“As a father to a college student now, I understand that sir. You have my word that I will stop at nothing to keep your daughter happy.” 

“We know that Joel,” your mom’s soft voice soothes the conversation. “I just wish we would have known about this sooner. I’m a bit upset that it took you long enough to let us know. We just want you to be aware of what issues might arise for you two.”

“Whatever happens, it’s just white noise to us. It’s my choice—it’s our choice,” you say. “We’ve talked about everything before, we are fully aware.” 

“I can’t tell you what to do Duck, Mom can’t tell you what to do. Miller’s a good man, underneath it all, I know that. If you are happy with him, then we are happy for you.”

“This is the happiest I’ve been.”

“We’re glad sweetheart, so glad,” your mom chokes out. At least they’re happy tears. “We’ll be here for you, always. I guess we won’t see you this week.”

“No, Joel needs me, I don’t want to leave him.” 

“Alright then, feel better Miller, we love you Duck,” your dad’s voice softens. “Take care and keep us updated, okay?”

“Thank you sir,” Joel respectfully responds.

“I will. Love you guys, bye.” You end the call and let out a big sigh of relief. 

One down, two more to go. 

“I’m proud of you baby,” Joel breathes out against your hair.

“Heh, thanks. I think?”

“I know you were nervous.”

“Oh, yeah. Still kinda dumb how I’m intimidated by them but… I think it all worked out in the end.”

“It did baby. Why does your dad call you Duck?”

“It’s short for duck snort.”

“...Like the baseball term?”

“Yep, I used to be a crazy toddler and thought my parents chasing me was funny. One day my dad called me a duck snort because I’d always get away and ‘win’, and it kinda stuck.”

He smiles, stroking your cheek. “That’s so fucking cute. ”

“Speaking of daughters, when are you going to tell Sarah?” 

“Later. I’m all phoned out for the time being, want to rest my back and take a nap. That one was a little tense.”

“A nap sounds amazing,” you stretch and adjust to put your head on Joel’s chest, your favorite pillow.

——

“Joel,” you blink your eyes open, “the sun’s going down. I think we overslept.”

“Mm, I’m up. Been up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You’ve had a long couple of days, wanted to let you sleep.”

“You’re due for your pills,” you yawn, getting up.

“I am.”

He winces as you hand him his medicine and glass of water. 

“You alright?” 

“Been better, just really hurts right now. Plus, I should call Sarah before it gets too late. I just texted Tommy and told him.”

“Oh?” You turn on Joel’s heating pad and hand him the remote.

“Yeah, he texted me and asked me how I was getting along and if my nurse was hot. Told him about everything. He was happy for me and congratulated me on my hot nurse.”

“He’s ridiculous,” you shake your head. “I’m going to go make dinner, I’ll leave you to call Sarah.” You kiss the top of his forehead.

“Thanks baby.” 

——

You quietly step into Joel’s room holding a tray with his plate full of steak, rice and broccoli, Joel’s go to in season meal.

“Hey sweets, my dinner is here. I gotta go.”

“Can I—can I say hi to her?”

You smile at Sarah’s sweet voice as Joel looks past his phone to you. You nod and walk over placing the tray on Joel’s lap.

“Sure, here she is.”

Well, this is new. You’ve never been with anybody who has a child, let alone a college aged kid. You know Sarah, you love her, you used to chase her around the club box years ago. 

You grab the phone, she’s gotten so beautiful. Same brown eyes as her dad, deep dimples as she smiles, long curly hair. She’s a young woman now, just as gorgeous as her dad. 

“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again.”

“Oh my god! Hi! It is! Wish it wasn’t through the phone but I, just, I wanted to say that, I-I am very happy that Dad finally found somebody and it’s you!”

“Well, I am too.”

“He told me you’re doing a better job than I ever would at taking care of him, so I don’t need to tell you to take good care of him.”

“I try,” you chuckle. 

“Thanks for saying hi to me, I’ll let you go, I know you have dinner!”

“Of course Sarah, any time. I’ll hand you back to your dad now.”

You keep your smile as you hand the phone back to Joel. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him this happy before, eyes alight with a large grin on his face. You never noticed how his dimple matches Sarah’s. 

Your shoulders feel lighter now that the most important people know, and accept, your love. 

The secret’s out. 

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Day 2 Home Run Derby

Greeting Doctor Arroyo with a smile, you leave him in the living room to wait. 

"Joel," you peek your head into the bedroom. "He's here."

"Send him in," he replies, sitting up higher.

Showing the doctor the way, he thanks you. 

"Thanks, Mrs. Miller."

You let out a little laugh. "Not the wife, just the girlfriend."

Giving you a small smile, he leaves you in the hallway with thoughts of being Mrs. Miller swirling in your head.

After the doctor leaves, you sit on the edge of the bed.

“So, what’d he say?” 

“Still stuck like this for the next few days. Wants me to do some stretches and move around more, going to check on me in two more days again. Said I’m recovering well, told him it’s because I have a good nurse.” 

“You do have a good nurse… that’s better news than I was expecting at least.”

“Yep, and he took the bandage off from my shot so I can finally take a shower.” 

“Oh?”

“Oh is right,” his eyes darken, “but you’re gonna have to wash me, nurse.”

“I can do that, not only am I your nurse but I’m also your wife according to Dr. Arroyo.”

“Oh?”

“Oh is right,” you wink. “I told him I’m your girlfriend.”

“Should’ve told him you’re not my wife… yet.”

“I’m happy with girlfriend right now Mr. Miller.”

“My sweet independent girl.” 

“Eh, your sweet independent nurse now. Come on, let’s get you washed Mr. Miller.”

“Yes ma’am.”

——

Joel hobbles into the bathroom as you adjust the temperature of the shower. 

“It’s hot, too hot, just like you like it Mr. Miller.”

“God, I love it when you call me that. Now nurse,” he smirks, “come help me with my clothes.”

“Right away Mr. Miller,” you reply, sauntering over to him.

“What a pretty nurse you are, have a feeling you’re going to take REAL good care of me,” he raises his arms over his head as you lift his shirt up.

“I’ll sure try to take good care of you Mr. Miller. Did you want me to remove your shorts?”

“Yes nurse.”

You lean forward, grabbing the waistband of his pants to lower them down, running your gaze appreciatively over his half-hard cock.

You look up and angle your eyebrow at him. “I can see you’re quite excited for your shower Mr. Miller.”

“Mm.” 

“Go ahead and get in, it’s all ready for you.” 

“But you’re not. Take your clothes off.”

“Now, Mr. Miller, I can’t get naked for you, but I can take this off.” You slip the straps of your dress down your arms and shimmy out of it, leaving only your white cotton bra and underwear on. “You know, gotta stay decent while taking care of my patient.”

He hums in appreciation, taking in the sight. Turning, he steps into the shower with a groan of contentment.

“Feel good?” You ask grabbing a wash cloth. 

“Very.”

He leans forward, placing his arms on the wall and stretches his back as the water hits his skin. Water trickles down the deep plains of his spine, the strong muscles of his back gleaming under the sheen of water. You follow the river that falls from his neck, down his back bone, past the two lower back dimples you love, past the slight curve of his behind and down his hairy legs. He is all man… your man. It’s a shame all the water that lands across his body is wasted on the drain. 

“Is the temperature good?”

“S’perfect,” he grunts.

“Want me to scrub you sir?”

“Heh,” he turns his head to look at you, “with a nurse that looks like you? ‘Course I do.”

The drops of water sear your skin as you step into the water.

“Jesus Joel, it’s hot in here.”

“Mm,” he reaches over and turns the water cooler before turning around, his eyes darkening as he notices the fabric of your bra cups has turned see-through. “Better?” His eyes stay on your chest.

“Better. Now, let’s get you washed, sir.”

“I’m all yours.” 

You grab Joel’s bar of soap, lathering your hands up with the eucalyptus scented bar. Your hands run across his chest leaving lines of suds along his skin, and he lets out a small groan as you rub soapy circles over his stomach. 

He reaches a hand up and pinches your nipple underneath the sheer wet fabric. 

“Feel good sir?”

“Very. Such a good nurse.”

You step closer to him, his hard cock jutting against your stomach as you wash his arms. Your fingers press tight along his biceps and his shoulders, releasing the tension.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes out, “you’re driving me crazy like this.” 

“Well, get ready, I need to wash your legs and…” you wrap your hand around his erection, “this… sir.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groans and shakes his head. “Go ahead nurse.”

You reach around him and grab the soap before kneeling on the tile floor. 

Your soapy hands glide along Joel’s legs, his calf muscles firm under your touch, his thighs soft as you move closer to Joel’s hard cock dripping water and precum. You move your hands along the back of his thighs, cradling the bottom of his ass cheeks before pushing him forward and sealing your mouth over his cock. 

“CHRIST!” Joel’s shout echoes across the bathroom, his hands splaying against the glass.  

Pulling back, you look up.

“You alright? Is this too much?”

“No, no sweetheart,” his eyes soften as he reaches down and holds your cheek, “it felt really good. Go on baby,” Joel leans against the shower wall, “prove to me I’m your favorite patient.”

A long groan escapes Joel’s mouth as you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth. You take him deeper in, sucking the water off of his length as he grabs a handful of your wet hair, your mouth slurping along his length. You clench your thighs together as you feel your cunt throb with arousal.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he chants. 

Water dripping off of Joel’s skin pelts your face as he fills your mouth, your nose brushing against the coarse hair of him there, his cock repeatedly brushing the back of your throat causing a string of saliva to drool out of your mouth.

“Touch yourself, touch your pussy while you suck me baby.”

Your hand reaches underneath your soaked cotton panties, your fingers ghosting across your swollen clit. You moan as you press down and swirl around the bundle of nerves.

His hips jut forward when you hollow your cheeks around him sucking as you bob your head along his length, your free hand cradling his balls and massaging the soft skin of them, bringing him to the brink of his orgasm.

“So good baby, fucking hell,” his grip on your hair tightens, “going to give you my cum soon if you keep that up.” 

Your eyes look up to him, he tilts his head down and gives you a blissed out half smile, water cascades down his face and falls onto your skin. The way he looks at you, the line on his forearm straining as he holds your hair, his warm cock stretching your mouth open, the feel of water dripping down your throat mixed with the taste of Joel. The sensation is too much, you whimper around Joel’s cock as you orgasm. Your fingers drown with your arousal, your mouth goes slack around him as warmth spreads through your limbs. Your hand collects the hot slick that leaks out of you, spreading it all over Joel’s shaft, pumping him with your fist as you suck the tip of him. 

“Close,” he pants, “lemme cum in that mouth, wanna see your mouth filled with me.” 

You nod and moan as you tighten your grip and suck harder.

He chants your name as he empties his release into your open mouth, the last spurt of him landing on your outstretched tongue.

He untangles his hand from your hair, running it down your face to grab your chin and angle it up.

“Swallow it baby.” 

His blown out brown eyes watch in worshiping awe as you seal your mouth shut and gulp down the salty taste of him before licking your lips. 

“All good Mr. Miller?”

“Quite… best nurse I ever had.” 

—-

“He reminds me of you,” you muse, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl as you and Joel watch the Austin Capitals’ rookie phenom James Neal hit ball after ball over the fence of Capitals Stadium. 

“He better. He’s my replacement.” Joel grumbles. 

“How do you feel about not being there?” 

“Tonight isn’t as bad, I always hated the Derby, having to sit on the field and play nice with the cameras. Tomorrow is going to suck.”

“I know it will, I’m sorry this is happening to you. You deserve everything this season. I know everything hasn’t gone the way you’ve wanted but I couldn’t be prouder of how you’ve handled it.”

“Don’t think I’d be able to do it without you baby,” he kisses the top of your head as James Neal hits his twentieth home run over the fence. 

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Day 3 The All-Star Game

And the first pitch of the sixth inning is a strike. Scott steps back into the box, swings… and a miss. Strike two. Bridges winds up, and Scott hits a ground ball to first and—OH! Reynolds misreads it and it gets past him, two runs score. The American League now leads by two in the sixth! 

“I would’ve caught that,” Joel bitterly says. 

“I know you would’ve All-Star,” you console, leaning against him and wrapping an arm around him. 

“Mmf, you can’t lay on me like that.” 

“Sorry, does it hurt?”

“No, not even close. Just… feels real good having you all naked and pressed up against me like that.”

“Sorry.”

Joel plants his hand against your back, keeping you from moving away. 

“Stay, I like it. If I was on that field right now I couldn’t feel you like this.”

“Oh yeah?” Your hand runs a trail down his shorts and grips the heft of him. “Definitely wouldn’t be able to feel this.”

“Definitely not,” he groans. 

“Definitely couldn’t pull your shorts down and touch you if you were playing right now.”

“No,” he grunts, lifting his hips up allowing you to remove his shorts. 

You wrap your hand around his half hard cock. “And surely, I couldn’t jerk you off if you were on that field.” 

“Fuck, no,” he grits, hardening under your touch.

“Did you want to watch the game in peace or do you want me to take care of you?” 

“Take care baby,” he kisses you, “fuck this game.”

“Yeah, fuck this game.”

Your body overheats as you slide down Joel, straddling his thick thighs, taking his cock in hand, rubbing it along your dripping cunt and slowly settling yourself on his length.

Joel’s lips part, his big brown eyes staring at you as a long moan leaves your mouth savoring the feel of his cock stretching you. 

“You feel so good,” his head thuds against the pillow. “I haven’t felt your pussy like this in forever. Fucking missed it.” 

Your hips rock back and forth still adjusting to the size of him as he grabs your tits and massages the weight of them in his calloused hands. 

“This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

You’re too blissed out to answer, too overwhelmed by the size of him. All you can muster is an isolated nod and whine arching your back while he pinches and pulls your nipples into peaks. 

“You gonna fuck me baby? You gonna fuck me like the All-Star I am? Come on baby, prove to me I’m your All-Star.”

You rise and fall on his cock, grinding your hips down each time he stuffs you full. 

“Look so good like this baby,” Joel juts his hips up “you’re the only fucking trophy I need.” 

You lean in as your thighs begin to tremble bringing his hand to your lips. Joel’s blown out pupils focus on your tongue as it traces the circles of his tattoo.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps. 

Your pussy clenches at his praise, Joel’s cock hits the sensitive spot you want to feel him the most. 

“Cum for me, let me feel you strangle my cock, cum for me baby,” Joel’s gravelly voice encourages as he pulls his hand from your mouth, tugging you down against his chest. 

Your cunt flutters around him as your orgasm shatters into you. Your mouth going slack, drool falling out and landing on Joel’s chest as you scream his name and writhe on top of him.

“That’s my good girl, that’s it, fuck, you’re fucking gripping me baby, not going to last long like this.”

You summon as much energy as you can leaning forward to lick the golden skin of his neck as you grind your hips against his, your soaked pussy pumping his cock.

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” he pants. “Gonna cum.” 

Joel lets out a long groan as his hips jerk up into you, warmth blooming through your core as his cock empties into you. You both stay frozen collectively catching your breaths as you come down from your shared bliss. His cock slips from you as you lift up to kiss him, both of your spends dribbling down between your thighs.

“Did I make you feel like the All-Star you are?”

“Mm,” he smiles, pulling away, ”I love being a baseball player sometimes.”

You turn towards the TV. “It’s tied now.” 

“Mm, for the first time ever, I really don’t care.”

You stay cuddled in his bed for the remainder of the game, today is definitely your favorite All-Star Game experience.

Well folks, that’ll do it for this year’s All-Star Game here in beautiful Austin, Texas. The National League wins in a 4-3 victory over the American League. We’ll see you next year. 

“Good game, I really enjoyed the sixth inning.”

“Guess it’s good we get home field advantage in the World Series,” Joel shrugs.

“Always thinking ahead.” “Always. Had a plan for a whole thing after the game but life had other plans. I, uh, grabbed this when I was changing earlier,” Joel opens his bedside table and pulls out a small gray suede box.

Your heart skips a beat at the implication of what it could be. There’s no way.

“It’s okay baby, don’t panic, it’s not that. Now that everybody knows, I want you to be able to wear me wherever you go.” 

He opens the box, a delicate gold necklace with a pendant of his number hangs from it.

“Joel,” you breathe out as tears prick your eyes, “it’s so… beautiful.”

“That first night I had the chain was the night I had you in the back of that club. I tried for so long to stay away from you, and yet you were always there, like some forbidden treasure I could never have… now we’re together and this is the happiest I’ve ever been.” Joel swipes the tears from your cheeks as they fall, “I love you so much sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” you smile as you take the box and remove the necklace. 

“Put it on baby, lemme see it.”

You clasp the necklace behind your neck and lower your arms. Joel pets the gold pendant against your skin. 

“Beautiful,” Joel whispers.

⚾️⚾️⚾️

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