#Advanced Directory

[dragonfly7022003]

New PowerShell Program

So the other day I was at work and was wondering if there was a way to check all the PC's on the network and find out when the last time they were active.

I then began to write something in PowerShell. I also wanted the Computer name and the last user who was logged into the PC. Just to make a list of older PCs on the network, and users we need to clean up in AD.

Using AD, I could get most of the information I needed, and then using SSH to reach out to every PC and update the latest information. How it would work is it would ping the pc to see if it was active, then using SSH to get the information I wanted. I also wanted it to be placed into a spreadsheet to be able to send it to the Sys Admins.

Now, to use this, you will need to run PowerShell as an administrator.

Here is the code

$computers = Get-ADComputer -Filter * -Property Name, LastLogonTimestamp

$results = @()

foreach ($computer in $computers) { $compName = $computer.Name $lastLogon =[DateTime]::FromFileTime($computer.LastLogonTimestamp)

Write-Host "Checking $compName..." -ForegroundColor Cyan

# Set a default value

$lastUser = "Unknown or Offline"

# Try to ping and connect if the machine is online

if (Test-Connection -ComputerName $compName -Count 1 -Quiet) { try {

# Try to grab the last logged-on user

$sysInfo = Get-CimInstance -ClassName Win32_ComputerSystem -ComputerName $compName

$lastUser = $sysInfo.UserName $model = $sysInfo.Model } catch { $lastUser = "Access Denied" } } else { $lastUser = "Offline" }

$results += [PSCustomObject]@{ ComputerName = $compName LastLogonToAD = $lastLogon LastLoggedInUser = $lastUser SystemModel = $model } }

Display

$results | Sort-Object LastLogonToAD -Descending | Format-Table -AutoSize

Optional: export to CSV

$desktop = [Environment]::GetFolderPath("Desktop") $path = Join-Path -Path $desktop -ChildPath "PC_LastLogonAndUser.xlsx"

$results | Export-Excel -Path $path -AutoSize -BoldTopRow -Title "PC Last Logon and User Report" -WorksheetName "Report"

[radchocoart]

sol x serenity <3, based off this meme

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so he's his own warning. Don't read if he's not someone you enjoy reading fics about. Depictions of injury and threat of violence. Enemies to Lovers. Soulmate! AU

This chapter contains sexual themes MDNI

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 5,991

A/N: The chapter is finally here and a lot longer than I originally thought it would be. Let's thank my laptop for still hanging in there! I went waaaaaay out of my comfort zone with this one by writing smut that I didn't end up chickening out and deleting (i'll be honest it got close a few times). We're advancing more with the relationship but this is Doffy we're talking about so there's still more to come. I hope you all enjoy 🤭 🫣 Dividers made by the amazing @physics-of-one-piece

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen(here) | Chapter Eighteen(coming soon)

“Darling?” You slowly turned your head towards the doorway with a small arch in your eyebrow.

“That the one you want to go with?” You asked casually and Doflamingo gave a thoughtful hum before immediately making a negative sound; more to himself than to you. As you’d been getting ready, Doflamingo’s voice would drift in from the other room, sounding out various pet-names to use on you. He’d yet to land on one he liked the sound of to use for the night. “Don't you think you’re putting too much thought into this?” 

“You said it’s only for tonight.” Doflamingo reminded you with a laugh. “Need to make sure it’s something I’ll get the most enjoyment out of calling you.”

“Whatever you say.” You hummed. “I’ll answer to anything you know.”

“My little seagull?” You laughed at that one and Doflamingo grinned at the sound. “Fits your former marine standing don’t you think?”

“Former being the word, Doffy.” You reminded lightly, as you moved to lean against the doorframe, lightly folding your arms across your chest. “Seagulls just give the image of a squawking annoyance. Is that how you see me?”

Doflamingo had been sitting relaxed on the plush sofa in the shared bedroom the entire time, sipping at a drink while he waited for you to finish getting ready. At the sign of movement he looked to the door and his grin spread immediately. His hidden gaze roaming over you appreciatively. Absently he made a mental note to reward the servants and tailors that had a hand in assisting you with this clothing choice. Everything hugged and your body and showed your figure perfectly. Dressed in the finest material to set you apart as a guest of high standing and not a mere underling, it was clear to Doflamingo that when the two of you made your appearance, everyone was going to take notice. “Oh I definitely see you as something far from that.” He chuckled while you smirked. “Dressed like that, ‘seagull’ definitely won’t work though.”

“Yeah…that’s the only reason.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Come on then. What’s your next option?”

Doflamingo regarded you silently, his expression thoughtful. Taking another sip of his drink, he gestured his finger in a slow circling motion to request you twirl for him. Dramatically you sighed and pushed yourself away from the comfortable position you’d had against the doorway. Stepping further into the room you did as he requested. With unhurried movements you turned in a full circle to show off your appearance to Doflamingo in every angle. Finally facing him again you put out your hands in a ‘ta-da’ gesture. “Happy?”

You dropped your hands and moved to the drinks table to pour yourself a drink. Now that you moved into the light Doflamingo noticed how some of the panels of fabric to your outfit was made of a sheerer material to teasingly reveal some of your skin underneath. Finishing his own drink, Doflamingo stood and moved so he was behind you, reaching forward to set his glass on the table. The small action caused him to momentarily press against you and his fingers to skim against your arm when he straightened. As you took a sip you turned to face him. “I was going to suggest ‘angel’ but the more I see how sinful you look I’m not sure that suits either.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” You laughed again with a shake of your head. This was honestly not the reaction you’d anticipated from him.

“I’m being serious.” Doflamingo corrected, looking over you again. “Deadly serious. If they aren’t  careful, there’s going to be a lot of bodies by the end of the night.”

“From what? Just looking at me?” You asked incredulously, gently moving around him to relax until it was time to leave. However you didn’t get far because Doflamingo’s hands caught you effortlessly and spun you around to face him again. One hand gripped your hip while the other pinched your chin, making you look at him as he leant in. 

“You think those degenerates will be content with just looking?” His breath fanned against your skin as you felt his low voice rumble against his chest. You fought to ignore the small shiver flitting up your spine at his words and how his lips were so close but still not closing the final minuscule gap between you both. “Even letting them look at you seems punishable.”

“You can’t blind or kill everyone.” You reminded him softly, unable to hide your smile when his grin stretched as he was no doubt imagining doing just that to the unknown guests-or victims in his mind- you’d soon be crossing paths with. “Besides I’ll be arriving with you. You said so yourself, they won’t try anything. Guess you’ll just have to be brave and just let them look won’t you?”

“I don’t have to let them do anything.” Doflamingo’s grip tightened, drawing you closer. As always you didn’t even flinch; not able to feel any physical discomfort or pain from the strength of his hold. Instead you simply adjusted your stance; after draining your own drink, you set it aside and settled your hands on his chest and stared up at him with careful reproach. 

“Yes, yes, you’re the mighty King Doffy.” You teased, absently smoothing the pale pink fabric of his mostly unbuttoned shirt as you continued. “If you keep this up people are going to notice there’s something more going on than me simply being your date for the night and they’re going to pry into your business if they get too suspicious.” 

When your hands slowly moved up and rested on his shoulders, Doflamingo’s hand slid from your chin to curl behind the back of your neck. The action alone told you he was calming slightly but he still wasn’t entirely convinced. You had to remind yourself that this event was something he didn’t enjoy at the best of times and he’d been showing a lot of restraint in recent weeks. He hadn’t killed the servant because of you and had resisted lashing out at the doctors when you’d gotten ill as much as he clearly wanted to act on those violent impulses and usual habits. While you’d managed to deter him for the most part you knew a setting like this would only bring out his want to let out his frustrations and desire for brutality. If he saw the others attending to be beneath him then his patience was going to be at an all-time low. 

“You’re right. They’ll keep their hands to themselves if they know what’s good for them.” Doflamingo nodded with a more sinister gracing his features as you pouted slightly.

“What if someone is nice and wants to dance with me?” You asked with perfect innocence in your tone that was only betrayed by the unrestrained playfulness gleaming in your eyes. “You’d deny them that little request?” 

“If they were really brave enough to ask you in front of me I suppose I’d respect them enough to let them. Still, I’ll just have to memorise those that push their luck though and deal with them when the time’s right.”

“At least when you do, make sure blood doesn’t get on my clothes.” You requested, asking him to do anything else would have been a waste of words.

The island was buzzing with excitement with a twinge of nervousness. For the citizens, under the rule of their Lord they were no stranger to the darker sources of his power and knew of the less than moral and good company he kept. Yes he was corrupt in his own way and had more wealth than sense but he wasn’t the peak of evil. On nights like these when he’d throw his lavish and ostentatious parties, the commonfolk eagerly awaited from behind their curtains to see the guests arrive and walk through the emptied streets the the manor. At the same time the older and more aware people watched carefully, feeling small amounts of fear when they spotted the guests that had reputations, bounties on their head, and a literal army following behind them. 

Since they were the guests of their Lord, should they decide to level a random house, steal someone’s livelihood, or attack someone of the town nothing would be done to protect them and that was the reality they had to live with, the harshness made even more evident when the potential threat to the community was escorted through the streets by those dressed in Marine uniforms and smirking just as arrogantly and cruelly as the person they were protecting for the night. As more groups passed by the window, the tension grew. Then the people felt a shudder tremble through their homes and bodies. Instinct gnawed at them to close the curtain and look away, to stand protectively in front of the rooms their children slept soundly in but they couldn’t Despite what deep instinct told them to do it, they couldn’t look away from sheer overwhelming curiosity. Because how could the source of such pure fear come from the smallest group to arrive?

Where Lords, Pirate Captains, Nobles, and the insanely rich showed it through their overwhelming numbers, the shadowed group steadily approaching filled barely a fraction of that number. Then under the streetlights they saw the two figures leading them; Warlord Doflamingo who many up until this night had been sorely glad to only see in the papers, grinning broadly and in the flesh walk by outside their homes and onward to the Lord’s estate. All breaths held were only released when they were out of view but still their curiosity remained as they relived the thought of the terrifying Warlord and the person by his side; by all accounts a seemingly normal-albeit stunning- person but what made them pause in their estimation was if someone like you could walk by so at ease with a man like that by your side it led to the next question; what kind of monster were you truly?

The entire estate was an overwhelming feast for the eyes, not in a way that made you look around with wonder and awe. It was overkill and an eyesore. Were Dressrosa’s Palace had charm and taste in its decor, even with Doflamingo and his family living there it was never overboard. It was classy. This? This was an uncoordinated headache. If you had to take a guess, whoever owned the place decided that he wanted gold and diamonds to be his main aesthetic and ‘matched’ it with whatever his decorator told him was the most expensive pieces of furniture, art, and other overpriced items to fill the space. Your suspicions only grew when you and Doflamingo stepped into the entrance hall to be met with the very large statue of the man you’d assumed was your host made entirely out of the brightest gold and not-so subtly inlayed with various gems that caught and reflected the lights around it. 

You blinked and trained your expression into one as polite as you could and began to think of what simple half-compliment you could give offer should your host point it out. In order to protect your eyes in every sense of the word, you turned your head slightly and glanced at Doflamingo only to immediately regret it. Humour began to bubble in your chest as you could tell he was disgusted by the centrepiece to the estate. Even with his grin broadly in place and his dark tinted glasses firmly in place you could feel how personally offended Doflamingo felt about it and the overall decor of the building. “So…think you’ll ask him who the sculptor is?” You forced out in a soft whisper while trying to stop the laughter from building any further in your chest. The smile twitched at your lips when Doflamingo forced his head away from the golden monstrosity in front of him. “It’d really heighten the class of the Palace, don’t you think?”

“If I learn the name of the person responsible for this I can’t be held accountable.” Doflamingo muttered  low enough for only you to hear, his restrained grin switching into a genuine one when you quickly pressed your lips together in the hopes of hiding your amusement.

“Darling look at that statue!” You heard a whisper from behind you. The sincere gasp of admiration made you take a slow breath to try and centre yourself, braced and trying to appear composed. “We should get one of us commissioned.”

“Oh we simply must. Look ahead, that’s the Doflamingo!” The woman’s husband excitedly murmured and you bit the inside of your cheek when you spotted the vein in your date’s forehead twitch. “If he’s admiring it, you know it’s a must buy. Quick, let’s find the host-” Hearing the couple scurry off and knowing Doflamingo was somehow to blame for the artist getting another job was your breaking point.

Quickly you ducked your head and pressed it against Doflamingo’s arm that you had a loose hold on, your laughter muffled as best you could while sharply Doflamingo turned and led you away to avoid anyone else falsely connecting his sense of taste with the statue he was now imagining destroying in every way possible. “I need a fucking drink.”

“Aren't you a little bit flattered that they want to emulate you and your stellar eye for art?” Before Doflamingo could answer your teasing question you were both distracted by the sound of a gun firing from the gardens you’d both passed to get to the front door. 

“Looks like someone couldn’t wait to get the festivities underway…” you heard someone chuckle to their entourage. Silently you took the glass of wine offered to you by one of the servants and returned you attention back to Doflamingo who was already draining his glass in one swift motion and quickly reaching for another. 

“You weren’t lying about sloppy assassination attempts.” You sighed before taking a small sip of your drink, pausing when the rich taste took you by surprise. It was sweet and indulgent and actually pleasant. Given your host’s thoughts on visual decoration you had anticipated it to be overwhelming and repulsive. 

“Nah, that was just someone settling a grudge. The assassinations will be attempted after more drink has been had and guards are down.” Doflamingo chuckled, taking his time with this glass of wine as he slowly began to take in his surroundings, silently sizing up those mingling around him. Already he’d counted many heads trying to discreetly glance his way only to avoid directly looking at his face fully out of fear of being caught. That’s when the stares lingered on your face and form instead. Just enough for Doflamingo to notice you’d captured their attention but not too long to be seen as ogling. They at least were practiced enough with these gatherings to appear neutral and casual. 

“Doflamingo!” You and Doflamingo turned to see the smaller and equally unimpressive version of the statue approach with hands out in a welcoming gesture. Adorned in jewels and garish fabrics, the Lord smiled broadly at the man in front of him, bowing in reverence. “It was truly an honour to see your name on my final guest-list, I had to pinch myself repeatedly to ensure I wasn’t dreaming. I can die a happy man now.”

“Careful, wrong ears might take you up on that offer.” Doflamingo chuckled while you smirked to see the fear flash in your host’s eyes before he quickly composed himself enough to force out a small laugh of his own. “So with that little commotion in the garden, are we to expect much of the same tonight?”

“Oh yes.” Your eyes steeled slightly when the Lord in front of you lost his nervousness and the sickening enjoyment at the promise of more bloodshed was made clear. “Many of the guests here will find themselves with ample opportunities for vengeance, advancement of power and wealth, and temptation to betray their allies throughout the night when they see the rest of those in attendance.”

“Excellent, I can wait to see how the night plays out then. Doflamingo chuckled again, his hand slowly moving to settle on the small of your back when he noticed the subtle shift in your demeanour. “How do you feel about that, angel?”

You glanced at Doflamingo at the petname he’d suggested back on the ship and your lips twitched briefly, knowing it still wasn’t the one Doflamingo felt suited you best. At Doflamingo’s question, it wasn’t just the Lord that turned his attention to you but others who were clearly wishing earshot while trying to appear like they weren’t eavesdropping glanced your way too. Thoughtfully you pursed your lips and offered the Lord a polite smile. “So everyone can find a way to benefit from another guest’s death tonight?” You asked, keeping your tone innocently curious. When the Lord smirked and nodded you let out a small hum of interest. “You’re a brave man…”

“Oh? How so dear?” The Lord asked with a tightened smile, unnerved by your simple observation.

“Well if I planned a party like this with that goal in mind I’d begin to wonder who among my guests would benefit the most from my death.” You explained with a sweet smile. “But I’m sure you’ve planned for that too.” Doflamingo grinned at your remark and the Lord’s mouth opened and closed as his mind only now began to consider he could be a target too.

“Well obviously, I’m among friends and allies, and my own bodyguards.” He tried to dismiss your idea with a short laugh.

“But you said so yourself, the opportunity to betray allies is all part of tonight.” You pointed out, still maintaining the perfect expression of concern and curiosity. “Right, Doffy?”

“Right, such faith in your own power to not be a target. Brave indeed.” Doflamingo grinned while leading you to the next room, not needing to stay in the presence of his host any longer if he truly did want to enjoy himself tonight. “We’ll drink to your health.”

“Come on you’ve got your Marine training. Surveillance was one of your specialties, so tell me what you’re seeing.” Doflamingo urged low in your ear as you both found yourselves standing on one of the balconies overlooking one of the crowded halls were the guests plotted, drank, talked, and danced. So far for much of the party the two of you had kept to yourselves, finding your own entertainment in listening to conversations not meant for either of you, judging the other guests for their obvious actions, and sometimes simply because both of you were baffled at their choice in clothing for the night. Similar to your host, many in attendance with a sickening amount of wealth were incapable of taste. 

You stood in front of Doflamingo, his body turned to press against yourself in a subtle closeness without fully engulfing you. Silently you scanned the crowd below you. You absently ran your fingers against the rim of your glass as you watched and Doflamingo grinned when he knew you spotted something by the way your head tilted just a fraction and your fingers stilled. Your eyes darted to him and you smirked before nodding down in the direction for him to look. “That’s not the date he arrived with.” You stated and Doflamingo looked down at the couple. He vaguely remembered the guest but when he looked at the date clinging to his arm tightly and giggling at whatever he said, he couldn’t honestly say he could see a difference. “So either his original date is an assassin in disguise and this one is a decoy or the woman currently on his arm is the assassin and will kill him later on when they’re alone.”

“Bet his date is off killing someone.” Doflamingo wagered and you pursed your lips before shaking your head.

“I bet he’s the target.” You smirked. “If he’d sent an assassin he’d be trying to look for her, or the person he wanted dead. Mostly it’d be unintentional, nervousness, but he’d still be waiting to see if he succeeded or not.” Doflamingo watched the man again, starting to see what you did and he laughed. Ultimately time would tell which of you was correct. 

“What else?” He asked, thoroughly entertained by the things you were able to notice and found this to be one of the better parties he’d attended because of it. 

“They’re having an affair.” You said, your gaze zeroing on a new target. For this one he had to adjust his stance, leaning forward and settling his hand on the railing while the other settled on your hip. He wordlessly observed. A trio. The crimeboss was talking to another criminal power. As expected the wife looked bored but that was it. “The bodyguard and his boss’ wife. A bit cliche but seems to be the case here.”

“They haven’t so much as looked at each other.” Doflamingo smirked, closer now his breath fanned against your skin as his lips barely grazed the shell of your ear. 

“Exactly but look at the way he’s standing. The wife is his priority.” You explained softly, pointing out the chain of events now that Doflamingo was watching and able to see for himself the obviousness of it. “Anytime the husband touches his wife, the bodyguard tenses. Jealous… then when the husband isn’t looking she reassures her lover with something small, a glance or a brief touch that looks accidental.”

“Yeah, I see it now.” Doflamingo smirked with a building chuckle, glancing down at you when you turned your head towards him. This close now it was so close to let his lips brush against yours and from the way your eyes flickered briefly at them, he knew you wanted it just as much as he did but he let the moment hang for just a moment. Before either of you got the chance to act the sound of Doflamingo’s personal den-den mushi began to ring from inside his feather coat. You let out a small breath and leant back, turning your head to glance over the balcony again while Doflamingo  clicked his tongue and grabbed the snail, the call coming from Dressrosa. He wasn’t going to answer it with so many people around. He uttered a quick ‘be right back’ and you nodded understanding. 

Immediately you felt the overwhelming but steady presence of Doflamingo disappear and you sighed softly, going back to observing the crowd to pass the time while you waited for him to return. The minutes passed by somewhat peacefully then you spotted something new developing that made your eyes narrow. Pushing yourself away from the railing you headed down into the room and strode straight for what had caught your attention. Every step you took was purposeful and you weren’t thinking about anything else. Swiftly you made it just in time and intersected yourself between Baby 5 and the repulsive figure that had been not-so charmingly and lecherously trying to get close to her. At first you ignored the man and smiled at Baby 5, leaning in so only she would hear your words to her. “Gladius needs you.”

“Wh-what?” Baby 5 asked the slight dusting of blush against her cheeks dissipating at your arrival, snapping out of her enamoured state when she realised you were the one talking to her. Just before you arrived she’d been so close to accepting the man’s marriage proposal. “Okay, I’ll find him now!”

“H-hey wait a minute!” The man began to call after her but it was too late and he turned his attention to you. At first he was angered but when he got a proper look at you he instead grinned. “Well aren't you an upgrade? What’s the matter, sweetheart were you jealous your friend was getting more attention?”

“Something like that.” You told him with a restrained smile. “Think the drink was getting to my head. I should go and get some fresh air, enjoy your evening.” With nothing more to say to the man you walked away and left to one of the side gardens, deciding it was a good idea to get out from the constant crowd and noise. You took a breath and leaned against one of the stone pillars only to frown when you heard someone approach. Glancing over your shoulder you saw the man had followed you with a smirk on his lips. “Yes?”

“Aw come on don’t be like that. We weren’t finished back there.” His attempt at speaking seductively made you question just how naive Baby 5 was to fall for this. “I was looking at a sure thing with your friend and now I’m all alone. Don’t be cruel, make it up to me.”

“Cruel?” You repeated in amusement.

“Yeah, getting my attention, looking like that and not even letting me have a taste of your sweet company.” He explained, stepping closer. You remained against the pillar and caught the man’s wrist as his hand settled on your thigh; stopping his touch from progressing further. “See? Playing hard to get is cruel.”

“No, I’m being kind.” You explained gently, leaning in just a little. “Do you want to know what I’d do if I was cruel?”

“Tell me then sweetheart. Make it worth my while though, yeah?”

“If I was cruel I’d let you get closer. I’d let your hand go where it wanted, let your lips taste mine. I’d 'make it worth your while’ as you said it.”

“Damn, I’m still not seeing how that’s cruel.” The man chuckled about to lean in and kiss you when your thumb and finger pinched his chin to stop him. 

“Maybe not…” you hummed, a smirk growing on your lips. “The cruelty would be in what comes after. When you have to deal with him.” Your eyes moved passed the man and locked on Doflamingo’s as he loomed dangerously in the shadows. The man barely had time to glance over his shoulder before he felt the flare of pain against his wrist and he screamed, lifting his arm into the air to see his hand was gone, blood spraying everywhere. In shock, the man pressed his rapidly bleeding stump against his body and stared down at his hand now lying on the cold ground. You were forgotten as he staggered to crouch down and retrieve the missing appendage only to sway weakly and dizzy. With his hand in reach he blinked to see it flit away, overcome with confusion and pain he blinked up to see his hand swaying tauntingly above his head as Doflamingo stood over him but the Warlord was ignoring him, only watching you let out a small sigh, wiping the spray of blood away from your cheek and look down at your now spoiled clothes in exasperation. Doflamingo’s heavy frown deepened and he glared down at the man muttering about his hand while trying to stay conscious. With no regard for him, Doflamingo flicked his wrist and let the severed hand sail away into the darkness. “If you can find your hand, you can keep it.”

Not bothering to wait and see if he managed to get to his feet or not, Doflamingo quickly took your arm and pulled you to his side. Moving his grip to settle on your side he pulled you inside the estate and through the still bustling halls. You walked steadily, keeping your expression unreadable as you let Doflamingo lead you wherever he was set on going. You noticed many that had been gathering liquid courage in order to finally approach Doflamingo immediately rethink their decisions when they spotted the both of you with your clothes marked with fresh blood; from the amount they knew it wasn’t a massacre but it was enough to be a warning to stay away.

Eventually you both entered your room for the night and your nose wrinkled to see the style didn’t improve here either. At the sound of the door shutting you glanced at Doflamingo as his hands cracked in barely restrained rage. “Before you say anything, I only acted to get Baby 5 out of trouble-“ 

The rest of your explanation was swiftly killed in your chest when Doflamingo stormed towards you, backing you against the wall. Fingers twisting in your hair and securing against the back of your neck while grabbing your thigh, his mouth crashed against yours harshly. Instantly the dizzying need to match the intensity and hunger of the kiss came over you. Still you managed to cling to some tiny shred of thought. With a reluctant groan you broke away from the kiss, eyes falling shut and a small shiver running through you when Doflamingo growled and pressed his lips against your jaw. “I was already reaching my limit. Bad enough having to see those worms looking at you, seeing their desires in their eyes when they thought I wasn’t looking. I told you they wouldn’t be satisfied with just looking, didn’t I?” His hand on your thigh tightened and his knee moved between your legs, pressing his body further against you to cause a soft moan break from your parted lips. “Seeing that piece of scum try to touch you was the last straw.”

“Thought you didn’t get jealous…” You huffed out with a breathless laugh, unable to stop yourself from grinding your hips against his leg, chasing just a little bit of that delicious friction. You secured your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer and let your lips teasingly brush against his before leading him into another hungry, all consuming kiss. 

“No, not jealous. I’m possessive and no one touches or tries to claim what’s so obviously, rightfully, only mine.” Doflamingo’s voice broke out in a deep, rumbling purr as he pulled your hands free and pinned them above your head with just one of his. Without warning Doflamingo bit your neck at the pulse point, drawing another moan from you as your back arched and body pressed further against his. Doflamingo broke away and saw your skin hadn’t yielded to his mouth, the only sign he’d been there was the outline of saliva from his lips. “You’re mine, mi alma.”

“So claim me, Doffy.” You urged, your voice just as heavy with need, unable to think any further beyond your want for pleasure. At your words that final frayed thread between you both, that tiny but insistent warning sign that appeared every time the two of you danced too close to the point of no return finally disintegrated and the two of you drawing each other headlong into lust and instinct with reason nowhere to be seen. 

Immediately Doflamingo pulled you away from the wall and backed you towards the bed, as he walked Doflamingo wasted no more time and bit your lower lip, swiping his tongue against it before drawing you into a dizzying kiss. Effortlessly he ripped the clothes from your body with one hand. His smug smile appeared when you let out an unimpressed but also unsurprised huff against his lips at his actions, pushing you backwards and finally getting to take in the sight of your naked, exquisite body as you pushed yourself up to rest on your elbows. 

Your pupils were blown wide with lust as Doflamingo stripped his clothes from his board frame. When his thick, hard cock sprang free your breath hitched and you shamelessly stared at it, your darkened gaze becoming hungry. You licked your lips and returned your gaze to Doflamingo, a grin of your own spreading in a mirror of his. Inching closer you grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards you, legs immediately locking around his waist, lifting your hips just enough to feel his twitching length press against your entrance. 

Both of you had no more need or want for patience and in perfect sync, you lowered yourself onto Doflamingo while he thrust in. Your body welcomed him with no resistance and your whole body, down to the very fibre of your being felt like it was alight with the rawest pleasure you’d ever felt. Your lips trailed from Doflamingo’s jaw to his ear, urging him to move faster, and deeper, your voice a siren song in luring him to act on your every whispered desire. Rapidly you were reaching your peak and still you needed more. 

As your climax washed over you, your heels dug firmer against the base of Doflamingo’s spine as his mouth bit down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his own high vastly approaching but still the two of you were unrelenting, still not finished. As the aftershocks of your first waves subsided your hands roamed over Doflamingo’s chest and down the rippling muscles of his back. “Doffy, more.” You urged in his ear in between swears and moans uttered like a prayer. “Don’t hold back.”

Doflamingo let out a long animalistic growl and without stopping his thrusts that you met with ease he pushed himself forward, pinning you between the mattress and his body. Hands roaming across your body he roughly grabbed your thigh as his other hand secured around your throat, his thrusts picking up in force and speed. At the change, your fucked out expression filled with bliss and Doflamingo now unshackled gave you what you wanted, what you both wanted. In all his years and all the lovers or playthings he took to his bed he had to restrain himself in some capacity. With his own gratification the priority with those nobodies, he still had to hold onto some semblance of self-control because they were worth nothing to him if they broke completely. His own strength was monstrous and while he was hardly ever gentle, he offered them some kindness that they didn’t realise. 

With you though, it was unnecessary. The power he was exerting at this moment would have snapped anyone else’s neck immediately and you reacted as though it was a simple caress. Your body was literally made for him, shaped perfectly to take him in a way no-one else could. As you both neared the edge of your climax, Doflamingo absently thought of the pet-name he’d called you. ‘Mi alma,’ it had been said without truly thinking about it, in the moment of his heated fury at someone thinking they were deserving of this pleasure you were drawing out from him but it was the only thing that sounded right. 

“Mi alma.” He groaned out again and your eyes focused onto his face, your hand wrapping around the wrist of the hand still against your throat. With a gentle tug, you pulled his hand away to press a quick kiss against his wrist before pulling Doflamingo forward, wanting as little space as possible between you at that moment. As your orgasms hit again, you called out Dofalmingo’s name while the Warlord’s free hand braced against the headboard being you. With the final snap of his hips you were too lost in the moment with stars clouding your vision and ears ringing to notice the sound of the headboard snapping and the legs of the bed finally giving out and splintering, crashing to the floor. 

Doflamingo laughed in your ear and his hips stilled at last, kissing your jaw and skimming your throat with his nose as your senses slowly returned. Blinking you craned your head back, noticing there was something different. You slowly connected the dots and you focused your clearing vision back on Doflamingo, offering him a lazy grin. “Weren’t my clothes enough?”

“I blame you.” Doflamingo chuckled lowly and unapologetically while you rolled your eyes. “But if you’re still so broken up about it, I think I can get you to forgive me.”

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[moonchild9350]

Back to you

Summary: in a world where everyone has a soulmate, you find yours in the least expected way.

Pairing: Felix x fab!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, sci fi au, slice of life au

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: time jumps, kissing lol, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, making love, dirty talk?, kinda an open ending

Notes: stuck in my sci fi era lol i had this idea for a while and decided to finish it recently. let me know what you think!

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keep me motivated.

Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©️moonchild9350 (2024)

“We’re done!”

Two words, two little words. Who would have thought those two words would break Felix’s heart. He thought Xania was the one, after all she was supposed to be his soulmate.

Felix turned to walk down Xania’s stairs, taking each step slowly, one foot in front of the other. He scratched his blonde hair, messing up the little hairs that were pulled back into a ponytail. He had a frown on his face, as he contemplated where he went wrong.

Now, without Xania, he was back to square one. He needed to remedy this and fast before others found out. The world frowns upon a twenty five year old bachelor, especially in a world where people have a soulmate assigned to them since birth.

It’s the year 3050, and humanity has improved for the better, natural selection weeding out the weak. Aging is slower due to scientific advancement, where now every year the earth rotates around the sun, humans do not age as they did a century ago. Instead every five years, a human ages one year. In this case, Felix has been twenty-five for five years now. Next year on his birthday, he will finally be twenty six…and still without finding his soulmate.

Felix continues to walk down the street, muttering under his breath, conflicted on what to do next. He would have to go back to the company Soulmate and Co. and file a complaint against the lady who told him Xania was his soulmate. Deciding that this is what he’s going to do, he turns around and hails a hover car, giving the address of the building he needs.

The ride doesn’t take long as the car glides through the sky, bypassing other hover cars and buildings. Once there, he slips a coin into the pouch next to his seat and exits the car. He takes a moment to view the building in front of him, tilting his head back so he can take in the whole thing.

It seems to reach all the way to the sky, the glass reflecting the bright sun that is shining today.

He marches up the steps and through the double doors, walking past the seating area, which is filled with various other clients, some smiling while others are distraught, their heads in their hands. He continues to walk through the foyer, making his way to the front desk.

“The matchmakers please,” Felix tells the person behind the desk.

She nods at his request and signals for a guide to take him to his destination. He follows the lady, to an elevator with glass doors at the end of the hall. She beckons him to enter the glass container and presses a button labeled ‘level 50’ before stepping back with a smile.

The elevator ascends gracefully, gliding on the gears without a sound, the many floors passing by with a blur. A minute passes and then two until he finally reaches the floor he needs. The elevator doors open with a hiss and Felix exits, stepping outside of the box.

He looks left and right, before noticing a directory plastered on the wall straight ahead. He doesn’t give this a second glance, having been here before, but instead makes his way down the hall until he reaches a door with a placard on it identifying “Mavis, Matchmaker”

Felix pushes open the door and marches in, determination in his step. Mavis’s secretary looks up and smiles, waiting for him to approach the desk.

“How can I help you?” She asks pleasantly, ignoring the annoyed face Felix makes at her.

“I need to speak with Mavis,” Felix pauses for a moment before he decides to add, “now.”

The secretary eyes him, most likely deciding if he would be a threat. She must have ultimately decided he was ok because she smiled once more before pressing a button and announcing that he was here.

Felix only had to wait a brief moment when the door to the left opened, revealing a beautiful girl in the doorway. She had the signature insignia, signaling that she was a matchmaker plastered on her chest for all to see.

“Mr. Lee,” she said shocked, her eyes widened at the sight of him.

“Mavis, I need to speak with you.”

Mavis stepped out of the way, beckoning him into her office. Felix quickly walked over, sitting in one of the many chairs scattered throughout the small office.

“What can I do for you? If I remember correctly, you had found your soulmate? Why are you here?”

Felix looked at mavis incredulously. “Why am I here? Because xania broke up with me! She’s not my soulmate, which means you messed up!”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was furious, and how can he not be? Because of the matchmakers mistake, he’d be the laughing stock of his family, having to explain that he was told the wrong person was his soulmate.

Mavis looked at him, her eyes widened at the accusation. “Surely there was a mistake. Xania is your soulmate…the roster confirmed it,” she hurriedly said as she pulled up a database with her fingers.

She scanned the various documents, her hand moving this way and that as she looked up his profile. finding the page she needed, she stared at it for a moment, her eyes moving across the screen.

As she came to a certain area, her eyes widened and her mouth opened as she took a deep breath. Recovering quickly, she straightened up and looked at Felix.

“It seems there indeed was a mistake. I am so sorry Mr. Lee. Xania was not your soulmate.”

Felix stared at Mavis, fighting the urge to say something he would regret. Instead he said, “thank you, yes there has been a mistake. And now I need you to tell me who is my soulmate.”

Mavis hesitated, not sure what to say. “Well…I can but it’s complicated. It seems like your true soulmate is already bound to someone else…”

Bound to someone else? Shit. What is he to do now? His soulmate is galavanting with another person.

“So what do I do now?” Felix asked dejectedly, his head hanging down.

Mavis thought for a moment, considering the options. Typically there’s no way to go back and change the pathway of things, but she had pity on Felix. After all it was her mistake.

“There is a way…but mind you it’s very dangerous.”

Felix perked up, his ears intent on listening to what Mavis had to say. He’d do anything and he means anything to be with his proper soulmate.

“You can go back in time and find your soulmate, meet them, talk to them, convince them they’re your soulmate. Rewrite the story. You’ll have to time travel, but we can get you there. Five spins around the sun should do it.”

Time travel? Felix didn’t even know such a thing existed, but then again, he shouldn’t be shocked.

“Ok, I’ll do it,” Felix said with determination.

Mavis nodded, pleased with Felix’s answer. She pressed a button on her desk, before speaking softly, “please send a device member to my office.”

She released the button and smiled as she placed her hands on her desk. Felix shifted awkwardly in his seat, unsure of where to look or what to say as Mavis was silent. He decided to look at the files on her shelf, his eyes roaming over script he couldn’t understand.

He looked with interest until the door opened suddenly, causing him to jump slightly in his seat.

“Ah, come in please. Have a seat. “ Mavis said as a shy looking girl in blue scrubs walked in.

She looked curiously at Felix, taking him in. She carefully sat in the chair next to him and looked at Mavis, waiting for instruction.

“Melody, this here is Mr. Lee. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, he needs to go back to the past, specifically five years ago. Can you escort him to the vault and assist him please?”

Melody nodded, a soft smile spreading on her face. “Most certainly.”

Mavis smiled, “great! Well off you both go! Good luck Mr. Lee!”

She swiveled away, her back to Felix and melody. Felix got up as his escort got up and followed her out of the office. They walked through narrow hallways, went down flights of stairs, the walk seeming to go on forever until stopping at a large metal door.

Felix watched as she placed her palm on a scanner, the laser reading her dna ensuring her identity matched who she said she was. A soft beep rang in the otherwise empty corridor, the door springing open slightly.

Melody stepped in between the crack, Felix following right behind her. The door shut with a finite click, locking them within the room.

As Felix faced forward, the lights within the room turned on, illuminating the area with soft light. He scanned the room nothing seeming of interest until his eyes landed on the machine in the center of the room.

It had glass walls, just like everything in the building, a small panel just to the left of the door. Melody walked over to a switch on the wall and lifted it, a soft humming sound present within the room as things powered up.

She went to the panel and started pressing button after button, most likely setting the time frame for which he has to go back. After a while, she turned to face him.

“Mr. Lee, please step within the box.”

Felix cautiosouly walked to the glass box and stepped inside. Despite the walls being made of glass, he couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic, the walls closing in on him.

He jumped at the sound of static, melody’s voice echoing in the small chamber.

“I will transport you back to five years ago. You will still be twenty five. Complete your mission but know you only have one year to complete your task, whether you are successful or not. Once you are done, you’ll know what to do in order to get back.”

Felix was nervous, his heart rapidly beating so hard within his chest, he felt as if it would jump out any moment. He wiped the thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead as he stared at Melody through the glass wall.

She gave a thumbs up and smiled before pressing a green button. The humming noise slowly intensified, until there was a buzzing sound echoing in his ear.

The air in front of him started to ripple, the atoms slowly manipulating themselves to transport him to a different time and place.

As his surroundings started to fade and become unrecognizable, he felt a tingle on his skin, almost as if he was being touched with a million needles. The feeling intensified until his belly started to churn, nausea taking over as the air became harder to breathe.

There was a flash of white light and just when he thought he would pass out from the sensation within the room, there was quiet and stillness…but only for a moment.

The air expanded, his breath caught off until…. -- -- It was a clear night, the sky black, the stars twinkling and the moon bright. There was barely any wind blowing, but the trees swayed nonetheless, providing a refreshing breeze on this summer night.

You were laying on a blanket in your backyard, star gazing, enjoying your night off. The night was silent, that is until you heard a low buzz, traveling from one ear to the other.

You dismissed the sound until the buzz got louder, almost deafening. Sitting upright, you looked around, searching for the source of the annoying sound.

You were about to give up after not seeing anything when the space in front of you shifted, a small hole opening up in the night air.

You stared horrified, unable to move as the hole got bigger, and a bright light appeared within the space.

You let out a scream as a man fell from the hole, his arms outstretched as he tumbled through, landing directly on top of you, causing you to fall backwards.

You let out a huff as your head lightly bounced on the soft grass, your eyes wide as you stared at the man who came from nowhere.

He laid there dazed, his eyes trying to focus as he attempted to breathe. You took him in, eyeing his features of dazzling brown eyes that seemed to shine even at night, millions of freckles littering his face like the stars of the night sky, and small, plush heart shaped lips.

This man was beautiful, that you couldn’t deny. An angel for sure sent from heaven. However, that thought dashed from your head as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” The man said as he scrambled to get off of you, grunting as he fell over in the process.

“Ahh!” You exclaimed, scooting over to him to help him up. “Are you alright?”

He looked at you, his eyes taking you in before he blushed and looked down.

“I’m ok,” he replied softly. “I’m sorry, I um…I think…actually, I have no clue what happened…or if I’m even in the correct place.”

You chuckled as the man stuttered through his explanation, as he clearly had no clue what was going on.

“How about we start with your name?” You suggested, sitting next to him.

“Name. Right. Yeah. Ummm…I’m Felix,” he said as continued to stare at the ground.

“Well, Felix, I’m y/n.”

'Y/n,’ Felix thought, ‘such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.’ When you said your name, he felt his heart flutter and a warm sensation spread through him, which was contrary to how he felt not even five minutes ago.

He was in the right place. He’s not sure how he knew, he just felt that it felt right deep within.

Felix returned his gaze to you, taking in your calm demeanor, despite just seeing him come out of a black hole essentially. His eyes roamed your face, your eyes trained on him in concern, your lips slightly parted.

He felt his heart race as he continued to stare at you remembering how you felt underneath him, so soft and perfect.

Felix shook his head, coming back to the time at hand. He looked around the yard, taking in the little oasis you had created. There were fairy lights illuminating the space, the lights twinkling in the night air in such a way it almost seemed magical.

In the corner was a hot tub, the steam rising in the air beckoning whoever was near to relax within its waters. He looked down at the ground in which both of you were sitting, taking in the blanket and pillows you had set up.

“Looks like I interrupted you…I’m sorry,” Felix said softly.

“It’s ok,” you said with a smile. You let a moment pass before opening your mouth once more, curiosity getting the best of you.

“So um…time travel?” You said gesturing to the air in which Felix fell from.

You wondered where he came from and most importantly why, especially why he landed within your yard.

“Uh yeah, I’m from the future on a mission,” Felix replied, as his hand ran through his blond locks.

“Ahh the future. What’s your mission?”

Felix hesitated unsure if he should tell you the reason why’s he here. He decided against it, wanting to get a feel first before diving in. He has a year after all, why rush it.

“I can’t tell you that unfortunately,” Felix said apologetically.

You hummed and brushed his statement away, leaving it at that. You knew he would tell you when he’s ready, if at all.

“Well, it’s late and you probably have no where to stay, so you can crash here while you work on your mission if you’d like,” you said as you got up and dusted the dirt from your shorts.

Felix stared at you in shock, surprised you would offer your home to someone you didn’t know so readily.

“Oh..ok, yeah…sure thanks!”

Felix got up as well, reaching down to help you fold the blanket you were sitting on. He followed you to your door, curiosity plastered on his face as you opened the door and stepped into your home.

He was taken aback, the space feeling so…homey. It was decked out in lights, their glow illuminating the space with soft light, making it more intimate. The space radiated a floral scent, one that was intense but surprisingly was not overwhelming in the small space.

Your home was just so…you.

The thought made Felix chuckle in delight.

“Well it’s not much, but this is my home,” you said, gesturing to the small space.

“I like it, it’s very comfortable,” Felix said in earnest.

You smiled and nodded, happy that he liked your little space. You bustled around, making your way to the kitchen.

“Tea?” You asked as your hands started dancing through the air, shifting through the options you had in your inventory.

“Sure,” Felix said watching as you selected an option, the kettle appearing from thin air onto the stove.

You turned the heat on, the flames licking the bottom of the kettle immediately. Felix watched silently as you bustled around the kitchen, humming a little song as you prepared snacks.

The kettle whistled, the shrill sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. You grabbed two mugs and poured the tea before carefully carrying them to the couch. You gave Felix his, and then brought the snacks over.

Sitting down, you looked at the man next to you. He seemed nervous, his fingers drumming on the cup. Your eyes roamed his body, taking in his little frame, his baby face. He really was cute you’d have to say.

Felix looked up at you suddenly, his eyes meeting yours. You smiled reassuringly, hoping he’d understand he can be himself.

It didnt take long for Felix to open up, his bubbly personality shining through. You listened to him talk about his life in the future, his job where he helps others figure out what they want to do with their lives.

He talks about his friends, how close they are and how they’ve saved him more times than he can count. He even mentioned how he thought he found his soulmate, but apparently it was a mistake, one that is rarely made.

You eyed him, noticing that something was off when he mentioned his soulmate. You couldn’t place a finger to it but decided to leave it, knowing he’ll tell you the details when he’s ready.

The night passed in conversation, you feeling at home with Felix which was odd since you’ve just met him. You looked at the clock and noticed how late it was.

“Shit,” you muttered, “I need to get to bed. I work tomorrow.”

Felix nodded and helped you clean up. He knew the night would have to end eventually but he’s sad it did so soon.

“You can have the couch,” you said as you started making a makeshift bed.

Felix stood in the corner watching as you finished his bed and then went to your closet grabbing a shirt. He took it from your hands gratefully.

“Sorry, it’s the biggest I have,” you said sheepishly.

“It’s ok, thanks.”

You nodded, happy he didn’t mind the clothes. “Well I’m going to grab a shower, make yourself at home.”

Felix watched as you grabbed some clothes and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door softly. He heard the shower start, the sound of water hitting the wall.

He sat down on the couch, his eyes roaming around the room. He can’t wait to shower you with love, take care of you, after all you’re his soulmate whether you’ve realized it or not.

-- --

The next morning, you awakened to the smell of bacon, the scent permeating your home. Your belly growled, signaling you to feed it which made you chuckle.

You stretched and stood up before padding to the kitchen. The sight of Felix at the stove cooking made your heart swell, a smile gracing your face. You stood in the corner and watched him, watching as he tried to finish the meal.

He was struggling a little bit but trying nonetheless, little curses falling from his mouth. Turning around he noticed you, causing him to drop the spoon he was holding.

You chuckled at his clumsiness, bending down to pick up the utensil.

Felix was startled at the sight of you, his cheeks instantly reddening. There you stood in your little sleep shirt and shorts, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could see your tits, your nipples hardened and poking through the silk. His eyes wandered down to your ass, so round and plush within the little shorts.

He looked away in embarrassment as you stood up, spoon in hand. He took it from your hand and went back to finishing up breakfast.

You sat down and waited, your chin in your hand. This was nice, a man cooking for you. A cute one at that. Felix walked over with your plate in hand, setting it down in front of you.

“Bon appetite!” He said, bowing slightly.

You giggled and picked up your fork to dig in. The first bite was…interesting so to say, the taste strong mixed with…

“Umm, Felix? Did you use salt in this?”

Felix looked up at you, his eyes wide. “Yeah, I did. Is it too much?”

You shook your head yes, shyly looking down.

Felix put down his fork and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’ll get better I promise. I just wanted to fix something for you after you took me in.”

Now you felt bad, your heart falling at the sight of the little pout that formed on his face. He did work hard to prepare this for you, waking up way before you to do so.

“It’s ok, it’s still good. Let’s dig in ok?”

Felix smiled at your attempt to reconcile, picking up his fork once more. You both ate, enjoying each others company.

It’s been awhile since you’ve had anyone else in the house with you, since you opted to live alone. So it was weird to share such an intimate meal with someone else and a stranger at that.

After eating, you sat back, content that your belly was full.

“Thanks for breakfast Felix. I have to get ready for work now. You can make yourself at home though.”

Felix smiled, happy you enjoyed his meal. He watched as you got up and padded away to your closet, your hips swaying with each step.

He got up and started clearing away the dishes, falling into the routine of cleaning. He had everything planned out, and would start his mission once you left for work.

Felix startled as you came up behind him, now fully dressed with your work uniform, your hair nicely done and your makeup complete to perfection

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m leaving now. If you need anything while I’m gone just call. Here I’ll send you my phone number.”

Felix watched as you scrolled through your book, punching in your number and swiping your finger away sending it to his contact list. He pulled it up, staring at the digital screen in front of him. He saved your number, smiling at the name you gave yourself.

He walked to the door with you, standing aways back as you slipped into your shoes. He wished you a good day at work, watching as you softly shut the door behind you.

Felix stood there for a moment more before turning to go back into your home, ready to set his plan in action.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, Felix doted on you. He made your meals, helped around the house, he did anything you wanted him to do.

You had game nights, movie nights, crafting nights. Any type of activity he could do while spending time with you, he did it.

Felix loved spending time with you too. He learned your habits, how you immediately went to the snack cabinet after work. How you liked your baths, the bubbles not too high, the water hot, and with a glass of wine.

He learned that you didn’t like scary movies, remembering how you locked yourself in the bathroom after a scene, refusing to come out until he coaxed you out with the promise of cuddles.

That was on the agenda tonight, a movie and cuddles. You snuggled in within Felix’s arms, your head on his chest as his arms wrapped around your body protectively.

You were growing to love these quiet moments, just the two of you in a room illuminated with fairy lights. There was a storm brewing outside, the sound of the wind rattling the windowpane. Fall has rolled in into your little town, therefore, it has rained almost everyday, blanketing the world with the little drops falling from the sky.

However, you didn’t mind, being safe and warm within his arms. You nuzzled in, your head rubbing on his chest, causing Felix to look down at you.

“That tickles,” Felix chuckled, squeezing your arm.

“Mm sorry,” you sighed as you repeated your action.

Felix chuckled and returned his attention to the screen. You listened to his heart beating loudly beneath your ear, the rhythm increasing with each passing second.

You smiled at the fact, your eyes traveling back to the movie Felix had picked out to watch. You both went back to watching the movie, the end nearing.

Once the closing scene played, Felix started to shift, causing your head to move. You let out a whine, disgruntled at the fact your pillow was moving.

You slowly got up, your hair disheveled. Felix began laughing, his voice filling your small space as he clutched his stomach. You pouted and swatted at him, crossing your arms in defiance.

Felix wiped the tears from his eyes and pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around your body tightly. He squeezed and rocked you back and forth, ignoring your giggles and protests to let you go.

You felt your heart flutter, the cute but intimate moment making your cheeks flush with a hint of red.

Felix continued to rock you, his breath hot in your ear as he laughed. You know how to make him stop. With renewed vigor, you grabbed his shoulder and bit down lightly, your teeth sinking into his soft skin.

Felix yelped and scooted back, his eyes wide as he looked between you and his shoulder.

“You bit me!” He accused, as he chuckled.

You shrugged and giggled, getting up from the couch. You were tired and ready to go to bed. Felix watched as you went through your bedtime routine, his eyes following you with every step you took, forgetting about the slight sting on his shoulder.

Occasionally, you’d stop and strike a funny pose, giggling as Felix laughed at your antics. Eventually Felix got up and started getting his bed ready, as you finished up in the bathroom.

You settled into bed and watched as Felix finished his routine. You chuckled as Felix rushed to his bed, complaining that he was cold. He settled in quickly before sitting up and looking your way.

“Night y/n!”

“Night Felix,” you said blowing him a kiss.

You let out a giggle as Felix quickly laid down and covered himself with his blanket as he let out a little squeak. You turned out the light and settled in, closing your eyes to sleep.

The rain was pelting the windows, the sound calming in the dark. You snuggled in, preparing to sleep when a loud crack of thunder rang out, causing the house to vibrate.

Did you hear a scream? Your eyes snapped open as you strained your ears, listening for the sound again.

Time passed and the rain continued to fall. You were about to close your eyes once more when you heard a soft whisper within the room.

“Y/n?” Felix whispered, listening for your response.

When you didn’t say anything, he repeated his question, calling out to you softly yet a little more loud.

“Yes?” You responded, sitting up within your blankets.

“Can I sleep with you? I’m um…I don’t really like thunderstorms…”

You could hear the panic in his voice, his voice cracking as he said the last word.

“Of course, come here Lix,” you softly said, pulling back your covers for him to join you.

You felt the bed dip and Felix shuffle beneath the covers, scooting as close as he could to you. You wrapped your arms around him, cradling his head to you as if to comfort him.

Felix was shaking in your arms, his face tucked into your chest. He was embarrassed. How could he be your soulmate, the person who’s supposed to love and protect you, if he’s scared of a measly thunderstorm?

He closed his eyes and breathed you in, your scent calming him despite the storm outside. Eventually he lifted his head up and looked you in the eyes.

You stared back at him, holding his gaze as you held him close.

“Thank you,” Felix whispered, his lip turning upwards as if to smile.

“Of course,” you whispered back, as you slowly stroked his back.

You both laid there, listening to the rain and gazing into each others eyes. You were glad it was dark, that way Felix couldn’t see the crimson that littered your cheeks.

The air was charged with want, the need to be close to each other palpable. Felix shuffled closer until his lips were inches away from yours.

You could feel his nose on yours, his ragged breath on your lips as he held onto you. Your heart was beating rapidly, as nerves took over, your palms sweaty as you gripped Felix’s shirt.

“Y/n,” Felix whispered before closing the gap between you, his soft lips pressing gently to yours.

He held them there for a moment more before breaking away, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

“Felix,” you whispered as you connected your lips again, wanting to feel his lips on yours again.

the rain pelted the windows, the thunder rang out, and the lighting illuminates the two of you, tucked away within your blankets, bodies pressed against each other as you lazily pressed your lips together.

The moment was soft, gentle, intimate, as if this moment was meant to be.

And in Felix’s mind, it was, without a doubt fate.

After the eventful night embraced in each others arms, kissing the night away, your relationship turned for the better.

Felix was ecstatic as he felt closer to his goal than ever. He was holding your hand, swinging it back and forth as you both walked home from a day of shopping.

He took the opportunity to spoil you, buying you whatever you wanted. He found himself smiling whenever you would thank him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I spy something blue!” You exclaimed, squeezing his hand in yours.

Felix’s eyes roamed the street, looking for whatever had caught your eye. Spotting a blue car, his grinned sure he got it this time.

“That blue car there,” he said as he pointed at the vessel.

“Ugh how are you so good at this?” You whined, pouting at the fact that he got another guess right.

Felix shrugged and chuckled. He pulled you along in the direction of your home, wanting to get back as soon as possible.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your home. Felix pressed his finger against the scanner on the door, the box emitting a tune signaling it accepted his fingerprint. You both tumbled into your home, laughing at the joke you had just made.

Felix dropped the bags he was holding and pulled you in for a kiss, swallowing your shriek of surprise. You relaxed instantly in his embrace, matching his pace as he moved his lips with yours.

He pulled away for a moment before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips again and again until you were giggling, your face warm, and heart fluttering at his affection.

“Such a sweet sound,” Felix cooed as he pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Come on, let’s get the snacks ready! I’m ready to have a nice soak!”

You both decided to have a relaxing night in your hot tub, the weather not too cold or hot. You began cutting up various fruits and veggies, as Felix gathered some sweets.

“Make sure to get my favorite cookies!” You reminded him as he piled the plate high with a bunch of his homemade brownies.

“Right,” Felix said as he snapped his fingers, hurriedly searching through the inventory for your favorite chocolate cookies.

You chuckled and began plating the food you just cut up. Satisfied with your work, you walked to your closet, reaching in to pull out your swim suit.

You let out a shriek as Felix wrapped his arms around you and peppered wet kisses on your neck, mumbling at how beautiful you were.

You giggled as you attempted to get away, but to no avail as his hold on you was iron tight.

Felix spun you around before crashing his lips to yours, kissing you passionately as he moaned. You let out a whimper as he nipped at your lip, your core dripping with arousal as you clutched onto his shirt.

But, what were you doing? You both really shouldn’t be doing…whatever this is.

You pulled away suddenly, ignoring the look of shock on Felix’s face. You grabbed your swimsuit and made your way to the bathroom, letting Felix know you’d meet him outside.

Felix stood rooted in place confused, wondering what he did wrong. He always kisses you like this, shows you this type of affection ever since that night of the storm.

Typically you didn’t mind, fully embracing his kisses, cuddles, and teasing. What made you pull back like that?

Felix slowly turned around and began to change, slipping on his swim trunks and tossing his shirt to the side. He went outside and made his way to the hot tub, his mind preoccupied with what just happened.

He lowered himself in the warm water, sighing as he felt his muscles loosen. Shortly after he got in, you came out, slowly making your way to the hot tub.

Felix tried not to ogle at you, at your curves that were accentuated in the swim suit that barely covered anything. He felt his self blush and his cock twitch.

He needed to calm down and not ruin this night. He took a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes, opening them a few moments later feeling renewed.

You placed the snacks down before getting in and sitting next to Felix.

You both sat there in silence, looking anywhere but at each other. Felix traced the bubbles that popped up in the water, his fingers drifting closer to you.

The tension was thick, palpable in the night air. You tried to focus on the bubbles, the way the warm water enveloped your body, but all you could think of was Felix.

Felix with his bubbly self. Felix and how he takes care of you, cooking, cleaning, treating you as if you are the only woman in the world. Felix with his blonde hair that you love to run your fingers through. Felix with the smile that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, your stomach doing flips as he looks at you.

Felix. Felix. Felix. That’s all your life has become since you’ve met him. Normally you wouldn’t care but you realized you were developing feelings for him, which was playing with fire.

You had a soulmate out there and so did Felix and here you both were playing house. You felt the tears form, threatening to spill over any moment as you continued to think of him.

You couldn’t do this. Excusing yourself, you got out of the water and walked back to the house. Felix stared after you, his lower lip trembling.

He’s messed up, big time. You can’t even look at him. He stayed a little longer, his mind racing over the last few months and how things were.

He remembers your sweet smile as he cooks yet another amazing meal for you. He remembers your giggles as he spun you around the room, dancing to the slow song on the radio. He remembers your sweet face as he rained kisses down your face and neck, the sweet sounds you’d make as he nipped at your skin.

Things were perfect and he blew it. Wiping the stray tears that had fallen, he gets up and gathers the untouched plates and carries them to the house.

You left the lights on for him, but you yourself were asleep, buried underneath your layers of blankets. He tidied up as quietly as he could and then changed.

He figured you would want your space tonight, so he made his bed on the couch, somewhere he hasn’t slept in ages. As he lays down and looks at the ceiling, his heart breaks once more, this time because of his own stupidity.

He has to fix this, make things right. And he needs to do it soon.

Things between you two did not improve. It was the middle of spring with the flowers blooming and most days the rain fell from the sky blanketing the world with a chill that went to the bone.

Felix still resided with you, still made your meals, made sure you had everything you needed. He gave you your space, too scared to approach you and here you tell him to leave for good.

You worked long hours, opting to stay at the office then be with Felix in your small house. You figured if he was out of sight, he couldn’t plague you with his puppy dog eyes and sweet pouts as he doted on you.

However, that came to an end when Felix pleaded for you to come back at a decent hour and let him cook for you. You wanted to say no, but then he looked at you with wide eyes, his pink lips in a pout.

As you stared at him, you caved agreeing to his dinner. You tried not to break the facade as he grinned, his eyes sparkling at your acceptance.

You left for work as usual, your mind preoccupied with the little night he had planned for you two. You were nervous, not having spent a night alone with him since…well since that one fated fall night.

You willed the day to go slowly, but of course that was not the case, the end of your shift approaching rather quickly.

To make matters worse, your boss let you off early, thinking they were doing you a service to get your weekend started early.

Grabbing your bags, you made your way home, opting to walk instead of riding in a hover car. Approaching your door, you placed your finger on the scanner, the pad turning green.

You stepped in your apartment, taking in the scent of something delicious being cooked in the kitchen. You kicked off your shoes and padded into the kitchen, watching as Felix scampered around the space, adding finishing touches to the meal.

It took him a while to notice you but once he did he yelped, startled at your presence.

“Y/n!” Felix said as he rushed to your side.

“Welcome home!” He said as he grasped your hand, ushering you to the kitchen. “Sit, sit.”

You sat down and waited as he dished up dinner. You had to admit everything smelled and looked amazing. Felix dished his plate and the sat down.

“Well let’s dig in!” Felix exclaimed as he picked up his fork.

You forked some of the pasta into your mouth, your eyes rolling back at the flavors as they burst on your tongue. You recovered quickly as you continued to shovel food into your mouth. How could you be mad at this man when he cooks like this?

Felix watched from the corner of his eyes, pleased that you enjoyed his meal. He needed tonight to go well. He would reveal it all to you, his purpose, his reason.

Halfway through the meal, he decided to begin, thinking it was as good a time as ever.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

You put your fork down and looked at Felix. Here we go, you thought.

“I want to explain to you why I’m here.” Felix took a deep breath before continuing on. “I’m from the future and if you remembered, my soulmate was actually not mines but someone else’s. The matchmakers proposed I go back in time to find my true soulmate, to start over almost. To find…you.”

Silence rang out through the space, neither of you saying a word.

Felix was your soulmate? Felix is your…

Maybe that’s why it just always felt good, felt right with him. Why you always trusted him.

Felix is your soulmate.

You felt your heart beat, your cheeks flush, as you fumbled with your fingers. You didn’t dare look at Felix, ashamed at how you’ve treated him over the last few months.

Shit. What a mess this is.

“Y/n?” Felix inquired cautiously.

“Sorry. I was just processing everything.”

You truly were, your brain trying to wrap around the fact that you found your soulmate.

“I’m sorry. I just felt like you should know. The timing felt right.”

You nodded agreeing. You got up and started clearing the dishes, your mind reeling with his words. Felix helped you, working silently along you.

After you set the dishes down, you turned and almost bumped into him. You muttered an apology and cautiously looked him in the eye.

Felix stared back at you, his lips parted. You watched as a strand of his hair fell in his face. His beautiful, perfect face. You stood still as he came closer, until he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You both stood there in your kitchen, gazing into each other’s eyes, taking in every detail, of the need and lust hidden behind the orbs.

You held your breath as Felix leaned forward to connect his lips to yours, the feeling so familiar, as if he was welcoming you home.

Your lips moved together softly, gently, neither one of you in a rush. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing the hairs there as he deepened the kiss.

Felix moaned as his tongue met yours, the two appendages tangling together in a passionate dance. He needed more of you. He trailed his hands down your waist, your thighs, tapping the flesh to signal you to jump.

You caught on and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. Felix walked you to your bed, his lips on yours whenever he got the chance.

Right as he got to your bedroom, he tripped over his feet, dropping you in the process. You landed on your back, shocked as Felix tumbled onto the floor.

“Oh my god! Are you ok?” You asked, scrambling to peer over the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine,” Felix responded, his face red in embarrassment.

You chuckled, not believing that just happened. Felix looked at you in shock, his embarrassment increasing so much so his ears turned red.

“Oh come here,” you giggled pulling him on top of you.

You crashed your lips on his, smiling as he immediately reciprocated. You lost yourself in his kisses as his hands wandered your body, trailing his fingertips along your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

Felix moaned as he cupped your breasts, massaging the flesh gently. He could feel his cock swell, straining against the fabric of his boxers. He ground his hips into yours, his bulge nudging your clothed core.

You whimpered at the feel of him, canting your hips up into his, silently begging for more. Felix leaned back and shucked his shirt and sweats off and made his way to you, helping you rid yourself of your clothes.

You laid bare before him, your chest heaving as you panted, your slick leaking out of your pussy.

Felix gazed down at your body, feeling like he was in heaven.

“So beautiful and all mine,” he whispered as he parted your legs to slot himself between them.

He connected his lips to yours once more as he grasped his cock, running it through your folds. You were so wet, your slick coated his length as he teased you over and over.

“Please Lix,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You let out a groan as he slowly pushed in, his cock sending shocks of pain through your core as he stretched you open. You whimpered as he continued to push in, slowly, gently until he was completely inside you, his cock sheathed snuggly in your warm walls.

“Are you ok?” Felix asked, concern laced in his eyes.

You nodded and swiveled your hips, silently begging him to move. Felix grinned before pulling out just to push back in right. Over and over and thrusted into you, the pain transitioning to pleasure as he fucked you.

He watched you with every thrust, not wanting to miss your moans, your little pants, the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit your sweet spot over and over.

“Taking me so well love. God I love you y/n.” Felix groaned as he snapped his hips into yours.

He wasn’t going to last long, not with how you clenched around him, how you whispered his name. He reached down to thumb at your clit, grinning as you let out a squeal at the added pleasure.

“That’s it love, feels good doesn’t it?” Felix teased as he circled the bud, adding more pressure as he dragged his cock within your walls.

You looked up at Felix, how flushed he looked above you as he fucked you, as your walls took him like you were made for him. You felt more arousal gush out of you as you remembered you were made for him.

You were his. He was yours.

And as your mind flooded with that thought, the way his finger thumbed your clit, at how he fucked you just right, your orgasm washed over you causing you to let out a straggled moan.

Your walls clenched around him rhythmically as you came, driving him insane. Felix let out a growl as he stilled his hips against yours, his cum flooding your walls.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, mumbling “you're mine,” again and again.

“I’m yours,” you breathed out as you came down within your lovers arms.

The days passed into summer, each day a treat with Felix by your side. You both have found each other and that was something to celebrate on a daily basis.

Felix showered you with love, waking you up with kisses as he slid between your thighs, making love to you as the sun rose in the sky, bathing you both with its warm light.

He made sure you were well fed, that you wanted for nothing. He peppered you with kisses whenever he could, loving how you would giggle as he kissed your nose, your cheeks, your lips, your neck.

Life was good which is something you haven’t been able to say in a long time. — — You both sat in bed one morning, tangled in each others embrace. As you slid your fingers through his hair, you hummed a little song, happy and content.

Felix lifted his head up and smiled. “What has my love so happy this morning?”

“Hmm maybe you,” you chuckled as you pulled him close.

“Now why is that I wonder,” he teased as he pressed a kiss to your lips and pushed his cock within you.

“Ah Felix!” You groaned as he rocked his hips into yours, slow and gentle as the wind gently blew through your open window.

Felix buried his head in your neck as he brought both of you to your highs, your fingers playing with his hair.

“Y/n, this pussy, your sweet pussy.” Felix moaned as your pussy clenched around him.

“You’re mine!” He growled as he bite into the side of your neck, soothing the area with his tongue afterwards.

“I’m yours!” You whimpered as you came, wrapping your legs around him.

Felix’s hips stuttered as he reached his climax, his seed painting your walls white in the early morning hours.

He collapsed on top of you, steadying his breath as he came down. You both laid there in silence, basking in each other’s afterglow.

“So what happens now?” You asked breaking the silence. “Do I come back with you? To the future?”

Felix thought for a moment. Deep down he knew what he had to do, but he didn’t want to leave you. What if it doesn’t work and he doesn’t see you again in the future?

No, he wasn’t going to take that chance. He would bring you with him.

“Come with me. We can go back together.”

You considered his words for a moment. You didn’t want to part with him, so going with him seemed like the best option.

“Hmmm ok,” you agreed.

“Let’s get dressed and we can go back to the agency and see what we can do.”

You agreed and got up with him. You both showered and got dressed quickly, not wanting to waste any more time.

Felix hailed a hover car and you both got in, directing the driver to go to the agency. Once there, Felix ushered you quickly to the matchmaker’s office, hoping to see Mavis.

He grinned when he saw her, running up to the woman and accidentally startling her.

“Mr. Lee! What are you doing here?”

“I was successful Mavis! I found my soulmate. We’re ready to go back!”

Mavis looked over his shoulder and saw you standing a ways back, swaying back and forth slightly.

“Ah, I can see that,” Mavis said with approval. “Come with me.”

She led both of you to the room Felix was in before, the Time Machine familiar this time around.

“Alright, get in,” Mavis said gesturing towards the glass box.

Felix grabbed your hand and pulled you into the box. Once settled, Felix gave Mavis the thumbs up, signaling you both were ready.

Mavis nodded and pressed a few more buttons, the buzzing sound Felix remembered from last time intensifying.

Felix turned to you and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you gushed as you squeezed his hand.

The air began to ripple, the room began to disintegrate. The air became thin, both of you gasping for breath as a pain hit your stomachs.

Felix closed his eyes briefly as he felt a stabbing pain in his chest. He squeezed your hand in earnest, hoping it would be over soon.

However, time passed and the feeling remained.

Something wasn’t right.

Felix opened his eyes and stared ahead in horror as his eyes took in the vast emptiness. You were still with him, gripping his hand as tight as you could, your face laced with pain.

“Y/n!” He said, wrapping you in his arms.

Felix looked around. You were both in an empty space, nothing was around. No people, no buildings, no trees. Nothing.

He felt like he was going to throw up, the pain in his chest slowly dissipating, but not fast enough.

You both sank to your knees, kneeling on air, clutching each other.

How is this possible? Where are you? Was there a malfunction with the machine?

Felix screamed for help, pleading, begging for anyone to help him. To help you.

But to his horror, no one came to the rescue, both of you trapped in some type of glitch.

Felix held you in his arms, glancing at your beautiful face. At least he had you, his soulmate.

That’s why he went back into he past in the first place right?

To find his soulmate and here you were with him, in his arms.

His soulmate, someone he can love for eternity and you both had eternity now locked in whatever place you were in.

He brushed your hair away from your face, and gazed into your beautiful brown eyes and whispered

“I love you.”

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground

[hadone]

COMEMİXGO - MEGA+ (4)

Welcome to Comemixgo, the ultimate solution for businesses looking to enhance their online presence and connect with a broader audience. In today’s competitive digital landscape, having a reliable platform is essential to stand out and grow your brand. Comemixgo offers an innovative way to expand your reach with its extensive resources, including a comprehensive free company directory and an unlimited company directory option, tailored to meet your unique needs. 

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A free company directory serves as an invaluable resource for individuals and businesses looking for information about various companies without any associated costs. Such directories provide comprehensive listings that include essential details like company names, addresses, phone numbers, and industry classifications. When it comes to navigating vast amounts of company information, a free directory offers users an accessible way to locate the businesses they need swiftly.

Among the numerous platforms available, Comemixgo stands out by offering not only a free company directory but also an unlimited directory option. This flexibility allows users to browse through countless listings for various needs. A free company directory can be particularly beneficial for small businesses and startups, helping them to establish connections and discover potential partners or clients. Additionally, it empowers individuals looking to research companies for employment opportunities, investment prospects, or service providers.

Utilizing a free company directory is straightforward; users can often search by keywords, industries, or geographical locations. This functionality streamlines the process, making it easy to find just the right business. Furthermore, having access to an extensive company directory without the constraints of fees or subscription plans can greatly enhance networking opportunities and resource accessibility for everyone.

Unlimited Company Directory

The Unlimited Company Directory offered by Comemixgo is a comprehensive resource designed to empower businesses by providing unrestricted access to a diverse array of company listings. Unlike standard directories, this feature ensures that users can explore an extensive range of businesses without limitations.

With the Unlimited company directory, users can:

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Utilize advanced search functionalities that allow for filtering based on specific criteria such as location, company size, and industry.

Gain insights into various companies, including contact information, business descriptions, and service offerings.

Bookmark favorite listings for future reference, enabling quick access to key businesses that align with their goals.

This feature not only enhances user experience but also simplifies the process of networking and finding necessary contacts in the business landscape. By utilizing the Unlimited Company Directory, businesses can make informed decisions and foster valuable connections.

Overall, this tool serves as an invaluable asset for anyone looking to thrive in today's competitive market.

Comemixgo

Comemixgo stands out as an essential platform in today’s dynamic business environment, providing both a free company directory and an unlimited company directory. This dual offering ensures that businesses of all sizes can benefit from enhanced visibility and accessibility. Ideal for startups and established enterprises alike, Comemixgo simplifies the process of discovering and connecting with a diverse range of companies.

One of the key features of Comemixgo is its user-friendly interface, allowing users to swiftly navigate through the extensive listings. By leveraging advanced search functionalities, you can easily filter results based on various parameters, ensuring that you find the most relevant companies for your needs. Whether you are looking for potential partners, suppliers, or competitors, Comemixgo makes it easy to access a wealth of information at your fingertips.

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This robust directory is not just about listings; it also emphasizes quality. By vetting and verifying company information, Comemixgo ensures that users can trust the data they access. This commitment to quality makes it a go-to resource for anyone seeking reliable company information in the ever-expanding marketplace.

For those looking to maximize their outreach or explore new avenues for growth, utilizing Comemixgo's resources can prove invaluable. With a focus on providing both a free company directory and an unlimited company directory, businesses can leverage the platform to enhance their visibility and tap into new markets!

[heldhram]

How to run The Sims 3 with DXVK & Reshade (Direct3D 9.0c)

Today I am going to show you guys how to install Reshade and use Direct3D 9.0c (D3D9) instead of Vulkan as rendering API.

This tutorial is based on @nornities and @desiree-uk's awesome guide on "How to use DXVK with The Sims 3", with the goal of increasing compatibility between DXVK and Reshade. For users not interested in using Reshade, you may skip this tutorial.

If you followed nornities and desiree-uk's guide, it is strongly recommended that you start from scratch, meaning you should uninstall DXVK AND Reshade completely. Believe me when I say this: it will save you a lot of time, frustration, and make your life so much easier.

For the purpose of this tutorial, I am on patch 1.69.47 and running EA App on Windows 10, but it should work for version 1.67.2 on Steam and discs, too. This tutorial does not cover GShade.

Before we start

Backup your files, even the entire folder (Program Files\EA Games\The Sims 3\Game\Bin) if you want to be extra safe; you will thank yourself later. If you do not wish to backup the entire folder, at least backup the following:

reshade-presets

reshade-shaders

Reshade.ini

Options.ini (Documents\Electronic Arts\The Sims 3)

Keep them somewhere secure, for your peace of mind (and sanity).

Done? Great stuff, let us begin!

Step 1:

If you installed DXVK following nornite and desiree-uk's guide, go to the bin folder and delete the following files to fully uninstall DXVK, we are starting from scratch:

d3d9.dll

TS3.dxvk-cache

dxvk.conf

TS3_d3d9.log (or TS3W_d3d9.log)

Step 2:

If you already have Reshade on your PC, uninstall it using this: https://reshade.me/downloads/ReShade_Setup_X.X.X.exe (replace X.X.X with version number)

Step 3:

Perform a clean install of Reshade (I am using the latest version - 6.4.1 at the time of writing). Please note that you need a version no older than 4.5.0 or this method will not work. Choose DirectX9, click next.

Once the installation is complete, you should see a "d3d9.dll" file inside The Sims 3's bin folder (Program Files\EA Games\The Sims 3\Game\Bin):

It may all seem familiar thus far. Indeed, this is how we installed Reshade in the past before using DXVK, but here comes the tricky part:

Step 4:

Create a new folder outside of The Sims 3's game folder (I created it on my C drive), name it "dxvk" or whatever else you like. Remember where you saved this folder, we will return to it later.

Step 5:

Now we need Reshade to load the next dll in order to chain Reshade with DXVK. Click on the search bar, and type in "View advanced system settings".

Click on "Environment Variables..."

Under "User variables", click "New..."

In the new pop-up window, find "Variable name:" and type in:

RESHADE_MODULE_PATH_OVERRIDE

for "Variable value:", paste in the directory that leads to the folder we created earlier. Once you are done, hit OK, and then hit OK again to save the changes made.

You can use Command Prompt to check if this new environment variable has been registered by entering:

echo %RESHADE_MODULE_PATH_OVERRIDE%

It should return you the folder's location. If not, make sure you have typed in the variable name correctly and confirm the folder's location.

Step 6:

Download DXVK (version 2.3.1) from here: https://github.com/doitsujin/DXVK/releases/tag/v2.3.1 and unzip "dxvk-2.3.1.tar.gz" (I use 7-Zip, but winRAR works, too). Remember to choose x32, and move only "d3d9.dll" to the folder we made earlier.

Now we have two "d3d9.dll" files, one from Reshade (lives in the bin folder), and the other from DXVK (in this new folder, outside of The Sims 3 game folder).

Step 7:

Download "dxvk.conf" here: https://github.com/doitsujin/dxvk/blob/master/dxvk.conf delete everything inside, and enter the following:

d3d9.textureMemory = 1 d3d9.presentInterval = 1 d3d9.maxFrameRate = 60 dxvk.hud = devinfo

Ctrl + S to save the document.

The first 3 lines are taken from @nornities and @desiree-uk's guide.

The last line is only for debugging purposes. Due to the inconvenient location occupied by the HUD (top left corner of your screen), it should be removed once the installation is successful.

Step 8:

Drag "dxvk.conf" into the bin folder, where Reshade's "d3d9.dll", "TS3.exe", and "TS3W.exe" all live.

Step 9:

Now fire up the game and check if both are showing up:

Lastly, check for “TS3.dxvk-cache” in the bin folder:

If it is there, congratulations! You have successfully installed DXVK and Reshade utilising D3D9 as API! You can now go to "dxvk.conf" and remove its last line "dxvk.hud = devinfo" and have fun! :)

Hope this tutorial isn't too confusing, the last thing I want is to over-complicate things. If you still need some help, comment down below or send me a DM/ask, I'll try and troubleshoot with you to the best of my ability.

Credits:

@nornities and @desiree-uk for their fantastic guide.

@criisolate for promulgating the usage of DXVK in TS3 community.

reddit user folieadeuxmeharder for helping me troubleshoot and informing me of this workaround.

doitsujin for creating DXVK.

crosire for creating Reshade.

[scatter-snz]

Best Laid Plans - Part 3

Details: 11k, M sneezes, no pairing (for this part)

Summary: A secret agent is going undercover for a few days, and his target has a sneeze fetish. When preparing his next move, he finds even the best laid plans go awry.

PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

EVERYONE 🥹💖 Thank you so, so much for your continued support and kindness!!!! 😭 I’m just over the moon that folks are enjoying this and I’ve deeply appreciated all the likes, comments, reblogs, and asks!! I feel like I’ll never be able to say thank you enough times to everyone 😂💕 Please know that I’ve read each and every wonderful word you all have said and those sentiments have given me soul power!!! 💫

This is a fluffy interlude, but it will spice up again in Part 4! 😏 These are original characters, all in their mid twenties to early thirties. Please mind the warnings if anything here might be uncomfy for you.

(Warnings: Unrealistic science, Mess Lite™, getting sneezed on [accidentally, not in detail], questionable coworker dynamics [discussing sexual pleasure in a professional way], humiliation themes [main character gets embarrassed from sexual discussion], micro/macro [it’s a dream], masturbation, being induced by another person [not on purpose], feeling pleasure from sneezing).

THIS STORY IS NSFW!

-

The Wooden Lantern, tomorrow, 6:30pm. 

Omicron knew the place. He’d studied the resort’s directory extensively before they arrived. It was a high class, low-light, white table cloth and well-dressed waiter kind of restaurant. Either Josaline and her husband booked a reservation far in advance or they had the clout to demand one. The backdrop set the tone — extravagant, intimate, an evening of whispered banter. They better not expect me to pay, he thought, weaving around a housekeeper with a cart of towels and sheets. Head office probably won’t foot the bill.

It took longer than planned to pry himself away from Josaline. She was content to lounge for as long as he’d let her, asking him idle questions and tracing shapes on his chest with the tips of her fingers. All the while, she watched his nose. To Omicron it seemed like she was reluctant to miss even a second of his nasal misery, and she was treated to a fair amount of sniffling, sneezing, and nose blowing while they talked. When he finally managed to extricate himself, he surmised his nose was as red as the sunset. The light painted brilliant streaks over the coastline and reduced distant seagulls to silhouettes as they flew over sparkling water. 

And somehow, looking too long at the birds flapping their wings meant he had to sneeze. Bitterly, Omicron tucked a finger beneath his nostrils. They began to flare, anxious as the tickle took flight somewhere in his sinuses. Indulging this in his hotel room was better than the hallway, so Omicron picked up his pace. He could feel the sensation worsen, his nerves trembling, and soon a whole flock of frantic tickles startled into motion.

“-hhHH-” He flipped his hand up over his nose and increased his power walk to a near sprint.

“-gUH!hhh..HHH-” He skidded to his room door and through tears he scanned the keycard, shoved himself inside-

“HHEH’DZZssch!”

“Oh, here he is. He just got back.”

Omicron eased his eyes open long enough to see Agent Delta with his phone to his ear, frowning at him.

“Bless-”

“-IHCHZSSH’oo!” He flattened a hand to his chest, feeling himself breathe and breathe and- “..hah!-CHIZSSH’uh!.. ngghh..”

Omicron groaned and belatedly nosed into his shirt, at this point a decimated, jumbo-sized rag hanging limply from his hand.

“Bless you.” Delta delivered it firmly, and asked in the same tone, “How are you feeling?”

“Whad?” he asked, muffled at first before he lowered the shirt. “I’b fine.”

The senior agent gave him a doubtful once-over, then spoke to whomever was on the phone. “He says he’s fine.”

Muzzily, Omicron looked down at himself. Then sidelong to the closet door mirror. He stood only in his swim trunks, bare from his hips up with hair made wild by hungry hands and a smattering of burgundy lipstick across his throat. Worst was his nose, just as raw and sore looking as it felt. It twitched as he watched, his nostrils slowly stretching wide. His expression collapsed by degrees, jaw slacking, eyelids fluttering, chin tilting, chest lifting in one long breath.

“hhhhhHHH’ADZSSHiew!!” he sneezed, and threw himself a step forward.

Delta sighed. “Bless you.”

Once again Omicron lifted his shirt late and huffed a frustrated sigh of his own. When the tickle came over him, he couldn’t do more than simply sneeze. His days of diligent etiquette were long behind him now. There was a tap on his shoulder and when he looked up, Delta was standing in front of him with a fresh box of unscented, lotion-infused tissues. Omicron could have cried.

“Thag’k you-” he choked, snatching a handful just before he “-hd’ZZSSCH!-guh..”

He transitioned his groan into a strengthless blow of his nose. Even for how little effort he used, the action was productive — more audibly than he would have preferred. At least the tissues didn’t chafe. It took several rounds, Delta patiently holding the box for him, until Omicron’s sniffling was stuffy but dry. The tickle relaxed as much as it ever did, tracing shapes against his membranes. It reminded him of Josaline. By the time he was finished, Delta had traded the box for the room’s little trash bin. 

“Yes, just a moment..” he said into the phone, then tipped the bin expectantly at Omicron. Meekly, he dropped in all his tissues (as well as his shirt, it was a lost cause) as Delta continued. “Let me speak with him first.”

Omicron tried to cobble together some semblance of professionalism. He straightened his spine and folded his hands into a parade rest to deliver his report. “Sir, there is a new development-”

“Apologies, Omicron, that will have to wait,” Delta bulldozed over him. “Something’s come up.”

A prickle of anxiety raised the hairs at the back of his neck. “… Sir?”

“It concerns your condition,” Delta replied, and his faltering loss of eye contact didn’t reassure Omicron in the slightest. “It’s a.. delicate subject, so I’ll leave this to Dr. Voster.”

Omicron closed his eyes in exasperation. He’d forgotten about her. Shit. Delta passed him the phone, and then very conspicuously occupied himself across the room.

Bracing himself, Omicron lifted the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

“Hi, Agent Omicron,” said Dr. Voster in a tinny voice from the receiver. “You’re a hard man to get a hold of lately.”

“Well, I’ve been a bit busy,” he said, then lifted a fist to his nose. Idle as the tickle was, the incessant, gossamer sensation of it was beginning to bother him. “Forgive me if I don’t have time to shoot the breeze.”

“You think I’d come to you for small talk? I’d have better luck with a brick wall.”

“Noted,” he replied as he glanced around for the tissue box. He found it sitting on his bed. “Are you calling to berate me or is there something you want?”

“If you remember from yesterday,” she insisted with unnecessary attitude, “I’m calling to talk about your nose.”

The tickle twinged, perking up like a dog to a whistling call. The rims of his eyes grew wet. His breath hiccuped. “I’d reahh- hly rather not.”

“Too bad, I’ll cut to the chase: are you getting erections when you sneeze?”

Her words pierced him like arrows, followed by the bleed of heat into his cheeks, ears, and neck. Omicron’s hand froze halfway to his face, tissues hovering. She knows, his mind shrieked. She knows. He whipped his head to Delta, who was faffing pointlessly with his suitcase while pretending to ignore the conversation unfolding across the room. And so does he.

“Your silence is telling,” said Anita.

“No.” His mind was static and his mouth was dry. Words wouldn’t flow. “I’m not.. No.”

The lie was so poorly delivered that it wouldn’t have fooled anyone. Sweat slinked down his nape. Dr. Voster blew a breath over the line, sharp and rueful. “Welp. That one’s on me.”

He darted another glance to Delta and caught the man staring just before they simultaneously turned away. Meanwhile, the tickle followed the path of a twitching nerve with a light, curious touch. Hunching his shoulders and scrunching his face, Omicron mumbled into the receiver. 

“What’s that supposed tuhh.. to mean?”

“Your reaction at the lab was extreme, in relation to the vigor of your sneezing as well as the presence of physiological responses indicating arousal,” she explained, her tone appreciably analytic despite the awkward topic. “Dilated pupils, shortness of breath, difficulty concentrating..”

She suspected it from the beginning? Omicron reeled. It made sense; she was impressively educated and one of the most respected techs at the agency. Her knowledge ranged from biology, physiology, immunology, and beyond. In retrospect, he’d been a fool to think he could ever hide something like this from her. 

“Even so, I couldn’t be sure. It warranted further research and I found something unexpected.”

Omicron pushed a hand through his hair, pressing his thumb into the soft indent of his temple. He’d walked in here with a headache and he could tell this conversation would only make it worse. “Oh?”

“It’s a little known fact that parts of the nose contain the same type of erectile tissue as the genitals, and both are linked to the body’s autonomic nervous system.” 

As she spoke, the tickle feathered a persistent, teasing swirl around a sensitive spot. His inflamed membranes pulsed insistently, as did his chapped nostrils. He tried his damned best to ignore it. “... Pardon?”

“I believe because I gave you a higher dose of viral particles than you needed, the overstimulation of your nasal nerves is causing an echoing effect to the erectile tissue in your penis.”

A dangerous emotion lurched up from Omicron’s stomach and got caught behind his teeth: anger. It warred, then mixed, with his humiliation. Exhaustion eroded his willingness to swallow it back down. 

“This is actually not unheard of. Kinks aside, some people experience this during intercourse, or even from simply thinking about sex, though usually the arousal causes sneezing rather than the other way around..”

Anita blathered on about speculative science, and the bubbling pot of annoyance he’d nursed since the start of this assignment at last began to boil over. Frustration erupted into rage.

“..Still, it’s a variable I completely overlooked. I’m sorry, Omicron.”

“Sorry?” he barked, raising his volume to a throat-scratching degree. “You’re sorry? Are you serious?”

There was a pause over the line. “.. Yes?”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it.” The ardor in his voice vibrated in his sinuses, heightening the caressing sensations of the tickle, which only angered him more. “Yhh-You told me I wouldn’t b-be comprhhuh-.. hhmised by your stupid experiment!”

“That was before I saw its effects in action. I advised you not to go forward with the mission, remember? I only agreed in front of Delta because you looked so sad. It was foolish on my part. I should’ve grounded you.”

“So that I could suffer for your mbistake??” he demanded. His nostrils shivered and he shoved them with the heel of his palm. Congestion clogged his words. “I’ve waited so long for this mbission, Anita, you kdnow I have!”

“It wasn’t my intention to compromise you, Omicron,” and while she said it with contrition, there was also resignation. “I can’t predict every outcome. It’s just one of those things.”

The pragmatism in her voice only fueled his fire, but before he could assemble his response, the tickle struck. Even in the throes of wrath it wouldn’t leave him be. Its touch seeped through his nose like a spill. His lungs jumped with a single breath, and then Omicron’s head snapped down. 

“DDJZSSsh’oo!”

The sneeze staggered him two steps back and another was fast on the rise. It held him hostage in its grip, but Anita’s curt “bless you” in his ear waylaid the urge. He fulcrumed a finger beneath his nose to buy time. Emotion roared up from his chest and broke out of him in a rambling crash. 

“I get one chandce! One. To prove mbyself and if I fail they’re gonna relegate mbe to archives and filing duties for the rest of mby career!!”

He was peripherally aware of Delta, who’d at some point moved to stand in front of him. There was something in his hand, a gadget Omicron recognized but couldn’t think to name. His vision tunneled, dark at the edges. His heart pounded in his ears. His nose twitched ominously, not to be delayed much longer. 

“I c-.. hhhan’dt lose this case,” he was babbling, quicker and quicker when his nostrils began to flare. The burgeoning sneeze tugged his eyelids shut and stole his breath away. “It’ll- it.. iyeehh…h-HH!hck’KZSShiu!”

Dr. Voster took the opportunity to cut in; she sounded deliberately calm as he sniffled fitfully through a recovery. “Omicron, listen to me, you’re catastrophizing. Slow down for a second and breathe.”

“Ndo, you listen!” His voice cracked and an ugly desperation made itself known. “They’ll really do it, if I’b ndot perfect they’ll write mbe off a’d I’ll end up a cautionary tale, they’ll laugh mbe out of the agency, everythi’g I’ve worked for will be for dnothi’g, I-”

Glowing numbers flashed in front of his eyes. Omicron startled, teetering unevenly on his feet. At first he had no idea what it was, but as his vision steadied the image formed. Delta stood before him, grim, offering the readout screen of an infrared thermometer.

The numbers read 102.4°F / 39.1°C . Omicron squinted at them, uncomprehending.

“... what’s thad?” he rasped.

Delta’s reply was immediate and immutable. “Your fever.”

Omicron blinked. Squinted harder. Read the numbers again even as they started to blur. I have a fever? he asked himself. As his fury ebbed, new sensations emerged: the painful heat radiating from his head, a pervasive chill seeping from his core, the weakness in his knees and the cotton in his ears. He began listing to the side. The phone slipped from his hand.

Oh, he realized. I have a fever.

“Oop!” Delta dashed and caught him before he could swoon to the floor. Together they sank in a controlled descent as the senior agent muttered, “Easy now, easy..” under his breath. Once they were down, Omicron tucked his head into his knees and tried to fend off the headrush.

Indistinct voices floated around him. He could only catch snippets of conversation — “high grade temperature,” and “want you here by morning” — and he gave up on the rest. Instead, he concentrated on the bracing passes of Delta’s broad hand across the span of his sweaty shoulders. It took longer than he liked, but eventually Omicron raised his head with minimal dizziness. He stared into the weave of the carpet.

“Did she hang up?”

“Yes,” Delta said beside him. “She gave me a list of questions to ask you when you’re feeling a bit better.”

Omicron dropped his head back to his knees. “... is she upset?”

“At your outburst?” Delta asked, and his subordinate cringed. “She’s more worried about you than upset, but you wouldn’t be remiss to apologize when she arrives.”

In the aftermath of his tantrum, clarity pricked him like a thorn. This was as much his fault as it was Anita’s. It was true her virus yielded unexpected results, but by concealing them from her, he’d failed in his responsibility as a teammate. She put her trust in him, and he let her down. There were few things more painful for him than owning his mistakes.

Stewing in his shame, he sniffled and said the only thing he could say. “I’b sorry, sir.”

Delta’s smile grew warm at the edges. “I’m not the one you shouted at, but I’ll accept your apology since you lied to me too.”

God, he wished the ground would just swallow him whole. Omicron folded into an even smaller ball, arms tightening around his shins. The position made his nose run, which required frequent snuffling for maintenance, but he’d rather do that than look Delta in the eye.

“I expect honesty from you, agent. Full stop. Not a single lie moving forward, either directly or by omission. Am I understood?”

Omicron could barely force himself above a whisper. “Yes, sir.”

“Not just about the virus,” his superior continued, “but also your wellbeing. You’ve put so much pressure on yourself, Omicron. I had no idea you were under the impression that this assignment would be your only chance to succeed.”

Without anger as a shield, he’d lost his last defense. Delta’s sympathy felt like a punch in the gut. Even worse, his near constant sniffles were going to make him sneeze. He keenly felt each bead of moisture drip down his stressed passages, then skate back up with every subsequent snatch of air. It was unabating, alluring, and it coaxed little sighs from his lip when he exhaled. He didn’t have to wait long.

“..hh’MMPHssh!!Huh..” Omicron muffled it into his knees, his entire body trembling. Then he hurried to respond before he could be blessed. “-but it’s true, righd?”

“Come again?” Delta asked, and when Omicron spoke it again with more volume, he could hear Delta’s brow furrow just from the way he replied, “No, it’s not true at all. Did someone tell you differently?”

With reluctance, Omicron lifted his head and confirmed with a stuffy mumble. “.. Agent Rho did.”

“Rho!” Delta scoffed, as if he could scold the agent from here. His voice lowered to a grumble, and that told Omicron exactly how Delta felt about Rho. “Don’t listen to them. They enjoy scaring less experienced agents.”

(Here Omicron swore a silent, seething vow that he would exact calculated revenge upon Agent Rho for their transgressions against him. Delta continued, oblivious.)

“A reprehensible practice, but between you and I, head office rarely entertains my complaints on the matter.”

Head office… Fuzzy worries came into focus as Omicron muddled through another lazy, slow-to-arrive sneeze. The fog of it clouded his expression as he tried in vain to soldier on.

“Are you goi’g t-.. hih’KIZSsh!” he bobbed his head, then slitted his eyes open only for them to flutter closed again. “..ehKZSSh’uh!... mmbgh..” 

“Bless you,” said Delta, watching Omicron cup a hand over his nose. “Here, use these.”

Delta held out the tissue box, still half-full with soft paper, and Omicron plucked out several. His breath hitched high, voice heady, as he attempted to relay gratitude. 

“Th-hhah.. ah’NKZSSS’hoo!” He crushed it into the tissues, and then flushed with a fresh layer of chagrin when Delta chuckled.

“Bless you, Omicron, you’re welcome.” He waited for the nose blowing to stop before he continued. “You were saying?... ‘Am I going to’ what?”

Oh, right, his question.. With fever, congestion, and the pledge of sneezes crowding his head, holding onto a thought longer than a few seconds felt next to impossible. “Are you going to ground me?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Delta replied. “Considering your condition, I should say yes, but I’d like Dr. Voster’s opinion first. You’re making progress on this case and I’d hate to halt your momentum prematurely.”

That was fair. Uncontrollable boners and a fever on active duty would probably dissuade any overseeing officer from adapting a ‘push through’ mentality. Especially Delta, since the man had the most heavily bleeding heart Omicron had ever known. It would be up to Anita, then; he couldn’t muster the energy to fret about it right now. They sat together while Omicron tended to his fidgety nose, still side by side on the floor, until Delta made a sound of recollection.

“Speaking of the case, didn’t you mention a development? I interrupted you earlier. What was it you wanted to tell me?”

Ahhhh, dammit, Omicron lamented. I forgot about that too.

Even before Anita threw her wrench, he hadn’t been sure how his date tomorrow would go over with Delta. He’d had plans of carefully breaking the news, laying out the variables and working gradually to the big reveal. But now he could barely remember the basic idea, let alone complex and eloquent details. Wracking his boiling brain did nothing but cost him his opportunity; the meandering tickle of his cold stumbled yet again on sensitive territory.

“-Hah…” It lured a dreading sound from his lips as the urge niggled him. Hadn’t he sneezed enough? His count had to be over a hundred by now, and yet his nose wasn’t satisfied. Overworked as they were, his nasal nerves were as ceaseless in their goals as the virus was. “..hiH-.. ngh..”

Omicron cut his losses. Either he ripped the bandaid off or wasted another ten minutes sneezing while his cold tickled him senseless. He took a moment to steady his breathing before saying, “...She has a hus’BEHSsh’oo!”

It startled them both, barreling out of him freely and with an unfortunate lack of cover. Delta flinched away, visibly caught in the crossfire, and Omicron panicked. Both hands jerked up to cover his nose as a whiplash of shame froze him to the bone. 

“Fuck, I’b so siihH-” Oh god, again? His breath wavered at the top of his throat, almost a whimper, and he was so discombobulated from the first one that he couldn’t prepare for the second. “-ih’GXCHHT!”

It ran roughshod, mostly through his nose, and it scraped his sinuses on the way out. Very unpleasant, but fortunately the tickle had to play second fiddle to the stinging aftermath. Omicron hitched down from the high, hands still cemented to his face for modesty and eyelashes sticking with tears as he threw a glance to his superior.

“b’sorry!” he eked out, and he must have looked truly miserable because Delta’s eyes widened.

“It’s alright, it’s alright!” he said earnestly, with a shake of his head and a consoling pat to Omicron’s back. “I’m not upset, I know that was an accident. Don’t worry about it, hm? Here..”

He fished up the tissue box in offering before politely turning away as Omicron cleaned himself up. The mortification nearly crushed him, but still the junior agent reeled with relief. He could trust his superior at his word that he wasn’t upset; it just wasn’t in Delta’s nature to lie, unless it was for his cover. It took nearly the rest of the box before Omicron deemed himself decent, and even then he pinned a preemptive bushel of tissues around his nose in case another sneeze got away from him. Delta was looking at him with such effusive compassion that Omicron delivered his news without preamble, desperate to change the subject.

“I got invited to a threesome with Josaline and her secret husband,” he said from behind his hands.

Agent Delta was gobsmacked. “Wh- Josaline Jewel has a husband?”

Omicron nodded.

“We have no intel to suggest that at all. Are you sure?”

Omicron nodded again.

There was a bewildered pause, then an even more disbelieving, “And you’ve scheduled a threesome with them?”

For a third time Omicron nodded, bleary-eyed over the edge of his tissues. Beneath his hands, his nostrils spasmed around the shape of a sluggish itch. It stalled out somewhere in his sinuses, too present to dismiss but not yet committed to climax. Don’t tease me, he begged with a slow blink. Either hurry up or go away.

“Omicron,” Delta said, a note of wonder in his voice. “I knew you were talented, but this exceeds expectations. Particularly with the knowledge that you did this while contending with unforeseen complications. Well done.”

His heart fluttered weakly at the praise and Omicron squashed any pleased feelings that arose from it. There would be nothing to celebrate if he couldn’t finish the job.

“Th.. hhagk you, sir.”

“When are you meeting them?”

“T-.. Tihh-..” As he spoke the tickle squiggled like a banner caught in a breeze. He rushed the rest on an exhale — “..t-t’mborrow nhhigh..” — heaved in a huge breath, and then- “IDTZSSH’hoo!!”

“Bless, tomorrow night, hm..” Delta rushed the blessing as well, rubbing his chin with a long sigh. “This does complicate things. I doubt we’ll get a chance like this again, but I’m not granting clearance until Dr. Voster takes a look at you-”

“ht-.. HD’JZSS!uuh..”

“-bless you, because that fever of yours concerns me. That side effect wasn’t listed in the literature and it surprised her to hear that you’ve developed one-”

“.. eh-.. eH’TSCHHOO!”

“-bless you. So better safe than sorry. Your health and safety takes priority over any assignment, Omicron, do try and remember tha-.. oh, bless…?”

“.. h-HDT-!”

Omicron waiting on the cusp of another, eyes rolled skyward and lips parted in desire, still cloaked behind his curtain of tissues. He could feel he had Delta’s undivided attention, which made the tickle shy. It shivered inside him, sending his nostrils into a fit of flaring. Stuttered breaths filled his lungs in tiny bursts, emptying again on uneasy sighs, and he-.. he-!..

.. relaxed, defeated, with a groan. 

“Lost it?” Delta asked, then quirked a smile at Omicron’s moody nose-blow. “I’m sure it’s very disappointing. My condolences.”

Because Delta was being very gracious about all this — Omicron’s dishonesty and careless sneezing — he couldn’t summon up any feelings of exasperation. It helped that he was running on empty, too enervated by his fever to do much more than slump with a nod that made his head gently spin. He waited it out and only when he startled to awareness at a gentle touch on his arm did he realize he’d been falling asleep where he sat. He squinted up at Delta who was now standing, smiling down at him.

“Dr. Voster asked me to collect more data on your condition, but that can wait,” he said, and hauled Omicron to his feet. He guided the smaller man toward the bright fluorescence of their hotel bathroom. “Why don’t you wash up? It might help.”

Too dazed to protest, Omicron stood shivering barefoot on the cold tile in his swim trunks while Delta babbled about this and that. A couple blinks later he was holding a set of sweats from his suitcase, his toiletry bag, and a clean pair of fuzzy socks that wasn’t his. Probably Delta’s. He’d seen the man wear a different pair around the room just last night. Juggling the items and mumbling thank-yous, he nudged the door shut with his foot as Delta stated he’d be going out to grab dinner.

And thus commenced his character assassination. 

Omicron laid to rest and mourned what remained of his dignity. He was, in essence, sick on the job with an unseemly cold and his boss was playing nurse. In other words, a nightmare. Never had any of his coworkers seen him T less than peak health, and he hadn’t bargained on Anita’s monster virus turning him into… this. As he shambled through a shower, pajamas, and then curled up into bed, he hoped in vain that his fever would be bad enough to knock him out before Delta got back. No such luck.

Omicron knew how he could look, especially with fresh, fluffy bedhead and sleeves that drooped over his hands. He could only assume this aesthetic was exacerbated by his glowing red nose and glassy eyes. ‘Cute’ was a moniker he’d take to his grave unfortunately, much as it haunted him. He’d never managed to escape it in any disguise, not for all the leather, fake piercings, or platform boots in the world. 

So when Agent Delta turned around and caught sight of him, snuggled in a poofy duvet clutching the tissue box with a little twitch troubling his nose, Omicron beat him to the punch. “Please don’t patronize me, sir.”

Delta’s smile threatened laughter, but he reigned it in with a polite cough and clear of his throat. “I wasn’t going to, agent. I’m just glad to see you’re more comfortable.”

‘Comfortable’ was a generous word that only got further from the truth as the night wore on. Omicron was treated to dinner in bed, complete with a serving tray borrowed from the staff, and the gesture was enough to obliterate any shred of appetite he had for the hot and sour soup Delta brought him. He just wanted to dissolve into the atmosphere and disappear. What he did manage to eat sprung tears in his eyes and a menacing prickle in his clogged sinuses. He spent most of the meal with a tissue held to flexing, leaky nostrils.

The conversation after dinner was yet another exercise in torture. Omicron would have tried choking down more soup if he’d remembered Delta had orders from Anita to question him about his ‘condition.’

Rationally, Omicron knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed. He had sex on the job now and then, and those wild whims he pursued on his personal time were a cure for boredom more than anything. There was something different about this though, the pleasure he felt from sneezing. It felt intimate, self-generated, and to some extent outside of his control. That he might accidentally get aroused without a purpose, beyond that it simply just felt good, was a thought he couldn’t bare to share with anyone. 

“I find it endearing that you are so bashful about this, considering your line of work,” Delta said, understanding yet undeterred, “but as this pertains directly to your ability to perform on the job, I’m afraid Voster and I are on a need to know basis. I promise it will be quick and painless.”

The unyielding furrow in Delta’s brow told Omicron he wouldn’t escape this discussion, no matter how badly he wanted to avoid it. Maybe by some miracle he’d black out and not remember it after.

Once they got started, the questions were mercifully clinical: How often are you experiencing unexpected symptoms? Under what circumstances do they arise? Are you experiencing any unexpected symptoms beyond those already identified? And so on. All the while, Omicron dissuaded sneezes with nose rubs, nose blows, and general nose abuse of that nature. Each ticklish surge that scrambled for a foothold he countered with equal obstinacy. Nothing he did would rid him of the itch, so there was no reason to indulge it.

Yes there is, said the steady drip of tension into his abdomen. Feel that? It was a formless need, faint enough to ignore. For now. Given time the drip would form a puddle, then a pond, and eventually an ocean of want churning in the core of him. And it will feel so good to let go. 

Omicron resolutely ignored that feeling. 

When they finished with the questions, he didn’t even realize it was over; he dozed off while Delta prattled on too long about meaningless things, his voice soothing in its familiarity, and awoke with a start minutes or hours later from a soft touch on his elbow. Just Delta, whispering something about acetaminophen, offering pills and a glass of water which Omicron tossed back wordlessly before hurtling headfirst back into sleep.

He surfaced in and out of consciousness throughout the night, plagued by chills, sweats, and the strange dreams only a fever can cook up. Vivid, nonsensical adventures that ranged from confusing to harrowing, until Omicron eventually found himself spelunking. How he ended up in this damp, drippy cavern eluded him, but he remained committed to his single directive: explore. 

It was an odd place, even in a dream. Rather than rough-hewn stone, Omicron walked barefoot on a soft, plush surface that spanned the walls and even the ceiling. Caves were usually quite chilly, but this one was comfortably warm. Steady breezes cut through the humidity, first blowing one way and then the other, ruffling Omicron’s hair at each pass. He staggered when a particularly strong gust dragged him like an undertow and leaned against the wall to keep his balance. This immediately backfired because the wall was unexpectedly slick. With a frictionless glide, he tumbled to the ground.

“Sheesh,” he muttered, planting his palms to push himself up. When he did so, there was a near imperceptible shudder through the cavern. The rhythmic wind stuttered, stopped, then continued with an unsteady edge. He raised arm against a blast of air. “What-..?”

A light caught his eye, and Omicron glanced down to find a nexus of thrumming veins spidering out from his epicenter. They pulsed with a beautiful glow, casting a red hue across his face and illuminating the cave floor with a pink, stained glass iridescence. Curious, he trailed his fingers along the branching paths and watched the veins spread further. Again the cave floor lurched, stronger this time, and the wind around him escalated into trembling, intermittent squalls. For some reason he didn’t feel afraid, only determined.

Omicron clamored to his feet. He approached the wall where the veins began to climb. They pulsed weakly, wanting, and he felt that he needed to help them. Feeling around on his person, he unearthed something from his back pocket: a feather duster. The feathers waved in the strong breeze, plentiful and downy. How he’d managed to fit this in his pocket was dream logic he didn’t question. 

“Let’s see,” he mumbled, and crouched to sweep the instrument along the wall. It seemed to cringe from the sensation, twitching madly as the veins hungrily advanced. 

Omicron kept it up, dusting as much as he could reach even as the cavern began to shiver in earnest and the wind whipped his hair like a storm. But he couldn’t stop. He just had this feeling that if he lit the cavern completely, it would be a magnificent sight. As the paths flourished, they brought with them a gorgeous backlight to the tender, rose-petal surfaces of the cave. Funny, they looked almost inflamed. Irritated by his influence, intolerant of his presence here. The thoughts didn’t deter him. Omicron raised up on his tiptoes to take a swipe at the ceiling and had his feet knocked out from under him when the world tremored in response. The gale sucked inward with authority, and the feather duster was ripped from his hands.

Something was happening. Around him, the veins fanned out on their own and he’d been right: the radiance of the cavern was incredible with it all lit up at once. Beneath him the ground throbbed contentiously, convulsing, hot to the touch, and for the first time, Omicron wondered if he might have done something he shouldn’t have. No longer distracted by his goal, he became aware of a weird sound. Something deep, rumbling beneath him, the desirous moans of uhh.. uHhh.. uHHh-!... growing in volume, pitch, and power. 

And suddenly, he felt the echo of this urge manifest in his nose. Its vigor sprung tears to his eyes and his jaw dropped open, helpless as it consumed him. His gasps and groans synced up to the wild chaos around him, and he could feel the very nerves he squirmed against crying out for mercy. It tickled insufferably, teased to heights he couldn’t believe — and there was only one way down.

I’m inside my own nose? was his first bizarre realization. The second was, I’m going to sneeze.

Omicron opened his eyes, only to snap them closed again. “-HP’BBSZZCHHHOOO!!!-”

He groaned, arching against the mattress, as the sneeze went straight to his dick. Bleary, barely awake, all he could do was coast through a yearning gasp and “HEEHDZJJSSSZH!Nnngghh-!”

Raw relief tingled through him, shimmering through his nose and groin, and autopilot took over. Omicron plunged a hand down his pants and gripped his morning wood, firm and ready to burst. There was enough precum trickling from his slit and staining his boxers that he could smooth his thumb over the head and ignore the slight burn from dry skin friction.

His nostrils flittered in anguish, and his sinuses drummed with an insatiable itch. Please, they implored him. This tickle tortured us all night long. Do something. And Omicron was happy to serve. 

A monumental gasp - “hHHHHIIH!” - heralded an comparatively monstrous sneeze - “EEHDDZZZCHHH’Uh!!-hoohhh..”

This was so much better in bed. A tidal wave of pleasure rushed through him, from his nose to his toes, and he couldn’t catch his breath. He gritted his teeth, bowing his back as he thrust into the grip of his hand. It was just on the edge of too much; Omicron wasn’t normally so sensitive, but he’d woken with every inch of his skin tingling and thought it had to be the fever. 

The tickle flexed deep inside, and Omicron recalled the striking visuals of his dream. Wet, pink walls. Encroaching red veins. Sensitive nerves, shuddery membranes, the way he’d ignorantly worked himself up to this very fit with a bundle of soft, stroking feathers. He could imagine himself doing it again, deliberately this time, sweeping the inside of his nose deftly and thoroughly, tickling and tickling and fighting to keep his eyes open even as the sensation forced them tightly closed. Coaxing a hitching breath. Making him sn-..

“-hoh fuhhck-.. hh!HUH!. UHHZZSSSHH’iu!-ooh!” His heels slipped on the sheets, straining for purchase, as he panted his way up to another. “-igih.. iH’GISSCCHOOO!-hah!!”

Each one got him an inch closer to orgasm. He bobbed over every wave with surety the next one would break over his head and drown him. Omicron snuffled unsteadily, aware his nose was running without the care to wipe it, and began twisting his wrist when he felt his nostrils blow wide in preparation. 

Yes yes yes, he cheered. Let this be the one.

He hitched through a dazed smile, a deceptively dainty hh-hht-htt! that then curled him up with a bed-shaking, “HAH’TSSDCH’UE!..hh’mmngg-!..” 

Omicron’s whole body clenched, tense with the impending release, but before it could come he was hitching again. His dream self dusted away, dauntless with a single-mindedness to make him sneeze. And he’d assuredly succeed, as his real self shuddered through a fit-and-start buildup.

“-hihg..ihh!hhoh.. HHT-!chhhoo..” 

It wouldn’t come, hovering so close to the brink that whenever he breathed into the tickle he sighed out the approximation of its finale. His hand never stopped, the steady pumps easier now that he was wet enough. Through the haze of fever, grogginess, and arousal, Omicron imagined the dutiful brush of that duster against his quivering membranes. He was a thorough man, never one to leave a job half-finished, and he visualized himself venturing deeper, farther, to a cowering patch of nerves hoping to escape torment. The feathers caressed them, velutinous and inviting.

“.. iih!HHhhh..”

Deeper, to the responsive edge of his sinuses, where he trailed the duster along the border with deliberate care. The tickle’s magnitude tripled, aching in its eagerness. His dick pulsed in reply, hot and heavy in his frantic hand. 

“-HIH!..hh..hgIHH-”

Deeper still, to the end of the line, so far inside his nose he’d never hope to get it out. The feathers touched quivering flesh. With a smirk, his dream self stroked so gently, agonizingly slow, barely a tease and yet it tickled him to an unbearable degree. He could feel every fiber of the agitating feathers, the promise they whispered. 

Come on, he said to himself. You know you want to.

Omicron’s gasp cut the air like a knife, inflating his lungs to capacity, before he roared violently into his blankets. “-iihHHHHH-?!..WRRIZZSSSCHH’IIUHHH!!-mmbb!!”

He turned his head into his pillow to moan through his orgasm, stroking through it as a euphoric, tingling balm spread through his sinuses. It lasted longer than he anticipated, a continuous ripple of ecstasy that had him whimpering, panting, trembling. All his muscles relaxed, every part of him sated, and when the aftershocks ebbed Omicron sunk into the sheets, hand still in his pants, to let sleep call him back into its arms. It’s not like he had somewhere to be. What did he have to do this morning..? Vacuum the apartment..? Get groceries..? Cuddle with his cats?.............wait-

OH NO.

Omicron jackknifed into a sitting position, then immediately regretted it when his head spun. He drooped onto an elbow, coughing, heart hammering, and in a panic he scanned the room. Nobody here. No sounds from the bathroom either. The relief was so intense it sent him into another sickening dose of dizziness. He flopped flat to the mattress and tried to steady his breathing.

I didn’t just jack off in front of my superior officer, he assured himself. Everything is fine. He finally slipped his hand out of his pants and wrinkled his sore nose at the stickiness of his skin and underwear. But I have to clean up.

It took a pitifully long time to do so. Shivers wracked him the moment he crawled out of bed, and every step was a wobbly gamble. He forgot spare clothes and had to backtrack, then couldn’t figure out how to clean up without taking a shower he didn’t have the energy for. All the while his head pounded, his throat stung, and eventually the whims of the virus brought him to the brink of feeble, fallout sneezes.

Finally, with his dirty clothes stuffed into the bottom of his suitcase and most of the sweat wiped off his skin, Omicron zombied his way back to the bed and collapsed face down. Some flailing got him purchase on the sheets, mercifully spared from most of his fluids, and at last he was horizontal. Of course the position dutched the congestion to a new angle. It tickled him.

Omicron huffed weakly, wearily, and  ducked under the cover of his blankets. “-iih’KIZSSH!’iuh…” Only the one. He sighed, rubbing the edge of his sheet beneath his fussy nose. Now, maybe he could just….

From the door there was the sound of a keycard clattering, then the latch lifting, and a boisterous pair of voices entered the room. “Honey, I’m home!”

Omicron buried his head under the blankets.

“Anita, he may not be awake..” That one was Delta. “Shouldn’t he rest?”

“The sooner I examine him, the better. Where-?.. ah! There you are.”

Omicron tightened his grip on the blankets, and was right to do so because seconds later there was a tug from the outside. It was hot and stuffy under the covers, hard to breathe, but he’d rather suffocate than deal with Anita Voster right now. She tugged again and he didn’t budge.

“Oho?” she tittered. “Trying to avoid treatment, mm? You should know better, Agent O.”

He remained tense, blinking weakly against a flutterish niggle. His nostrils flared, nervous, and he would have soothed them with a touch of his finger if his hands weren’t occupied. He scrunched his nose instead, squirming it side to side when the tickle didn’t abate. Dr. Voster was on the move, he’d lost track of her-...

“Anddd.. voila!”

Cold air and light entered his cocoon. She’d rounded the bed and flipped the covers up from the back side, which was a dirty move. A chill swept up his spine, prompting a shudder that shivered into a sneeze. 

“h-hhi’hHTSSsh!-hh..” He flinched his knees to his chest, tucking an arm around himself as he threw the other behind him for the covers. “Gih-..ig’IIZSSH!”

“Bless bless you,” she cooed in a playful tone that made him bristle. Her hand cupped his shoulder and pulled. “Now, let me see… oh.”

Her smile dropped away as she looked at him, lips parting in genuine surprise, her manicured eyebrows marching up toward her hairline. She was wearing an obnoxious summery ensemble, no doubt excited to exploit the mission for a few days at the beach. When no reply was forthcoming, Omicron glared at her. The ferocity of it was undercut when a twinge in his nose prompted a squeaky sniffle.

“.. Whad?” he croaked.

“You’ve never looked so pathetic before,” she said in wonder. “And I’ve seen you faint after getting a vaccine booster.”

It was an open secret that he hated injections as much as he hated the dentist, but everyone kindly agreed not to acknowledge it after that one time. He growled his words, snatching the blankets back from her. “The ndeedle was really big and you said you’d dnever mbendtion it againd.”

“Voster,” chided Delta, hands on his hips. “Please refrain from teasing him when he’s not feeling well. He’s under enough stress as it is.”

As infantilizing as it was as a grown man to have another grown man scold somebody on his behalf, Omicron shot her a smug look that she met with an arched brow. 

“Fine,” she sighed, and crossed to his side of the bed. “I guess I’ll cut him some slack. Omicron, sit up a little.”

There would be no getting out of this. Delaying the process would probably get him another lecture from Delta, so Omicron reluctantly shimmied to a half-reclining position, arms crossed to ward off chills as she sat gracefully on his bedside. She crossed a leg at the knee, reached for his face, and cool hands cradled his jaw. He let her move him as she wanted, wrinkling and wriggling his nose to keep it appeased. 

The sly bullying he expected didn’t come. Dr. Voster was professional when she asked, “Any fluctuations in symptoms since last night?”

“Umb.. ndot really..” Omicron sniffed sharply and swallowed. He considered leaving it there, but his promise to Delta wouldn’t let him. He mumbled through the rest and could only hope she understood what it meant. “.. there was an.. idncident this mborning. That I resolved.”

“Gotcha,” she said, and didn’t press. Omicron relaxed under her handling. She took his temperature (101.3°F / 38.5°C), tested his glands, pulled down the edges of his eyelids, and then at last took a cursory glance up his nostrils with a wince. “I didn’t think it was possible to see a sneeze but the inside of your nose looks like one.”

Apt, since he could feel it forming between his eyes. He leaned away out of her grip, and without any tissues in reach, Omicron shook his sleeves over his hands and tucked into them. “hh!MMPSSH!..” 

“Bless you,” chorused the other two. 

He surfaced briefly as the tickle toyed with him, playing his nerves like batons on a xylophone. Every note vibrated, compounding in harmony, cacophonous as it crested, “..aak’KZSCHue!.. hh?..hh..”

“Bless you,” chorused the other two, again. Anita passed over the tissue box but he could barely keep his eyes open and his breath from shaking. She took pity on him as his hitches became jagged, pitching in his upper register, and she held out a few in his direction just as he- heeee-!

“-ick’SSHIEW?!”

It relieved him, but his shoulders flinched to his ears at the embarrassingly high sound. Delta quickly turned away with a hand to his mouth and Dr. Voster snorted unabashedly.

“Bless yew!” she parroted, and he kicked her off the bed. She rolled with the momentum into a smooth dismount before plopping right back where she’d been. “I’m done, I’m done! But you owe me a couple free jabs after yelling at me yesterday, you know.”

Right. His stomach soured at the reminder, and he stared at the blankets with a sleeved swipe under his septum. “.. I’mb sorry about that. I shouldn’d have taken out my frustration on you. Or lied to you in the first place.”

Dr. Voster softened, the lines of her face smoothing into something genuine. “Mm, I’m sorry for my sloppy science. It’s my fault you’ve got such a lousy cold.” 

Omicron never knew what to say after such sentiments. He considered and tossed out several replies, still boring holes into the blankets with his gaze, until she reached up and flicked the tip of his nose. His inhale was a hitch into the next before he flinched down toward his chest. 

“h-h-H’TZssh!” He brought a sleeve to his nose belatedly, throwing a scowl her way. “Whad was that for?!”

“For lying to me about that other thing,” she said, leering over him with a grin. “... Seems like you really are the man-cold type.”

Omicron hurled his pillow at her, which she dodged and Delta caught one-handed when it soared across the room. His firm voice broke up a squabble before it could begin. “Enough, you two.” He fluffed the pillow and returned it to his sheepish subordinate before looking to Anita. “Well?”

“Either his immune system is reacting to the engineered virus, or somehow he’s caught another cold on top of this one,” she said. Both looked to Omicron, who was trying to blow his nose without popping an eardrum. “If it’s the former, the mission can proceed. If it’s the latter, we bench him. That’s my opinion as his physician.”

“I’b righd here,” Omicron grumbled behind a mask of tissues.

Delta ignored him. “How do we know which is the case?”

Dr. Voster reached for the medical bag on the floor by her feet, which Omicron only just now noticed was in her possession. “By administering a test,” she replied, digging through it. When she found what she sought, Anita presented it to Omicron with an apologetic smile. “You’re not going to like it though.”

He thought it was a syringe at first. Before he could react, she peeled open the thin package to show him what was inside. Somehow, it was worse. Delta hissed through his teeth and Omicron hovered a protective hand over his nose.

“No,” he told her, eyes glued to the offending object. “No, no. That’s not going to work.”

Dr. Voster twirled it between her fingers: a wickedly long plastic rod with a cotton tuft on the end. “A nasal swab is the fastest way, O.”

He shook his head, unable to look away from it. The sight alone caused his nose grief as the tickle found inspiration. Omicron did his best not to imagine how it would feel. “Anita, it’s not possible. I-.. I can’t evehhn.. look at- at it withhou..HH!with.. withhHHAH-”

Omicron jammed a finger beneath his nose and shoved the sneeze back inside. He could tell he’d be on a roll if he started, and while he’d literally just cum he was terrified this impending volley would get him going again. If at all possible, even if everyone was aware of the situation, he’d like to avoid erections in front of his fucking coworkers. He held his breath and waited until his pulsing nostrils quieted before letting it all go on a sigh. Pointedly, he avoided looking at the swab.

“Hmmmm,” Dr. Voster mused. “I wonder if we blindfolded you..”

“Trust me,” he said, knuckling his nose. It wasn’t happy he’d ignored its demands. “That’s not going to help.”

“Rather than hold them back, could you try holding them in?” Delta suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Dr. Voster said. “He’s terrible at it, and I wouldn’t recommend it anyway. Not everyone can be as proficient at stifling as you are, sir.”

Delta’s smile weakened, properly chastised, as Voster tilted her head back and pressed her palms on the bed. Her leg bounced in thought. The three of them sat in a contemplative silence broken only by Omicron’s sniffling before Anita slapped her hands to her knees and stood with purpose.

“There’s nothing for it,” she said. “You’ll just have to avoid sneezing.”

“I won’t be able to,” he told her. His cheeks flushed, and the flash of heat mingling with his fever made him tremble with a chill. Stubbornness alone wouldn’t deter her, so he forced out the rest with emphasis. “And it-.. might cause an unexpected symptom.”

That gave her pause, but only briefly. “When exactly did you last experience the culmination of this symptom?”

This was embarrassing. “... approximately ten minutes before you arrived.”

“And would you expect yourself to experience that again so quickly after the last occurance?”

Somehow, he felt miffed on behalf of his refractory period. “.... I guess not.”

“Then even if you sneeze your head off after this, you’ll be fine,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “If for some reason you’re not, it’s not a big deal. Agent Delta and I will just leave the room until it passes.”

I’d rather chew glass, Omicron thought, than have it come to that. The tickle nestled comfortably against his nerves, weighing his eyelids and prompting a reflexive sniffle. Cheeky bastard. He wouldn’t let it win this time. He grated the rough edge of his sleeve under his nostrils and squared his shoulders.

“Fine.” His flinty gaze locked onto the swab, his opponent in this battle. “Let’s do it.”

The other two exchanged a LookTM and preparation shortly followed. Delta announced he’d received a message from cyber security earlier that morning that required follow up, so he left to wire into the agency’s VPN in one of the hotel’s private conference booths. Voster snapped on some gloves and cracked open a fresh tissue box to place at Omicron’s elbow. He begrudgingly unearthed a wad of them to keep ready in his lap. Better safe than sorry.

Anita watched him carefully. “Would you like to get a few out before we start?”

If she was asking, he probably looked sneezy already. Omicron made an effort to sharpen his gaze and settle the tiny, twitching microexpressions that told plainly of a persistent tickle. “No. I want to get it over with.” He sniffled with a flutter of his nostrils. “Quickly.”

To her credit, Anita didn’t dawdle. “I’m administering a nasopharyngeal swab for the best results. If I can’t get enough from one sample, we’ll have to do the other nostril.”

Omicron nodded, tilting his chin when she stabilized him with a hand to his cheek. He blinked hard against a lurching itch as the swab came closer, hovering just in front of his flushed, prone nose.

“I need to rotate it for ten seconds, and then I’ll slowly remove it,” she told him. “Would it help if I counted?”

He flicked his gaze to the ceiling, hands fisted in the sheets over his lap. “Yes.”

“Alright, the count won’t start until I have it in place.” Dr. Voster eased his head back further, giving him a moment to arrange himself against his pillows before she touched the swab to the edge of one nostril. It pulsed, uncertain. “Here we go.”

This wasn’t Omicron’s first time with this particular type of swab. Normally he preferred it because of how deep it reached, so foreign and uncomfortable that a sneeze never crossed his mind. It was the shorter swabs, the ones that remained inside the borders of his persnickety nasal membranes that caused him agony. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he feared? 

A second later that confidence was swiftly and callously dashed.

This cold was unlike any respiratory infection he’d ever had. It was engineered to inflame every cell of his airways, heighten them to such a state of paranoia that the very act of breathing registered as intrusive. This tickle wasn’t a physical thing; his nasal cavity was affected by such sensitivity that it inevitably itched and twitched and worked itself up into mayhem. Sneeze was the answer to every problem, even nonexistent ones. So to have himself in this state and introduce a material object into the mix was an instant and powerful regret.

The swab burned as it was threaded through his sinuses, razing his nerves as it went, and when the tip of it touched the back of his throat he could feel every millimeter of its length. He slammed his eyes shut. There was a brief moment of shock, as if his nose couldn’t quite believe what had happened. Then the swab began to spin.

His nostrils flew wide. “HHHHHHHH-”

“Shit,” muttered Voster. “Stay with me, c’mon, it’s just ten seconds.. Two….”

Just?! his brain screamed, overwhelmed by nasal panic and frantic to sneeze. Oh, he could feel it. An instant and oppressive demand. None of the usual hitching hesitation, just a massive and mandatory release sitting at the shores of his dilated nostrils. He couldn’t even communicate to Voster that it was coming. 

“.. Three, fight it…”

Omicron pinched himself as hard as he dared by digging his thumb into the pressure point of his other hand. It took the edge off the swab’s insidious stimulation and downgraded the sneeze from automatic to imminent. Lungs at capacity, all the air sat at the top. His body wouldn’t let him exhale without irritation-induced force. A pitiful sound escaped, heady and weak without breath behind it.

“-uuhh-”

“I know, we’re halfway, hang in there.. Six..”

God, this was torture. His nose throbbed with need, the insides puffy and convulsing. Please, they cried. It tickles so badly. Too much. We have to! He hovered just on the verge of the inevitable. Grinding harder into the pressure point on his hand dampened the sensation enough to keep it from progressing, but it never diminished. Just waited an inch from the finish line. Another high, helpless whimper trembled his chest.

“-huUH!-”

“Eight.. you’re doing great, Omicron, nine..” The hand on his cheek shifted to brace him firmly. “.. almost done, try to exhale..”

He couldn’t. His lungs wouldn’t let go. All he could do was live on the brink, tears skating down his cheeks and his features frozen in what he knew had to be a ridiculous face. Yearning or dreading, he didn’t know, but his entire expression flinched when the swab retreated. She was slowly pulling it out, still twirling it. He could feel the thin ropes of his control snapping, the dam crumbling, the glass shattering. An urgent, breathy shout slipped out, pure desperation, and it heralded something enormous.

“-HUUHH--!!!”

The swab slithered out of his nose completely, leaving behind a trail of unbearable sensation. “Okay! Y-”

“--HHEZZSSCCCHHHHUUUEE-!” Omicron hurled himself over his own lap, dizzied by the release, and gasped immediately for more. “-hH-HH!IIHZSSSSHH’UUh!!”

More. “-HH’AADZZSSCHH’HOO-!!”

More. “-HEH’DTSSHHH’HAH-!!”

More still. “ohh-.. HD’DIZZSHHHH’HUH!!”

But the relief wouldn’t come. His nose was so angry by the intrusion, it would give no quarter. Big, heaving sneezes weren’t doing the job, so he found himself next encumbered by small ones. They burst out of him in a row, each igniting a furious itch to prompt the next.

“ihDSH!-.. hck’ISSH!.. uh-HH’TZIshh!.. ugh, god-hHIH!” Omicron fought his eyes open through another gush of tears and caught a blurry glimpse of white. Oh right, the tissues. He gathered them up as his gaze rolled skyward, mouth agape and nostrils vast. It took a couple hitches before the tickle caught again. “h-hHT.. idzz..iiH!..mgh.. aH!KZSSCHH!”

He sneezed through his teeth, then belatedly raised the tissues. His eyes fluttered closed as even the soft touch of them pried another sneeze loose. They mounted in power as his nose, fed up with the lingering tickle the swab left behind, puppeteered him through an increasingly vicious fit.

“-h’ETZsh!... huh.. TZSSCH!ue… h-H!...EHPZSH’Iu!!-oohh..”

At last, a wave of pleasure rushed through his veins. It was faint, but after the hellish holdback and punishing sneezes, Omicron welcomed it. The knowledge there would be more spurred him onward; he breathed into the next ticklish swell with hope.

“uh-HHUH-HESZSCHUUE!” Cool prickles swept through his nose, soothing the frazzled nerves even as they clamored for another. Omicron complied. “heh.. HET’JZZSSSCHHOOO!-nngh..”

He shivered as his skin erupted with goosebumps. A warm, wonderful feeling unfurled in his gut. Head spinning, nose twitching, lungs hitching, he knew the end was close. He breathed deeply, relishing the way it tickled all the way down. Then-

“HEH…uh.. hHP’BIZSSSHHIEW!!-oooohhhh..”

Omicron massaged his nose through the tissues with quiet noises of relief until somebody clearing their throat caught his attention. With wet eyes, he raised his head to see Dr. Voster across the room mixing the swab in a vial with some sort of solution. She kept her attention on it as she spoke.

“Feeling better?”

He paused to cough and swallow. The fit left him raspy. “Yeah.”

“Any unexpected symptoms?” she asked. Fuzzy headed, Omicron looked down at his crotch. There was no tent under the covers, and while he felt boneless, he wasn’t turned on.

“Ndo.”

“Great!” Dr. Voster chirped. “In other good news, I got enough particulate matter on the first try that we won’t have to do it again.” She continued her work, but glanced over to shoot him a smile. “Bless you a dozen, by the way.”

“Thagks,” he huffed, then collapsed back onto the mattress with the solace of a job finished. 

It took a few minutes for him to clean himself up, and as he got his wits about him, he was appreciative that Voster kept herself busy so he could tend to his nose without scrutiny. His pleasant haze dissipated and Omicron realized he was totally spent. His head hurt, as did his throat, and his abs were aching. Once he was huddled under the covers, Anita swung by with a bottle of water and hushed instructions to take another fever reducer, which he did without complaint.

Some time passed. He didn’t know how much. One moment he was nodding off to the tinkling the whirs of Voster’s on-the-go mini-laboratory, and the next he was startling awake to a door opening. For a split second he forgot where he was, what was happening, but then a hand smoothed over his hair. 

“Just Delta,” came Anita’s voice. Tension left his sore muscles and he melted back into the mattress. For once his nose took pity on him, smoldering with a widespread ticklish sensation he could chase away by pinch-rubbing the sides of his nostrils.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to wake you!” was Delta’s contrite greeting. Omicron cracked open dry eyes to see the man coming around the bedside, eyebrows turned up in dismay. “Sorry, Omicron.”

“S’fide,” he replied, voice creaking, and he had to turn his head into the pillow to cough. Fuck, felt like he’d swallowed a sword and left it there.

“Goodness, you sound terrible.” Delta turned anxious eyes to Dr. Voster, who was leaning a hip against her makeshift workstation at the desk by their balcony doors. “Did you get the results?”

“Yep,” she said, cheerfully brandishing the culture sample. “No secondary infection. He’s just having a pronounced immune response to the engineered strain.” Here, she smirked at the Omicron-shaped lump on the bed. “And being very dramatic about it.”

Delta caught the pillow lobbed in her direction before it could knock any lab equipment over. He arranged it back on the bed, then passed his hand over Omicron’s brow. The smaller man let him, closing his eyes as the cool touch moved to his cheek, to his neck, then glided to his shoulder to offer a reassuring pat.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Please be honest.”

Omicron thought of the mission. It didn’t escape him that Dr. Voster confirmed he wasn’t actually sick. His body thought he was, but with proper symptom management he could see this assignment to the end. Josaline would probably love seeing him like this; hopefully her husband would too. 

“Ndot great,” he admitted, and Delta’s puppy-dog expression ramped up tenfold. Omicron rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. “I’b ndot dying, sir. If I get someb rest, I’ll be ready for tomborrow.”

The fact that he’d said all this without even sitting up likely undercut his claims, but Omicron truly believed it. When the time came, he’d rally. He always did. Delta considered him for a long moment before plopping down onto the other bed with a dejected bounce.

“Even if that’s the case, the situation has changed,” he said, lacing his fingers together between his knees. “I got word from Ops that there were attempted hacks into multiple independent identification networks for a ‘Nicolas Foster.’”

Omicron struggled up onto his elbows. 

.. So, they were onto him. At the very least, they were wary of his cover. This wasn’t entirely unexpected. At the agency they explored every outcome, including this one. Josaline Jewel was a suspected cyber criminal. She was rich enough, powerful enough, smart enough to avoid the law. They’d chased her for years. This outcome wasn’t unexpected, but it still ripped a hole through Omicron’s sails.

All this work, he thought, blinking away a sting behind his eyes. For nothing? Because I wasn’t good enough?

“Don’t despair,” Delta commanded. “The hacks left traces and the cyber team is on it. It’s possible they’ll identify a source, and if they do, we can hack them back. This is a victory.”

It didn’t feel like one. Omicron slouched against the headboard, sniffling and sniffling as he compartmentalized any emotions he felt on the matter. Hopefully the others would attribute it to his cold. He nodded at Delta’s words, casting around for his tissue box. He’d knocked it off the bed at some point. Anita silently fetched it from the floor. 

“Intel also shows that they have not left the resort,” Delta continued, gaze glued to Omicron as the man piled tissues under his nostrils. “This suggests they either found nothing dubious in your cover, which I doubt, or…” 

Here, Delta paused and gave his subordinate a little ‘go on’ wave. Omicron flushed, but did as he was told. One big, trembling breath and then a gurgling nose blow. As always, it was much louder than he wanted and yet again he asked himself what unspeakable deed he’d done to deserve this level of karmic retribution. His nose didn’t feel refreshed afterward; rather, it was peeved. He wrinkled the bridge against a dull, undulating tickle.

“Or?” he prompted.

“Or.. they know you’re not who you say you are, but want to meet with you anyway.”

.. Could they be that horny? Omicron mused, swatching the length of his forefinger back and forth beneath restless nostrils. He recalled his time with Josaline by the pool. Yes, probably.

Sniffling, he asked, “Does this chhh..change anything?” 

“They didn’t hack our network directly, so they have no idea what your true identity is or who you work for,” Delta said. “But the nature of the encounter will be unpredictable.”

Red-rimmed eyes tightened at the corners and he gave up on the finger method in favor of tissues. He spoke as he gathered them, his voice wavering into breathier territory as the tickle took shape.

“I c-.. cahhn.. hh..handle unpredict-t.. tahbBBZZSH!” He caught it one handed, not bothering to open his eyes as he lowered the tissues just enough to continue as he contended with an encore. “.. I can handle that.. hhah..” A sharp sniffle. “.. but I doubt they’d t-.. they’d tehh.. hih!PPZSH’uh!.. nguh, tell mbe adythi’g..”

“Well about that, bless you, we need them occupied and away from electronics if we attempt a hack.”

Omicron squinted over his tissues. “So I’d be..”

“A distraction, yes.”

The original mission was to extract incriminating information from the target, but considering the new variables at play, this new directive would be just as effective. Honestly, with this cold, Omicron wasn’t sure he could finesse a subtle interrogation with stellar results. Acting as smoke and mirrors for the cyber team, however.. 

“..hh!uhh.. hHT-”

That, he could definitely do.

“-DZSSh’oo!”

/tbc!

Next up, the big date!! ♨️ Apologies to anyone who was hoping for the threesome this chapter 😅 Had to indulge my rabid desire for hurt/comfort lol. A big huge thank you to anyone reading who’s stuck around!! My next update might be a little slow because of work stuff, but hoping to have it up in a decent time frame. See you soon! 🥰

PART 4 IS HERE!

[simmerianne93]

[Simmerianne93]Portrait_poses_13

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Hello everyone!! How are you today???

I'm bringing a new posepack that was a commission for an amazing storyteller on twitter (Pamsimmer). She is making a simverse called Pamverse, playing primarily with the Landgraab family and the Munch family, although it also covers a few more families, such as the Huntington family and the Villareal family. If you are interest on reading it, She has a directory with the whole story from the beginning on tumblr here and I really encorage you to read it, cause it is REALLY good. These poses belong to her Gen 2, with Malcolm's family.

I made these poses with some variations for you to have versatility when using them. There are 4 poses with 2 different versions (Poses #1 to #4 are with a Neutral or slightly smile face and poses #5 to #8 are the same poses but with a big smile in their faces).

The sims from all 8 poses can be combine with eachother to make different portrait combinations. There are some limitations but, I tried to make them as versatile as possible.

I hope you like them!!

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What is on it?

4 groupal poses with 2 versions each one.

---

What do you need?

Andrew's poses player 

Teleport any sim by Scumbumbo.

BaseGame Executive guest chair

OPTIONAL: Invisible infant mat replacement  by mcrudd

—

Instructions in the original post.

——

TOU

Do not claim my creations as your own.

Do not re-upload or modify my creations.

Do not make money of my creations.

Do not include my creations in Mods folders to download.

Please follow my Term Of Use.

——

Download it now here — [EARLY ACCESS until September 17th, 2024]

——————

If you want to support me:  Patreon | Ko-fi

All my poses overview: Pinterest |  Wix | Tumblr

More in-game preview pics of all my poses: Instagram

My socials: Twitter | BlueSky | Instagram | Tumblr

Lives and videos: Youtube

——————

I really hope you like them and I will say in advance: Thank you so much for using them.

@ts4-poses

--

[steelbluehome]

From Fear and Loathing: Closer to the Edge on Facebook

Heading to a “Hands Off!” protest this Saturday? Here’s everything you need to know — your rights, safety tips, and what to do if arrested.

On Saturday, April 5, people across the United States will gather for a coordinated day of resistance. From major cities to small towns, the “Hands Off!” protests are about drawing a hard line — against political overreach, creeping authoritarianism, and policies that strip away our rights and dignity.

Whether you’re marching in New York City, Dallas, Chicago, or a rural square in Nebraska, your presence matters. So does your preparation.

Here’s your nationwide guide to showing up — and staying safe while doing it.

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS (AND WRITE THEM ON YOUR ARM)

Before you arrive: Write the local legal support hotline number on your arm in permanent marker. In many cities, National Lawyers Guild (NLG) chapters will operate hotlines and send legal observers.

Say: “I am exercising my right to remain silent. I want a lawyer.”

Ask: “Am I being detained or am I free to go?”

If detained, remain silent.

If not, walk away calmly.

Legal observers (often in green hats/vests) are there to document police behavior — not to represent you legally. You can notify them if you witness abuse or misconduct.

WHAT TO BRING

Pack like you’re staying awhile and planning for anything:

Water and snacks

Face mask, hand sanitizer, and sunscreen

Phone with passcode lock (NOT Face ID/fingerprint)

External battery pack

Cash (for food, transit, emergencies)

Printed emergency contacts

Comfortable shoes, weather-appropriate clothing

Goggles or saline drops (in case of tear gas, depending on region)

Don’t bring:

Weapons (or anything that could be construed as one)

Illegal substances

Anything you wouldn’t want seized or photographed by law enforcement

STAY SAFE, STAY CALM, STAY NON-VIOLENT

Stick together. Stay with your group. Have a plan if separated.

Avoid confrontation. Ignore counter-protesters and agitators.

Film what matters. You have the legal right to record public events, including police activity — but don’t interfere.

De-escalate when possible. Your goal is to be heard, not baited.

Watch your surroundings. Know where you are and how to exit if needed.

If arrested:

Don’t resist.

Don’t talk beyond name and birthdate.

Wait for a lawyer.

Don’t sign anything without legal counsel.

PROTECT YOUR DATA

Phones are tools — and vulnerabilities.

Turn off Face ID and fingerprint unlock. Use a passcode.

Consider airplane mode during risky moments.

Back up photos/videos or use live stream apps like Instagram or Twitch to preserve footage.

Use encrypted messaging apps like Signal.

RESOURCES BY REGION

While every city differs, these national orgs often have local chapters or partners at major protests:

National Lawyers Guild: nlg.org

ACLU: aclu.org/know-your-rights

Mutual Aid Networks: Search “[Your City] Mutual Aid”

Bail Funds Directory: bailfunds.github.io

Legal Hotlines: Often listed on local protest pages or announced by organizers day-of

TRANSPORT + ACCESSIBILITY

Plan ahead: Some roads and transit lines may close or reroute.

Carpool or take transit when possible.

If you need ADA accommodations, contact local organizers in advance or ask staff at arrival points.

THIS IS BIGGER THAN A MARCH

This isn’t just a protest. It’s a warning flare — and a promise. That we won’t stand by while our rights are stripped. That we won’t let apathy win. That we see what’s happening — and we’re not afraid to raise hell, peacefully and powerfully.

So come prepared.

Come together.

And don’t let them scare you into silence.

Stay safe. Stay loud.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Hold My Hand

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When you receive unwanted attention on a weekend staycation with your friends, a knight in a shining navy suit saves you by offering his hand.

Warnings: creepy guy doesn't understand 'no' and continues making unwanted advances, but Tim saves the day. angst to fluff (I guess?)

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When your friends invited you out for a girls’ weekend, you were expecting a spa retreat or a cottage at the beach, not a penthouse in Los Angeles. More than that, you didn’t expect them to pick one of the sleaziest restaurants you’ve ever seen to spend their Friday night. Luckily – if there is a ‘luckily’ in this situation – you found a quiet corner on the rooftop. Your friends are downstairs, huddled around the bar as they look for rich, single men. It doesn’t exactly seem like the breeding ground for that type of man, though.

“Good evening, gorgeous,” a deep voice says behind you.

Assuming they’re talking to someone else, you ignore them, keeping your attention on the railing around the roof’s edge.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you,” he adds.

When his hand lands on your upper arm, forcefully turning you toward him, you truly begin regretting coming on this trip.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim feels like an animal in a zoo enclosure. Wearing a suit that isn’t his, in a place he’d rather never see again, with a few too many pairs of eyes blatantly watching him. 

Two hours ago, he was sitting in the station, minutes away from getting to go home. Now he, Lucy, and Angela are undercover in a known mafia club. While the women in the restaurant stare at Tim, the men try to catch Lucy and Angela’s attention.

Sighing, Tim checks his watch. He’s been in one place too long with no sign of their target.

“I’m gonna go check the roof, see if our target’s up there,” Tim tells Lucy.

“The roof?” she asks.

“Yeah, the bar.”

“There’s a bar on the roof?!” 

“We’re in Los Angeles, boot, of course there’s a bar on the roof. Angela, keep her close.”

Angela nods, and if Lucy wasn’t already a little creeped out by the men standing across the room, she would be offended.

Tim gets in the elevator, leaning against the wall once the doors are closed. The rooftop bar, however, is full of people who are somehow more intimidating than the ones inside. Looking around, Tim doesn’t see the target or any of his known associates. What he does see, though, is a situation that he shouldn’t get involved in, yet he can’t look away.

✯✯✯✯✯

The man beside you cannot take a hint. You slowly back away until his hand falls from your arm, and one of your legs slides off the barstool. When your foot hits the floor, you stand and keep the seat between you.

“C’mon, gorgeous, ‘s jus’ a question,” he slurs. “Yes or no?”

“I said no,” you repeat firmly.

He doesn’t like your answer, though, and you try to hide your flinch when he slams his glass down on the bar.

“You here alone?”

You glance around, hoping you see someone who looks trustworthy enough to hide with. But you don’t see anyone who fits the bill.

“No,” you answer. “My friends are downstairs.”

“Just friends?”

He leans closer, his arm moving to cage you on one side. Inhaling sharply, you try to think of a way to escape this situation without making it worse or drawing more unwanted attention.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’ve got nothing,” Angela says in Tim’s earpiece. “Anything up there?”

“No,” Tim answers.

“We’re leaving then. Can’t do anything without him here.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll catch up.”

“What?” Lucy asks.

“I’ve got to do something first. I’ll see you at the station tomorrow. Call if you need anything.”

Tim removes the earpiece, switching it off as he drops it into his blazer pocket. Moving quickly across the rooftop, he doesn’t realize that he doesn’t have a real plan.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey,” another voice says beside you. “I was wondering where you got off to. What’s going on here?”

You glance over, and your shoulders drop when you see how clean-cut and trustworthy he looks. Given your current situation, you’re glad to see a man who isn’t clearly a predator, but you try not to think about how low the bar is.

“Hi,” you reply. “I was trying to come back, but, uh, got caught up.”

Widening your eyes slightly, you try to communicate that you are not here by choice.

“Give her some room, man.”

The creep leans back enough that you can move, and you rush to your savior’s side.

“And next time a woman tells you ‘no,’ you’d do well to listen,” he adds darkly, letting you hide behind his shoulder.

“Whatever. She jus’ doesn’t know what she wants.”

A kind hand turns you around, and the man whispers, “I’m Tim.”

You tell him your name, flinching when glass shatters behind you.

“Hold my hand,” Tim says, spreading his fingers between you as he looks over his shoulder.

Without hesitation, you interlace your fingers with his. He pulls you close as the elevator opens. Once you’re alone, neither of you releases your grip on the other’s hand.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I hate that I had to jump in, but you’re welcome. Are you okay? Did he touch you?”

You shake your head, looking down at your joined hands.

“Do you really have friends downstairs?”

“I have… acquaintances that I will never be going on vacation with again.”

“Vacation? You’re not from here?”

“That’s the funny part. We all live here, so imagine my surprise when the weekend getaway was twenty minutes from my house.”

“Sounds like you need new friends.”

You hum before asking, “Who are you here with?”

“For work.”

At your confused glance, Tim raises his blazer to reveal a badge.

That must be why he helped you.

The door opens, and you pull your hand from his.

“Thanks for helping me, officer. Have a great night.”

Tim watches as you disappear into the crowd, stepping out of the elevator confused and surprisingly upset. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he calls the only person he can think of. 

“No questions, Angela. I helped a girl get away from a guy who didn’t understand ‘no.’ As soon as she saw the badge she disappeared. Something was happening before that-“

“Timothy,” Angela sighs. “She thinks you did it out of duty then let her flirt with you. Find her and ask her out, anything to show that you did it for her and not because of some twisted savior complex.”

“Thanks, Lopez.”

Ending the call, Tim heads toward the bar. He thinks that’s where groups of girls on vacation probably hang out. When the bar comes into view, he has no problem finding you, like the brightest light in a dark room.

“Nothing happened, I just went to the roof for a while,” you insist.

“No, you had that glow thing. You met a guy.”

“Maybe I did but he wasn’t interested.”

“Don’t drag me into this if you’re not going to tell the story right,” Tim says, approaching your side.

“Tim?” you ask, turning toward him.

Your body language with him compared to the man upstairs, even how you interact with the women you're here with, differs vastly. Squared to him and completely open, you’re practically inviting him to do something.

“I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. I was off the clock, not that it matters. My motivation may have been pure, just to help, at first, but then you held my hand and I never wanted to let go.”

“Can we…” you pause as you look around. “Can we please not do this here?”

“As long as we do it now.”

Tim offers his hand, and you nod as you take it. Leading you through the crowd, Tim keeps you close. Exiting onto the noisy Los Angeles street, Tim turns toward you.

“I could tell you needed help, or wanted it at least,” Tim explains. “But I don’t want this to end here. I- your hand fits in mine.”

“Please don’t tell me that means we’re soulmates or something.”

Tim smiles, and you forget why you were upset in the elevator.

“I’m Tim Bradford,” he introduces, shaking your already joined hands. “I am a cop, but not with you. With you, I think I could be the man I’d like to be.”

“Romantic,” you murmur.

“I know. It’s scaring me a little. You can’t tell my friends, okay?”

“As long as we don’t tell mine either.”

“So, you’re willing to try?”

“I mean, where else am I going to find a knight in a shining navy suit?” you ask, leaning closer. “As long as your hand stays in mine, I’m willing to try.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 10

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you’re not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Loki entwines your life like the snake he is. You stare at the steaming cup of tea as you listen to him in the kitchen. You don’t really trust him not to ruin anything else but you’re powerless to stop him. Every move has another pang plucking in your stomach.  

God! You can’t believe it. Three days. With him? And you’re married? Right, none of this makes sense. He can’t be your husband. It’s impossible. 

You drag yourself up and clutch your stomach. There’s something else, a tingle as your thighs press together. A flash ripples behind your eyes and you hear him groaning, feeling him thrusting, his hot breath enshrines you. You blink and it’s gone. A moan drifts from your lips. 

You search your apartment and scowl. All this green... It’s not bad but it’s a bit much. None of you is left here. Aren’t marriages unions not invasions? 

No, you’re not married. He never even asked. You get up and suss out your phone on the side table. You pick it up as you keep an ear toward his constant stirring. You tap into the search bar and bring up City Hall. You have to call. Damn it. 

You tiptoe toward the bathroom and peek back as you ease the door shut. You tap the phone number and chew your thumb. You’re on hold for a while and after navigating through the directory, you finally get an answer. 

“Hi, er, wow,” you respond to the dull tone on the other end. “I don’t really know how to do this. Sorry, erm, I need to look up a marriage license?” 

“Do you have the registration number?” The woman asks. 

“No, but I can give you my name? My Social Security? Whatever you need.” 

“Social Security,” she sniffs into the speaker. She doesn’t seem very impressed. 

You recite the memorised number and wait as you hear the clacking of keys. She hums flatly. “Yep, right here...” she reads out your name, “and uh, Lachi—Loki Laufeyson.” 

Your heart drops. What? Your last hope that he’s as much a liar as ever evaporates. You stand stunned, starring into the drain. 

“Anything else I can do, ma’am?” She doesn’t sound genuinely helpful. 

“No,” you croak and hang up. You’ve wasted her time. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You lift your head and slowly let yourself look at your reflection. You shriek at Loki as he grins over you. 

“Oh god,” you spin to face him in the tight space, “do you have to do that?” 

“Well, I was concerned. I find my wife missing--” 

“Don’t say it. Stop. No. Wife? I can’t--” 

“It is the truth. Legal, as it were. Surely that lovely woman on the phone told you so,” he slithers. 

“Ugh, why? Why me?” 

“Oh, I know, how lucky you are,” he tickles along your sides and you nearly toss the phone. You stop him, latching onto one wrist as you push your cell against the other. 

“Haven’t you done enough?” 

“Hardly. Darling, we are on honeymoon, are we not? So let us taste the delicious nectar of our coming together--” 

“Honeymoon? Wow, it’s wonderful,” you look around. 

“Ah, yes, I do believe you mortals prefer to travel, so...” 

He untangles his arm from your grasp and snaps his finger. His figure is limned in ribbons of green and your insides twist as the world spins around you. Your feet leave the ground only to land heavier on something else.  

You blink and cry out. The sky is a vibrant violet and silver stars shine in a constellation all around. You crane to see the tapestry as your feet press on something rough. You look down and two golden sandals appear on your feet. The satin robe transforms into a gown with braiding that matches the shoes. 

Loki turns parallel to you and presses his hand to your lower back. “Beautiful, yes?” 

You peer around and open and close your mouth. You take inhale deeply. Several times. You know you’re nowhere on earth. 

“I can breathe...” you murmur. 

“As you know, I have my tricks,” he purrs. 

“Wh-where are we?” You ask shakily, the reality that you’re on an entirely different planet rattles in your skull. 

“Does it matter? We are together?” You look at him and he turns to meet your gaze, “why do you look upon me thus?” 

You shake your head. You can’t explain all the ways he makes you feel. Loathing, confusion, agitation, and a little fear. 

“It’s a lot,” you utter at last. 

“Yes, I’ve been told I can be much to handle.” 

You sigh and look up at the sky. It is pretty. Your eyes wander down to the rocky peaks along the far edge of the planet. It smells like... flowers and vanilla and cinnamon. You raise your nose to sniff it deeper. 

“What is that?” 

“I wouldn’t know. I smell sage and Asgardian oak. It won’t be the same as you.” 

“Huh?” You glance at him again. This time, he laughs. 

“Here, you can smell exactly what you like best. And the sky reflects the colours which you most love. To me, a sea of evergreen and sapphire, but now, a touch of the shade of your lips too. For you... well, what do you see?” 

Your heart flips. It can’t be true. 

“I’m not lying to you,” he affirms as if he can read your mind. Somehow, you believe him. 

“It’s purple. Lilac and plum and there’s silver stars.” 

“Lovely,” he wraps his arm around you. It’s strange. You don’t feel so... uneasy. Almost calm. “And you’ve not even seen our accommodation, my beautiful wife.” 

“Just... let me enjoy this. Just a little.” 

He hums but says nothing else. His fingers curl into your hips and his chest falls. You’re not happy but you’re not entirely unhappy. Not like it will make much difference. You’re in to deep. 

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter ELEVEN.

nba!gojo x manager!reader || directory. || prev. || next.

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, slight unwanted advances, mahito in general, fangirl todo. || sfw. 5.3k words.

THE NEXT DAY, the Curses take the series against the Foxes. It’s official: the Sorcerers-Curses rivalry will come to a head in the NBA championships, starting on Friday in San Diego.

The team went harder than ever at practice today, not only drilling but talking strategy and getting into the nitty-gritty of the psychological impact of the rivalry. Yaga knows Mei Mei and the Curses don’t go easy, or fair. They’re ready.

As you pull out the keys to your apartment, you frown at the package on your welcome mat, a weird cylindrical shape with no return address. After you make it to the kitchen, you open it and find a rolled-up sheet of glossy paper. What?

You spread it out on your countertop and see an official signed poster of Satoru, in full uniform, palming a basketball in one hand with a huge smirk on his face. With the photo’s professional editing, his eyes look even more blue than usual, and you may or may not stare at them a second too long.

“Jesus fuck,” you say.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes.

six: did you get my gift?? you: is this for target practice? how sweet six: :( you: baby six: oh it’s like that😏 you: that was an insult

When your phone goes off again after you’ve relegated the rolled-up poster to an end table, you assume it’s Satoru responding. But instead, you find a text from Geto.

suguru geto: Thought about my offer at all?

Great. He waited until the Curses made the championships and just thought he’d try again? You screenshot the text and send it to Satoru.

you: what if i turn on read receipts just for this

six: HAHAHAHA

You won’t, because you’re still planning on taking Geto by surprise on Friday when he realizes you and Satoru are actually together. Your phone rings, and your brow furrows as you realize you don’t recognize the number or the area code.

“Sorcerers management,” you greet, and a high-pitched voice comes through the speaker.

“Hi there! This is Takada with the Reggie Star Show.” You hesitate for a moment. Reggie’s show is kind of a huge deal, and Takada has become something of a personality herself, although you’ve always found her a bit over the top.

“Uh, how can I help you?” you ask finally.

“So! Reggie would love to invite Satoru Gojo onto the show before the NBA championships.” You stand stock-still in your kitchen.

What the fuck, you mouth silently to yourself. It’s not like Reggie never has athletes on the show. But only Satoru?

“Not the rest of the team?” you clarify, and Takada laughs, a high, kind of shrill sound that has you holding your phone a bit away from your ear.

“Well, you see, we’re hoping to promote the series a bit by pulling the centers from both teams! Mr. Geto has already agreed, so we’d love to interview him and Mr. Gojo together.”

Oh, Jesus.

You are 100% certain this is Mei Mei’s doing. You instinctively want to reject her now, but this isn’t really your call.

“Let me run this by Gojo and the coaches, and I can get back to you, Takada,” you say, hoping that tides her over for now.

“No problem. Thank you!” she chirps, and the line goes dead. You groan, staring at the ceiling. This is not worth the hassle. You swipe to Satoru’s contact and call him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Miss me already?” he drawls, and you roll your eyes.

“Asshole. So, guess who just called me?”

“If you say Suguru I’m flying to San Diego early and cornering him in an alley.”

You laugh. “Okay, Jesus. No. Uh, the Reggie Star Show?”

“What?” Satoru screeches.

“They have Geto coming on before championships,” you sigh, “and they want you too. To ‘promote the series’ or whatever. Drama on screen.”

“Mei Mei’s idea?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“I don’t really think I have time, considering… it’s championships and we’re training every day? Yaga would be pissed, probably. Not much of a publicity guy.”

Something in your chest loosens at his words. Truthfully, you really don’t want him to go, to be in a situation where he and Geto can only verbally spar through a guise of political politeness.

“Also, I just… don’t want to?” he says. You grin.

“Good. I was hoping.”

“Aw, don’t want me to launch my television career?” You sink onto your couch as he keeps talking. “That could be a great return on investment for you, you know. You have my autograph now.”

“Shut up. And don’t tell Nobara about this. She’d be so mad at you.”

“Scaryyy,” he says, and he’s not joking. “Come over for dinner?” The change in topic has you smiling as you kick your feet up on the coffee table. “Miki and Gumi are coming. And Yuji.”

“And the dogs?”

“Am I not enough for you?” he scoffs, and you grin.

“Not even close.”

“Yes, the dogs, you heathen.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you say innocently, and hang up on him.

—

Tsumiki meets you at Satoru’s door with a massive grin on her face and immediately pulls you into a hug.

“Hi!” she says excitedly, ushering you inside.

“Hey, Tsumiki,” you smile, and then there’s a rapid pitter-patter of the dogs rounding the corner into the entryway, and you fall into a pile of fur and kisses. “Hi, buddies! Hi!” Shiro shoves her nose into your face and Kuro plops himself down in your lap right as Satoru rounds the corner.

“Stealing my girlfriend,” he whines.

“Dumbass,” you say, and let him help you up. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and you blush against your will.

“C’mon. Pasta’s ready.” You follow Satoru into the kitchen and find Yuji and Megumi putting plates on the small table. You raise a brow.

“Whose cooking?”

“Whose do you think?” Tsumiki asks.

“I helped!” Yuji insists, pointing to the oven. “I’m making garlic bread!”

Tsumiki pats him on the shoulder and says, “Yes, Yuji, you did a great job.”

You fire off a quick message to Yaga to confirm that it’s okay to reject Takada’s offer, and he responds within two minutes, Please do.

You step out to make the call, and when you come back into the kitchen, Yuji and Tsumiki are giggling at something.

“What are you two on about?” you ask, and Tsumiki, still snickering, hands you her phone. It’s open to a tweet of a grainy computer screenshot, and it says SOMEONE LOOK AT ME THE WAY SATORU GOJO LOOKS AT THE SORCERERS MANAGER PLS PLSPLS

That’s not even the part that gets you. First of all, it’s not from the most recent game—it’s from before you were together. You’re wearing the Limitless shirt.

Second, Kasumi retweeted it.

“Jesus,” you say, and Satoru appears at your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” You swat at him without looking and then pull out your phone to text Kasumi. “I need to tell her before she finds out somewhere else.”

As if on cue, your phone lights up with her name. Your first thought is that she somehow already knows and is FaceTiming you to scream at you. You swipe and her face materializes in front of you, a massive grin on her face and—has she been crying?

“Kasumi! Are you okay?”

“Yes!” she practically screams. And then she holds up her hand, and you stare for a long moment before realizing she’s wearing a ring.

“Holy shit!” you screech. “Kasumi!” The grin splits across your face, and she’s laugh-crying on the other end of the phone, and then she abruptly freezes.

And you realize Satoru’s very much visible in the frame behind you.

“Alley-oop,” she says. “You motherf—Alley. Is that—”

You can see the tips of your ears going pink in the camera in the corner of the screen. “Surprise?”

“To you, maybe!” she laughs. “Holy shit. Holy shit! This is the best day of my life.”

Muta appears beside Kasumi, squinting at the screen. “Tell me it’s because we’re getting married and not because she and Gojo finally banged.” Megumi wrinkles his nose at the other end of the table.

“Kokichi,” Kasumi scolds, but Satoru cracks up behind you and you can’t help but follow suit.

“Congrats, you guys,” you say. “I’m so happy for you. Does Akari know?”

“She’s next on the list,” Kasumi grins.

“We’ll let you go, then,” you say, and take a moment to just appreciate how fucking happy your friend looks. Her blue hair is a mess and her eyes are rimmed red, but she’s glowing. This has been a long time coming. You couldn’t be happier for her, honestly.

When she hangs up, Satoru grins and says, “Aw, basketball romance.” Then he looks pointedly at Yuji and Megumi.

“I suddenly feel like a fifth wheel,” Tsumiki announces. Then she looks at Shiro and Kuro, curled up together on the couch. “Seventh wheel?”

You plop into the chair next to Tsumiki and wrap your arm around her. “Nah, Satoru’s seventh wheeling. I’m here for you.”

She grins, and Satoru falls to his knees and dramatically fakes his own death. The dogs leap off the couch to investigate, and soon he’s laughing as Shiro slobbers all over him while Kuro decides to lay across his legs.

In truth, you don’t remember the last time you felt this content. It’s a nice feeling, warm.

And then a smell hits you, like something burning, and you furrow your brows and turn toward the kitchen. “Is something—”

“Oh my god!” Yuji screeches, practically falling out of his chair and bolting for the kitchen. “The garlic bread!”

—

The results of turning down the Reggie Star offer have, quite possibly, the funniest results of all time.

You’re curled up on Satoru’s couch two days later with your feet on his lap and Tsumiki on your other side, Megumi and Yuji sprawled with the dogs on the floor. On the TV, Todo walks on stage to a cheering studio audience and locks eyes with Takada, and you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he just passed out right now.

“Simp,” Satoru says. You look at him incredulously. “Okay, hey, I did not say I wasn’t also.” He plants a kiss on your temple and Megumi pretends to gag.

You swear Todo literally has physical stars in his eyes when he looks at her. He shakes her hand with both of his and does a weird half-bow and says, “It’s such an honor, Ms. Ta—“

“Oh, please,” Takada giggles. “Just call me Takada.” Todo goes red again, stammering out a response.

“This is the most painful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Megumi says. He’s only watching this because Yuji wants to.

“Mr. Aoi Todo,” Reggie Star says grandly, throwing an arm around him like they’re already best buds. “Take a seat, take a seat. Thanks again for joining us on such short notice!”

Todo takes his place on the couch while Reggie and Takada sit in opposing armchairs, the background flashing the Reggie Star Show logo as the theme music peters out. Reggie grills Todo with questions about the Samurai-Sorcerers series, playing against Yuji after playing with him in college, all the connections the team has with half of the championship bracket. And throughout, Todo just can’t tear his gaze away from Takada.

By the time it’s over you’re nearly falling off the couch, laughing yourself halfway to tears.

“Guys, it’s cute! He has a crush!” Yuji exclaims, and you all laugh harder. Tsumiki collapses into you, her hair spreading out over the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing—one of Satoru’s, blue and black and smelling like him.

After the commercial break, which consisted of an actually absurd amount of Takada promoting various useless products, Todo is nowhere to be found. Geto sits on the couch in his place with a press-worthy smile and a crisp, navy blue suit.

“And here we’ve got the starting center of one of the two NBA teams gunning for the championship title, Mr. Suguru Geto,” Reggie introduces, and the studio audience whoops and cheers as Geto waves them off, smiling modestly. You kind of want to slap him.

“Now, let’s not beat around the bush here, Suguru—you’re going up against the Sorcerers the day after tomorrow, and that means you’re coming face to face with your old teammate, Satoru ‘Six-Eyes’ Gojo.” Reggie looks pointedly out at the crowd, like they’re in on some big secret, and turns back to Geto. “How do you feel about this match-up, two starting centers with a lengthy history on the court with stakes this high?”

Geto sighs and leans forward a bit in his seat, one elbow on the armrest. “Well, Reggie, Satoru and I go back a long time.” You wrinkle your nose at the sound of his first name in Geto’s mouth. You feel weirdly defensive about it. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we went to high school together and then college, so we’ve been playing basketball together since our early teens.”

Takada chimes in, “That’s quite the bond, going through the most formative parts of your careers together!” You can’t take her seriously, because in your head she’s still winking at the camera and waxing poetic about the merits of some new Japanese skincare line.

Reggie nods, encouraging Geto to go on. “I’ve gotta say, I am looking forward to seeing him again. He’s a hard man to get ahold of these days. It’ll be good to see him, albeit on opposite sides of the court.”

“No, it will not,” Satoru says with a false cheer in his voice, pointing a finger gun at the TV.

“And how do you think your odds are looking for this series?”

“Well,” Geto laughs, “the Sorcerers are talented, I’ll give them that. Clearly, they’ve made it this far. But I will say that the Curses are first seed with home court advantage.” He shrugs. “So do with that what you will.”

Takada glances at Reggie, as if asking permission for something, and he nods. “If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Geto, there’s another familiar face on the other side of things as well, a former manager of the Curses.”

Geto nods, a wide smile crossing his face, and you feel Satoru tense up beside you. “Oh, we miss her a lot, yes. She’s great at what she does. I keep telling her she should make her way back to San Diego if she feels so inclined.” He laughs, like this is some great ongoing joke.

“Oh, so you two still speak regularly, then?” Reggie asks, intrigued. Your jaw clenches, and Satoru’s hand encloses yours before it can become a fist.

“I just recently paid her a visit out east.” Oh my god. Oh my god.

“That fucker,” Satoru growls. Your phone buzzes with a message from Ieiri.

my wife: this little man bun bitch

my wife: what if i commit murder. what then

You’re seething, and even Tsumiki is frowning, the lines creasing her face, turning the corners of her mouth down. Paid you a visit? As if you’re friends and he came to catch up with you over coffee, not dropped in on your street in the dark to harass you about a job you don’t want?

“Well, sounds like it’ll be quite the reunion,” Reggie is saying by the time the smoke clears out of your ears enough for you to hear again.

Tsumiki reaches across you to ruffle Satoru’s hair. “He’s just trying to get under your skin. Don’t let him.”

You shoot a quick message back to Ieiri.

you: tbh i’d pay a lot of money to see y’all in a cage match

Reggie and Takada shift to broader questions about the series and you tune out most of the remainder of the segment, irritated when Geto answers one too many questions with Satoru’s name, subtly suggesting that the Sorcerers have none of the grit and discipline the Curses do.

“They’re a fun bunch,” he says at one point. “Like a barrel of monkeys. They just have a good time.” The tone is all fake, smoothed-out public relations, and it makes your blood boil. You know what he’s really implying, that it’s an insult. That the Sorcerers spend all their time hanging off hoops instead of drilling themselves into the ground. You know it’s not true. You’ve watched them work their asses off all year.

“God forbid we know how to have fun,” Satoru snorts, and you feel the tension easing from your shoulders just at the sound of his voice.

“You don’t,” you say teasingly, flipping yourself around on the couch so your head lands in his lap. “That’s entirely Kento.”

Satoru gasps and looks down at you. “You take that back. Nanami is the most unfun—“

“Not a word,” Tsumiki says helpfully.

“Everyone in this house hates me! Slander under my own roof!” He digs his fingers into your sides and starts tickling you, and you squirm out of his grasp and onto the ground, but he follows you. Soon it’s a mess of Shiro and Kuro frantically pouncing on both of you as you squeal for Satoru to let you go, and Tsumiki is definitely filming this whole thing, and it’s all so incredibly domestic and unserious and right that your heart swells in your chest.

Fuck Geto. He can’t get to you here, and he can’t take you away from the team you love.

—

Being in San Diego again is strange. The facilities are familiar, the gyms, the locker rooms, but you’re walking them a different person than you left them, experiencing the same setting in a new context that makes you feel like you’re living in one prolonged moment of déjà vu.

Nobara walks alongside you, bouncing between social media notifications and ranting about the way Geto made the Sorcerers sound on national television last night. Ieiri’s setting up in the training room down the hall, and Yaga’s pulled the guys into the locker room for a quick meeting before they launch into their last practice before the next day’s match.

You keep thinking about Yaga pulling you aside this morning, murmuring a quick warning in your ear. “If you see Mei Mei, no you don’t. Not worth the time. Just slip away.”

So far there’s been no sign of the other manager, and you’re glad for it.

Nobara’s phone starts ringing and she nods at you and peels off, pressing it to her ear and slipping deeper into the building. You lean against the wall, checking your own phone, making sure you don’t have any missed calls or emails.

The side doors open loudly, metal scraping across the floor, and you look up.

Fuck.

It seems Mei Mei doesn’t do her own damn dirty work.

“Oh, hello!” Mahito crows, making his way over to you. You didn’t like him when you worked for the Curses and you don’t like him now, his leering grin too wide for his face, hair tied into three sections behind his back. Him, you know—but you haven’t yet met the man beside him, a lanky, tall guy with oddly wide eyes and a long blond ponytail weirdly off-center on his head.

Of course, you know who he is. You’ve done your research, you’ve seen the roster. Haruta Shigemo.

“I hoped you’d be here.” Mahito comes to a stop in front of you as you push off the wall, crossing your arms.

“Mahito.” Your voice is cold, flat.

He frowns, an exaggerated, off-putting gesture. “Thought it’d be a happier reunion,” he says. He holds his arms out toward Shigemo with a flourish. “I’d like you to meet Haruta. He, ah, was something of a replacement for your Six-Eyes.”

Shigemo stares at you, unblinking, a small, close-lipped smile sending a shiver down your spine. You’re suddenly aware of how close these two men are to you, that your back is to the wall, that you’re alone in the hallway.

“Look, I really have a lot to get done—”

“Oh, we don’t mean to bother you!” Mahito laughs, high-pitched and manic. “We just wanted to welcome you back home, you know. Make sure you settled in to the old stomping grounds.” He leans in, breath smelling like some odd combination of fruity gum and stale crackers. You shudder involuntarily. “I hope you don’t take it too hard when they lose,” he whispers, too close to your face. “Should you need an out, remember we’re in your corner.”

Shigemo holds a hand up as you’re about to retort, tilting his head and studying you. “If he’s not your type,” he giggles, nodding at Mahito, “I’ve got some time on my hands tonight.”

Your face flushes deep red with anger, fists going white-knuckled at your side. “I do not need—”

“Excuse me,” says a cool, familiar voice, and the tension in your muscles goes slack as Kento comes to stand directly between you and your newfound nuisances. “I believe we’ve already taken care of any business that needed tending to before the match tomorrow, yes? Is there anything else I can help you with? We’re just about to kick off practice, and I’m afraid our time is limited.”

Mahito steps back, holding his arms up in false surrender. “Nanami! Hello!” He grins widely. “We’re representatives, of a sort. Just making sure the bunch of you are settled in.” Shigemo nods and looks Kento up and down, calculating.

“We are just fine,” he says flatly, nudging you with a hand behind his back. You nod at the two Curses players and storm down the hallway toward the gym, heart racing in your chest. Behind you, you hear Kento still talking. “Do tell Mei Mei her… thoughtfulness is noted.”

In the gym, the guys are warming up, and your eyes immediately lock on Megumi, angrily slamming an innocent basketball against the wall, over and over. Yuji dribbles between his knees without looking at his ball, watching Megumi intently.

You don’t see Satoru, and for a moment you’re worried, feeling a little off-balance, until you feel hands on your shoulders, spinning you around. “Well, hello,” he says, and you laugh, dropping your head into his chest.

“Fuck is up with Megumi?” you ask, nodding toward him, and Satoru frowns. You notice now the tension in him, the slight anger in his eyes, an energy like impatience and frustration all around his edges.

“Suguru was fucking with him. Saying shit about Tsumiki. I was dealing with him.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, considering as he looks over your shoulder at Yuji drawing Megumi back onto the court. “He’s such a dick.”

Kento walks in then, making his way straight over to you. “You okay?” he asks, and Satoru’s brows knit together.

“What? Why wouldn’t she—” He turns to you. “Why wouldn’t you be okay? What happened?”

“Mahito,” you say. “Shigemo, too. Fucking pricks.”

Satoru breathes in sharply, his grip on your shoulder tightening protectively. “If they put their fucking hands on you—”

“Toru,” you say, the nickname slipping out without your permission. It seems to calm him down a little, makes him look at you steadily. “Kento got them out of the way. And they won’t do anything to me. They’re just doing Mei Mei’s bidding, same as Geto, probably.” You grab his hands in yours, nodding at Kento to say you’ll be okay. He inclines his head and walks away, gathering the rest of the team in the center of the gym.

“They want to get under your skin. Don’t let them."

Your voice is steady and calm, coated with a reassurance you don’t feel. Your nerves are still on high alert, Mahito’s breathing down your neck, Shigemo’s unsettling scrutiny lingering in your mind. But you know they’re not after you. You’re a conduit for them, a way to fuck with Satoru. And you will not let them.

“Don’t let them,” he echoes, sighing, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Remember, flagrantly disgusting display of public affection. Imagine their faces.”

He laughs, loud and bright, and something warm blooms in you at the sound. “God, you’re the best.”

“I know.” You pull back and shove him in the direction of the team. “Now go practice so I can watch you kick their asses.”

He grins at you, does a little half-bow, snapping back into his untouchable, unbothered self. “Anything for you.”

—

There's really no reason for you to have the clipboard in your hands. Every note you’ve taken is committed to memory. You know both team’s rosters inside and out, know every detail of the schedule, what a win or a loss means for the schedule, score projections, all of it. But you need something to do with your hands, so you hold onto it, clicking and unclicking your pen, scribbling in the margins of old brackets, trying to contain all your nervous energy into a manageable space.

And you’re not the only one overflowing with energy. The stadium is alive. The lights are bright, the crowd raucous, the massive hanging scoreboard broadcasting CHAMPIONSHIP SHOWDOWN SPONSORED BY KFC. You don’t think you could eat right now even if someone shoved a bucket of fried chicken into your hands.

“That’s just mean,” Satoru mutters under his breath, gazing up at the advertisement.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothin’.”

He glances down at you and then across the court, where Geto has been tracking the two of you with searching eyes. Mei Mei hides behind a clipboard as well, though you notice her eyes flickering back and forth, studying Satoru, you, Yaga. You pointedly avoid looking at Mahito and Shigemo. Pricks.

The NBA championship series. Sorcerers versus Curses. It all comes to a head here, an endless rivalry for a championship title.

“So, I’m thinking now or never,” Satoru says, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. When you realize what he means, it takes everything in you not to glance across the court at Geto. A smirk spreads across your face, and you grab Satoru’s jersey and pull him toward you.

“Good luck,” you say, and then you kiss him, hard and long and intentional, and you know Geto sees you.

“I think,” Satoru says, pulling back a little breathlessly, “we should do that every game.” He grins and you swat him away, making your way over to Ieiri and Nobara in the far corner, and you can’t wipe the smile from your own face. On the way there you chance a look across the court. Geto isn’t looking at you, but he’s looking at Satoru, talking lowly out of the corner of his mouth to Mei Mei.

Point for me, you think.

“You’re actually nauseating,” Nobara says when you reach her. You know she’s not serious. She knew the plan. She loved the plan.

“I’m making a point,” you say anyway. She follows your tilted head toward Geto and Mei Mei, and you watch the slow, shit-eating grin spread across her face.

“Oh, so worth it,” she murmurs.

You tug the headset on and listen to the unfamiliar announcers, wishing it was Zenin and Panda in your ears but settling for the new, faceless voices instead. They’re not the same guys who usually commentated on the home court when you worked for the Curses, and you’re oddly glad about it, that there’s not another reminder of the loaded history here right in your ears.

“Charles Bernard here with Rika Orimoto,” the new voice says, “ready to watch this long-time rivalry play out in real time.”

When she speaks up, Rika’s voice is bright and younger than you expected, animated where Bernard is entirely deadpan. Interesting partnership.

As the starters take their positions, you’re surprised to see that Satoru’s not the one taking the tip-off.

Kento is. And in front of him, eye-to-eye with a sardonic smile, is Mahito.

Ah, shit.

The ref’s expression is flat and unaffected, but his eyes dart between the two shooting guards as they face off in the center of the court. You wish you could hear what they’re saying.

“An unusual choice for both teams here as we kick off this final series,” Bernard says. “Neither of our centers taking the tip-off today.”

Kento shows no emotion as the ref lets go of the ball, and Mahito leaps, but he’s not fast enough.

“Number thirty-seven Kento Nanami swipes the tip-off without hesitation!” Rika announces. “Back to number six, the Sorcerers' Satoru Gojo, and a fantastic pass up to Fushiguro.”

The Curses' hulking point guard, Jogo, is right up in Megumi’s face with a massive hand reaching out to block, but Yuji grabs the rebound and pounds it through the hoop in seconds.

“And the Sorcerers take the lead just sixteen seconds in,” Bernard says. You look over at Ieiri and Nobara, grinning, and then back to where Mei Mei stands with a stony expression across the court.

You feel good about this.

Back and forth, back and forth. Ino is giving Jogo a run for his money, using his speed to dart around the massive point guard before he even sees what’s coming. In his breakaways Yuji keeps finding himself pitted against Mahito, and it seems like it’s always a fifty-fifty whether the block is successful.

“Some subs as we enter the second quarter. On San Diego's side we have Haruta Shigemo on for Fumihiko Takaba.”

“Yuta Okkotsu on for the Sorcerers!” Rika says, a little too excitedly, before she catches herself and calms down.

“Someone has a fangirl,” Nobara snorts beside you, holding just one side of the headset to her ear.

You can’t tear your eyes away from Satoru and Geto as they go up and down the court, always on each other’s heels, breathing hard. It’s personal, and everyone can see it. If they’re saying anything you can’t make it out.

Both teams are going all-out right now, and the fans feel it too. Megumi’s guarding Naoya Zenin like a shadow, something in the air around them tense and constant. You don’t see Yuji’s uncle but you can certainly hear him, somewhere behind you on the visitors’ side, screaming, “HELL YEAH! SHOW THEM WHAT A WIN REALLY MEANS! THESE FUCKERS WOULDN’T KNOW FIRE IF IT LIT UNDER THEIR ASSES!”

You give it two minutes before he’s kicked out.

Inumaki goes on, then Hakari, and at some point the Curses swap Jogo out for Dagon, and it’s go, go, go. You can barely catch your own breath by the half, the game wrapping around you like you’re the one playing it, and Satoru’s drenched in sweat as the team files back to the locker room. He reaches out and pinches you in the side and you stick your tongue out at him, like the mature adult you are.

“Gross,” Nobara says.

The rest of the game goes by in a similar blur of shots and blocks and heated matchups, Toge nailing a few free throws, Takaba coming back on and managing to slip past Megumi only once. The scoreboard never reads more than a six-point deficit.

You almost don’t hear the buzzer when it’s finally over, players skidding to a stop on the court, their heads turned up toward the scoreboard.

“Holy shit,” Ieiri breathes beside you. “We won. We actually fucking won.”

You rip off the headset, the grin overtaking you, relief and pride flooding your veins like a drug, and the rest of the team floods the court in celebration. They beat a first seed team on their home court.

Satoru catches your eye over the mass of people and smiles, and you wave back.

And this is only the beginning.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro

[prismuffin]

Hi hi! I'm sorry if your busy, but could you write an Ghost and König (separate) ask for me?

Basically, M!Reader being both of their not straight awakenings.

Incase you didn't know, most bases have training equipment and workout gear. Just like gyms. So maybe M!Reader is working out with the rest of the 141, but his body type is a lot more lean muscle. (Think of Dick Grayson in the comics)

With his job on the team needing him to be more flexible and aglie, maybe he dose more advanced stretches. Like a gymnast would. As well as practice MMA.

Ghost and König just wanted to turn to ask a question to M!Reader, but got a sexuality crisis instead. M!Reader doing his workouts in men's yoga pants and shirtless, while working on his punches.

They just weren't ready for it that early in the morning.

LMFAOAOAOAO "not straight awakening" 💀💀💀- anyways I think that-

Ghost's breath would hitch as he turned to ask you a question, not expecting to see you shirtless and working out. Though you doing that wasn't the shocking part and neither was the way you dressed, it was the feeling it gave him that shocked him the most. His heart made a loud thud in his chest at the sight and he physically reacted. Grabbing his chest as his head jumped back in shock, his question dying on his tongue as he watched you practice your punches. His burning face hidden by his balaclava as he cursed to himself over feeling this way for a man. He'd acknowledged that you were attractive to him before but he'd been ignoring the deeper meaning until now. His eyes trailing over your body, your form, as you worked out. You truly made him speechless.

König would've entered the training room early in the morning, he knew you were in there prior and was planning on asking you something, though now that he's in here he's forgotten what that something was. His eyes were wide, his face red as he watched you work out, eyes scanning over your lean form, certain thoughts clouding his head. He snapped back to reality at the sound of his water bottle hitting the floor. He cursed, jumping at the sound as he scrambled to pick it up. Hearing you chuckle, he looked up only to make eye contact with you still in your fight stance, looking over your shoulder with a smile as you noticed it was just König who made the sound. The look in your eyes was enough to make him want to melt into the floor and disappear forever. He may have been ignoring it before, the way his heart would speed up at the mere mention of your name but now he was sure that it was something a lot more complicated, for him at least.

———

Directory

[todaysdocument]

Statement by Truman Gibson, Jr.

Collection HST-PN: Philleo Nash PapersSeries: White House FilesFile Unit: Minorities-Negro-General-Negro Troops in Italy-Statement by Truman Gibson, Jr., April 1945.

[handwritten] Maj Gen Neg Negro trps in Italy

STATEMENT OF TRUMAN K,. GIBSON, JR.

CIVIALIN AIDE TO THE SECRETARY OF WAR

AT PESS CONFERENCE, MONDAY, APRIL 9,1945,

WASINGTON, D.C.

The press has already reported that Negro and white Infantrymen are now fighting side-by-side in Germany. In France I visited some of the Nero platoons before they left for the front and talked with the men being trained at the Reinforcement Training Center. What I saw and heard was evidence that the Supreme Command in SHAEF was following in racial matters what must be the basic policy of any Army, In any war, namely, that of utilizing most efficiently all available resources of men and matériel to defeat the enemy.

Such a policy is working. At the Training Center a white noncommissioned veteran, who was assisting in the training program, said rapidly, if on grammatically, about the Negro trainees: "Sure they'll get along all right. It don't matter who's firing next to you when you're both killing Krauts." the Texas-born, battle-scarred Commanding Officer of the Center was confident that the trainees, all of whom volunteered for the training course with all noncommissioned officers taking a reduction to the grade of private, would do well in combat. He said, " These men will fight because they have been trained and treated just like the other soldiers here and they know they're going to be used in the same manner, in the same Divisions. They want to fight. When the first group went out we had only two cases of AWOL among all the Negro soldiers in the Center. We found out where the two men were we received the wire from a frontline Division Commander informing us that they had reported the him to fight."

The estimate of this officer has been confirmed by the report of an official observer who spent time with some of the platoons in the fighting around Remagen where the first of the units was committed to combat. He reported that the Negro soldiers fought as well as any others and that the mistakes they made the same as those made by other troops lacking battle experience.

This policy of making the best use of all soldiers is further evidenced in the excellent performance of the Service of Supply troops throughout the theater. These troops, a large percentage of whom are Negros, regard themselves as soldiers performing vital jobs. They had a very real identification with the fighting front. In one Quartermaster Depot, manned by Negro personnel, the first sergeant when questioned as to why the men were working voluntarily around the clock, replied: "We have got to keep the supplies moving in all of us want to do our part." The officers in this unit were white and were enthusiastic about their men and their work. Discussing their men, Negro officers in a Quartermaster Truck Company said that on many occasions their drivers had insisted on delivering white Infantrymen into dangerous territory late at night far in advance of the debarkation points because "they hated to see the 'Doughs' walk."

In the European Theater of Operations are the first units of Negro nurses and Wacs to go overseas. The nurses, stationed at a hospital in the north of England, are busy treating American soldiers have been wounded in action. They are described by their Commanding Officer as being the equals professionally of any nurses in the area. The Wacs officer and man the Central Postal Directory for the entire European Theater of Operations their efficiency has drawn repeated praise from the Commanding Officer of the United Kingdom Base Section. They have adjusted exceptionally well In theshort time they have been overseas to their work in the community in which they are situated.

Generally, on both the Continent and in England, it was apparent that the attitude of the Supreme Command that there should be no discrimination against any soldier on account of his race had reached all elements of the Command. Discriminatory acts and incidents that have occurred were regarded by the soldiers as being individual in nature. As a result of my trip to the Mediterranean and European Leaders I am impressed that such differences as exist between soldiers are not due to racial characteristics but to such factors as training, motivation, and environment. The fact that the Commands in the theaters believe this is encouraging. Certainly the record being made by Negro soldiers gives the lie to any charge that Negros cannot and will not fight.

END

Press Branch

War Department Bureau of Public Relations

April 9, 1945

11:00 AM

[archivlibrarianist]

"Bots on the internet are nothing new, but a sea change has occurred over the past year. For the past 25 years, anyone running a web server knew that the bulk of traffic was one sort of bot or another. There was googlebot, which was quite polite, and everyone learned to feed it - otherwise no one would ever find the delicious treats we were trying to give away. There were lots of search engine crawlers working to develop this or that service. You'd get 'script kiddies' trying thousands of prepackaged exploits. A server secured and patched by a reasonably competent technologist would have no difficulty ignoring these.

"...The surge of AI bots has hit Open Access sites particularly hard, as their mission conflicts with the need to block bots. Consider that Internet Archive can no longer save snapshots of one of the best open-access publishers, MIT Press, because of cloudflare blocking. Who know how many books will be lost this way?  Or consider that the bots took down OAPEN, the worlds most important repository of Scholarly OA books, for a day or two. That's 34,000 books that AI 'checked out' for two days. Or recent outages at Project Gutenberg, which serves 2 million dynamic pages and a half million downloads per day. That's hundreds of thousands of downloads blocked! The link checker at doab-check.ebookfoundation.org (a project I worked on for OAPEN) is now showing 1,534 books that are unreachable due to 'too many requests.' That's 1,534 books that AI has stolen from us! And it's getting worse.

"...The thing that gets me REALLY mad is how unnecessary this carnage is. Project Gutenberg makes all its content available with one click on a file in its feeds directory. OAPEN makes all its books available via an API. There's no need to make a million requests to get this stuff!! Who (or what) is programming these idiot scraping bots? Have they never heard of a sitemap??? Are they summer interns using ChatGPT to write all their code? Who gave them infinite memory, CPUs and bandwidth to run these monstrosities? (Don't answer.)

"We are headed for a world in which all good information is locked up behind secure registration barriers and paywalls, and it won't be to make money, it will be for survival. Captchas will only be solvable by advanced AIs and only the wealthy will be able to use internet libraries."

[weskie]

Brave (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

obsessed w kissing this man | Fic Directory

You know you’re special to him. 

You can tell from the way he relaxes around you.  Tight shoulders loosening, the edge fading from his voice…

His gloves coming off.

That last one is how you come to such a bold conclusion.  Wesker doesn’t take his gloves off for anything these days.  Well, anything except for you.

And he certainly doesn’t put his bare hands on anyone unless he can absolutely help it.  It’s almost a mystery that it’s taken you so long to come to the realization that this man, this god, is infatuated with you.  That it wasn’t just mere circumstance that had his knuckles brushing against yours as you walked together in the halls, nor a stroke of fortune that he’d come to show you such favoritism. 

So when that bare fingertip trails along the edge of your jaw and he gazes down at you, eyes glowing behind his shades, you find yourself leaning into the touch– finally giving yourself permission to reciprocate at least some degree of his tactile advances. 

“Peculiar little thing,” he murmurs, lifting his glasses away.  That was special, too.  It wasn’t often that he took those off, and you felt privileged to behold the odd beauty of his inhuman eyes.  Better yet was how soft they seemed for you.

Those featherlight strokes along your face become more, and he smooths the backs of his fingers along your cheek.  You’re not technically trapped, but his proximity and the wall a foot behind you make you feel that way.  But it’s not a bad feeling.  Not at all.

No, you like this.

You like the way he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, titling you perfectly to gaze into his crimson eyes.  You like the carnage hidden within them, and you like that they look at you as though you’re the most perfect sight he’s ever come across.

You watch the tip of his tongue glide slowly over his upper lip, which curls into a smirk.

Oh, fuck it, you think to yourself.  You grab the lapels of his jacket and bridge the divide to kiss that pretty little grin right off his face.  To your surprise, he doesn’t take the lead.  He lets you kiss him senseless, only moving his hands to pull you closer. It’s as though he means to both indulge you and satisfy his own need to see just how far you’ll go– how brave you’re willing to be to take what you want from a god.

You’re in the best kind of trouble when your back hits the wall.

part two here